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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/38498-8.txt b/38498-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eff2299 --- /dev/null +++ b/38498-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9015 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Code of the Mountains, by Charles Neville Buck + +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: The Code of the Mountains + +Author: Charles Neville Buck + +Illustrator: G. W. Gage + +Release Date: January 5, 2012 [EBook #38498] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CODE OF THE MOUNTAINS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + + THE CODE OF THE MOUNTAINS + + BY CHARLES NEVILLE BUCK + + AUTHOR OF THE CALL OF THE CUMBERLANDS, THE BATTLE CRY, ETC. + + + ILLUSTRATIONS BY + G. W. GAGE + + NEW YORK + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS + + COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY + W. J. WATT & COMPANY + + _Published May_ + + + * * * * * + + + _OTHER BOOKS BY_ + + CHARLES NEVILLE BUCK + + + THE KEY TO YESTERDAY + THE LIGHTED MATCH + THE PORTAL OF DREAMS + THE CALL OF THE CUMBERLANDS + THE BATTLE CRY + + + + +[Illustration: "Newty," she said softly, "why don't you shake the dirt +of this place offen your feet?"] + + + + +THE CODE OF THE MOUNTAINS + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +This morning the boy from the forks of Troublesome Creek had back his +name once more. It was not a distinguished name, nor one to be flaunted +in pride of race or achievement. On the contrary, it was a synonym for +violent law-breaking and in the homely parlance of the Cumberland +ridges, where certain infractions are condoned, it stood for "pizen +meanness." Generations of Spooners before him had taken up the surname +and carried it like runners in a relay race--often into evil ways. Many +had laid down their lives and name with abruptness and violence. + +When the pioneers first set their feet into the Wilderness trail out of +Virginia, some left because the vague hinterland west of the ridges +placed them "beyond the law's pursuing." + +Tradition said that of the latter class were the Spooners, but Newt +Spooner had no occasion to probe the remote past for a record of +turpitude. It lay before him inscribed in a round clerical hand on the +ledger which the warden of the Frankfort Penitentiary was just closing. +Though the Governor's clemency had expunged the red charge of murder +set against his name at the tender age of eighteen, there was another +record which the Governor could not erase. A sunken grave bore testimony +in a steep mountainside burial-ground back in "Bloody Breathitt," where +dead weed stalks rattled and tangled ropes of fox-grapes bore their +fruit in due season. + +However, even the name of Newt Spooner is a better thing than the Number +813, which for two years had been his designation within those gray and +fortressed walls along whose tops sentry-boxes punctuated the angles. + +This morning he wore a suit of black clothes, the gift of the +commonwealth, and his eyes were fixed rather avidly on a five-dollar +note which the warden held tightly between his thumb and forefinger. +Newt knew that the bill, too, was to be his. Yet the warden seemed +needlessly deliberate in making the presentation. That functionary +intended first to have something to say; something meant in all +kindliness, but as Newt waited, shifting his bulk uneasily from foot to +foot, his narrowed eyes traveled with restlessness, and his thin lips +clamped themselves into a line indicative of neither gratitude nor +penitence. The convict's thoughts for two years had been circling with +uncomplicated directness about one focus. Newt Spooner had a fixed idea. + +The office of the warden was not a cheery place. Its walls and desk and +key-racks spoke suggestively of the business administered there. The +warden tilted back in his swivel chair, and gazed at the forgiven, but +unforgiving prisoner. + +"Spooner," he began in that tone which all homilies have in common; +"Spooner, you have been luckier than you had any reason to expect. It's +up to you to see that I don't get you back here again." + +He gazed sternly at the boy, for he was still a boy, despite the chalky +and aged pallor of his face, despite the tight-clenched line of the thin +lips, despite the stooping and emaciated shoulders. The Kentucky +mountaineer withers into quick decay between prison walls, and, unless +appearances were deceitful, this one was already being beckoned to by +the specter of tuberculosis. + +"You have been pardoned and restored to all civil rights by the +Governor," went on the official. "Your youth and ill health appealed to +some ladies who went through the prison. You are the youngest homicide +we have here. They interceded because you were only an ignorant kid when +you were drawn into this murder conspiracy." + +Newt's eyes blazed evilly at the words, but he only clamped his mouth +tighter. He would not have called it a murder conspiracy. To him it was +merely "killin' a feller that needed killin'." "Since," continued the +warden quietly, "you were full of white liquor, and since you had never +had a chance to know much anyhow, those ladies got busy, and you have +another chance. You ought to feel very grateful to them. It's up to you +to prove that the experiment was worth the risk it involves--the risk +of turning an assassin loose on society." + +The boy from Troublesome said nothing. From his thin chest came a deep, +racking cough. He spat on the floor, and wondered how long this man +would hold back the five-dollar bill and prolong the interview. + +"Well?" The warden's voice was impatient. "Don't you hear me talking to +you? Haven't you got any sense of decent gratitude?" + +A fiercely baleful wrath shot instinctively through Newt's gray +hawk-like eyes and smoldered in their deep sockets, but there still was +need to leash his anger--and conceal his purpose. + +"I'm obleeged ter ye," he answered in a dead voice of mock humility, +though his tongue ached to burst into profane denunciation, "but I +hain't axed nobody ter do nothin'. I didn't 'low ter be beholden ter +nobody." + +"You are 'beholden' to everybody who has befriended you," retorted the +warden with rising asperity. "Do you mean to go back to the mountains?" + +At once there leaped into the released convict's mind a vision of being +spied upon and thwarted in his purpose--a purpose which the law could +not countenance. To cover his anger he fell into a fit of violent +coughing, and, when he answered, it was with the crafty semblance of +indecision. + +"I 'lowed I mout go back an' see my kinfolks fer a spell." + +"And after that?" + +"I 'lowed," lied Spooner cautiously, "thet atter thet I'd go West." + +"Now take a tip from me," commanded the warden, and, since he still held +the five-dollar bill, the boy from Troublesome was forced to accord +unwilling attention. "Every mountain man that goes away drifts +eventually back to the mountains. God knows why they do it, but they do. +You have just one chance of salvation. I had that in mind when I spoke +to the Governor and asked him to include in your pardon a restoration of +civil rights. If you get well enough to stand the physical examination, +enlist in the army. Once in, you'll have to stay three years--and in +three years a fellow can do a lot of thinking. It may make a man of you. +If you don't take that tip I'll have you back here again--as sure as God +made you--unless you get hanged instead." + +The warden extended his hand containing the provision with which the +commonwealth of Kentucky invited this human brandling to rehabilitate +his life. The mountaineer bent eagerly forward and clutched at the money +with a wolfish haste of greed. Ten minutes later the prison gates swung +outward. + +The Frankfort Penitentiary sits on a hill looking down to a ragged town +which straddles the Kentucky River. In the basin below somnolent streets +spread away and lose themselves in glistening turnpikes between +bluegrass farms where velvet lawns and shaded woodlands surround old +mansions that mirror the charm and flavor of rural England. The state +capital is a large village rather than a city, but to this boy who had +known only the wild isolation of the Cumberlands, where sky-high +ramparts have caught and arrested human development, Frankfort seemed a +baffling metropolis. In the lumber-yards and distilleries that cluttered +the steep river banks he saw only bewilderment and in the dome of the +capitol the symbol of a power that had jailed him; that except for his +youth would have hanged him. + +One thing only he saw which struck a note of the nostalgic and brought a +catch to his throat. That river had its headwaters in his own country. +One branch flowed through his own county seat, and those knobs that +hugged its banks and framed the straggling town under the singing June +skies, were the little cousins of the mountains where his forefathers +had lived their lives and fought their battles for a hundred years. + +If he followed them long enough, they would mount from knobs to +foothills and from foothills to peaks. The metaled turnpikes would +dwindle and end in clay roads. These roads would in time give way to +rougher trails, rock-strewn and licked by the little, whispering waters +that make rivers, and he would travel by creek-bed ways over which +wagons, if they go at all, must strain their axles and where men ride +mules with their luggage in saddle-bags. There forests of age-old oaks +and spruce, pines and poplars and hickory and ash would troop down and +smother in the hillsides, and the rhododendron would be in bloom just +now. The laurel bushes would be all a-glisten and the elder tops would +be tossing sprays of foam-like blossom between towering sentinels of +rock. + +But the beauties of the rugged home country had for him another meaning. +At the roots of the laurel a man can crouch unseen with his rifle +cradled against his shoulder to "lay-way" an enemy who has over-lived +his time. + +When he had a certain man in rifle-range, the rest would be elementally +simple. He had spent more than two years thinking of that and evolving +every needful plan in detail. There was now no need of haste. After all +this thinking he could afford to consult his leisure and enjoy the +pleasures of anticipation. When once the deed was done, as the warder +had reminded him, there was the probable shadow of the gallows. But it +should be said for the late Number 813 that in his reflections was no +germ of vacillation or indecision. His one definite motive in life was +what he deemed just reprisal. He was willing to pay for that without +haggling over the cost, but he was not willing to defeat his end by +hasty incaution. + +He had been in prison over two years and was still very weak. He +recognized with contempt the tremor of his hand. Once that hand had been +so steady that all his squirrels fell from the hickories pierced through +the head. It would be a little time before he could again command that +nicety of rifle-craft. But now he must get home and home lay about a +hundred and fifteen miles "over yon." He could reach Jackson by rail, +but that would cost money, and there was ammunition to be bought and +other matters of importance, and his capital was precisely five dollars. +Besides, railroad trains were luxurious and effete; they were not for +him. He would "jest natcherly take his foot in his hand and light +out"--pausing only for a little "snack" to eat and a flask to cheer his +journey. + +He made his way slowly down into the center of the town: a town which +had come to recognize at a glance these prison-given suits of black; +these faces pasty with the pallor of confinement; this shamble fathered +by the slouchy swing of the lock-step. For the June morning when No. 813 +became again Newt Spooner was in the year 1897, and the ancient rigors +of prison life still held. + +Eyes turned curiously on the shambling derelict, but the only expression +on Newt's face was one of surly defiance to the world. The only +sentiment that stirred in his breast was such as might have brooded in +the narrow and poisoned brain of a rattle-snake, lying close-coiled by +the laurel roots along his native creek-beds. + +Prisons are to reform and teach lessons of law. Newt Spooner had been in +prison and was now out. He had already known how to hate, but now he +knew how to hate with a greater tensity. Also, he had learned to cloak +his animosity behind a craftier concealment. + +He had grown up as a cub among wolf-like men, running with the pack. +From his mother's shrunken breast he had drawn bitterness toward his +foes and "meanness." + +He remembered his boyhood surprise at the shocked face of the circuit +rider when his father had laconically announced: "Stranger, thet thar +boy's done drunk licker sence he was a baby. We weaned him on hit. Hit's +good licker, 'cause we made hit ourselves--an' we hain't paid no damn' +Gov'ment tax on hit, neither." But before him no Spooner had worn felon +stripes, though many had been felons. That he had done so branded him +with disgrace, and until he should remove that stigma by punishing the +witness upon whose sworn word his conviction had been based, he must +face the scorn of the battle-scarred members of the man-pack that still +ranged free. So, as Newt Spooner turned his face homeward between sunny +pasture lands and soft woodlands and golden grain fields and set his +feet into the Lexington turnpike, young Henry Falkins became a man +marked down for death. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Courts can not enforce laws upon which public opinion sets its embargo. +The men of the mountains have lived isolated lives for a hundred years. +They inhabit an island of medievalism entirely surrounded by +civilization, but the civilization is no more a part of them than the +water that surrounds an island is part of the island. "Leave us alone" +has been the word of the hills to the gift-bearing Greeks of innovation. +The right of men to settle their own quarrels after the method of the +Scottish clans from whom they sprang, has been a thing which local +courts have made only perfunctory efforts to deny--and which juries of +the vicinage stubbornly refused to deny. Among their crude cabins one +still hears phrases bequeathed by word of mouth from the England of +Elizabeth and the Scotland of Mary Stuart. Immured behind their walls of +sandstone, they have lived ignorantly--and fiercely. + +Their peaks are heaped against the skies, and their fields are tilled +with the hoe when mules and plows might fall down to destruction. With +nature itself they pursue a constant and desperate quarrel for +subsistence, and through generations of battle they have grown morose +and sullen and vengeful and have lost all sense of life's humor. + +But slowly the tide of outside influence is creeping in upon them and at +the contact-points strangely anomalous conditions arise: the clash of +incongruous centuries; the war between a stubborn old order and an +inevitable new. In such a life there are here and there far-sighted men +who, standing like great trees among stunted brethren, look out across a +wider perspective with a surer vision. + +The house of McAllister Falkins stands twenty miles from a railroad and +is, for this crude environment, a mansion. It was built in the days when +the first tide of pioneer life swept out of Virginia, and because it +was, in that remote day, nearer kin to the culture of the Old Dominion +than to the wilderness, it bore a strange blending of compromises +between luxury and the exigency of the frontier. + +The head of the house of Falkins, generation after generation, had clung +to the old standards and old ideals. The children of this household had +been reared like their cousins of Virginia and the bluegrass. Other +branches of the family bearing the surname had gone to seed and lapsed +into illiteracy. There were cousins who had to sign their names with +cross-marks and who had been embroiled in savage animosities until the +"Spooner-Falkins War" had become one of the sanguinary chapters of +feudal history, but the head of the house had always stood apart and +denounced the godless code of the vendetta. + +And now the time was come when old McAllister Falkins could look ahead +and begin to see the pale glow of a coming dawn. The railroads, whose +surveyors and chain-bearers his neighbors had fought, were piercing and +developing the hills. Here and there rose a circuit judge or a +prosecuting attorney who dared to talk from an unterrified soul to grand +and petit juries, and occasionally a panel harkened. District schools +began to pass into the hands of teachers who could teach. In this place +and that rose small colleges and the flickering blaze of enlightenment +was struggling into a semblance of steadiness. McAllister Falkins had +sent his son Henry away to school and college, and had had the +satisfaction of seeing him return unspoiled. + +The life of young Henry Falkins, therefore, had been cast both in and +out of the Cumberlands, and he had reached the age of twenty-five with a +minimum of enemies and a maximum of friends. His was the breadth of the +lowlands and the unflinching strength of the hills. Then the lurking and +inevitable shadow of that life had impalpably and suddenly fallen upon +him. + +When Bud Mortimer, a "marked man," riding home from Jackson, had slid +from his horse and died in a creek-bed with a rifle-hole drilled through +his chest, Falkins had been unlucky enough to have been +squirrel-shooting near by and to have recognized one of three figures +that left the open road and took cover in the laurel. By one of the +strange chances of fate, Falkins, who was tramping the woods with no +idea of concealment, had been unobserved, while the three assassins, +crouching along with all their covert art of hiding out, had not quite +escaped his eye. He had not heard the volley because the murder had +taken place at a distance. He would not have suspected the men who +passed casually below him with their rifles cradled in their elbows, had +not a word or two, in the staccato voice of a youth who walked third in +the single file, come to his ears. These words were profanely triumphant +and boastful of marksmanship. The other two men, the squirrel-hunter did +not recognize. Still, Henry Falkins might not have known that the +bull's-eye alluded to had been a human breast, and he did not know it +till later. + +When the dead man's friends had carried the matter to the courts, with +no better evidence perhaps than the bad blood which they knew existed, +and when young Newt Spooner, aged eighteen, but precocious in crime, +stood at the bar, charged with murder, Henry Falkins told the prosecutor +what he had seen. The prosecutor instructed him to keep his secret until +he was called as a witness. He knew the conditions and recognized that, +should this evidence come prematurely to the ears of the Spooners, he +should probably not only lose valuable evidence, but also be saddled +with another prosecution for murder--and just now his homicide docket +was burdensomely heavy. + +When their cub was indicted, the Spooner pack laughed. When he was haled +into court, despite his callow years, he came with insolent confidence, +as one above the law. He might have escaped and hidden out, since the +court had allowed him bond, but that would have hampered his future +freedom of action, so he preferred to go through the farce of a trial, +and afterward be free. + +He testified, and his alibi corps testified as one man, that he had been +at Hazard, forty miles away, when Mortimer fell. The defense closed in +sanguine trustfulness. Then, in rebuttal, the prosecution sprung a +surprise--a sensation--a bomb. The surprise was Henry Falkins, and when +he took the stand, the hand-made alibi collapsed. Even then Newt Spooner +had not been able to realize that the convincing story of one witness +could destroy his carefully fabricated tissue of lies. But sundry +unexpected things were happening in this dingy court-room. A new spirit +reigned there. Vaguely the sullen lad, crouching back in the prisoner's +chair, was aware of a hardening and petrifying resolve on the rugged +faces in the jury-box. Heretofore the average venireman had thought +there was no health in incurring the wrath of a family of terrorists +like the Spooners. Heretofore Spooners had always "come cl'ar." +Heretofore prosecutors had made only perfunctory attempts to convict +them. Not so with the Honorable Cale Floyd. From opening statement to +closing argument he leaped savagely at the throat of the defense. His +cross-examination was a merciless hail of verbal rifle-fire. As he +defied all the vicious animosities of the Spooner tribe, the court-room +held its breath, and young Newt waited vainly for his kinsmen to rise +_en masse_ and silence his anathemas with a volley. Each night in his +cell, young Newt Spooner wondered why he did not hear a sound outside +the brick "jail-house," and see the doors go down before the wrath of +his rescuers. It was incredible that the clan should stand by and permit +him to be "penitentiaried." Yet it finally dawned upon him that +precisely this thing was happening. The realization had dazed and +embittered him. He knew that even among his own he was not accounted as +of great importance, but he bore the name of Spooner, and in the old +days that would have been enough. He was the first sacrifice to the +changing order. He felt no resentment against the prosecutor in spite of +his philippics. The prosecutor was paid to do it. He even rather admired +the courage which gave strength to the attack, when every precedent told +the lawyer that he was inviting death for his pains. But for the man who +had volunteered to testify; who belonged to the family which his family +had hated and fought; who had come back to the mountains with +"fotched-on" ideas and attacked him with the despised weapon of the law; +for that man he felt such hatred as can only come of festering and +venomous brooding, which lasts while life lasts. + +These thoughts Newt Spooner carried as companions as he tramped the +first leg of his homeward journey. Until he had come to Frankfort, +hand-cuffed to a deputy sheriff, he had never seen this land of "down +below." Its softly billowing landscape was to him unfamiliar and +unpleasing. The great columned mansions of time-stained brick set deep +in park-like woodlands; the smoothness of velvet lawns; rippling acres +of grain ripening into gold under the June sun; all these things wore on +his nerves. He was accustomed to a country shut in and sequestered +between eternal hills; of roads where footfalls were silenced; of ragged +patches of cultivation pocketed in surrounding forests. In such places a +man could step aside and be hidden. Here he felt exposed; his very +thoughts seemed naked. That men should live in such great houses and +drive such smooth roads seemed monstrous and incredible. He hated the +"highfalutin" bearing of these "furriners," who carried their chins +aloft like masters of creation. He hated the sight of the "niggers" who +served them. He hated all the orderly smoothness and opulence of this +level land where no ridges broke the sky. So he stalked along, his face +set toward the far horizon, beyond which lay his mountains and his +purpose. + +It was a slow journey, for he was weak, but as he breathed the June air +into his cramped lungs, his shoulders began to lose their slouch and his +gait began to discard its prison shuffle for the long space-eating +stride of the mountaineer. + +At twilight, he came to a small house by the roadside. He had made a +poor day's journey and, since night was falling, he turned in at the +gate, as though it had been that of his own cabin. The place was shabby +and its residents would have been characterized by the negroes as "po' +white trash," but of social values the late Number 813 was ignorant. He +saw only a roof and to the hills-man a roof is a shelter for whosoever +may need it. Over the whitewashed fence clambering roses hung in profuse +invitation, spicing the air with their fragrance. + +Newt made his way to the door where a slatternly woman confronted him. +She stared with disapproving eyes as she wiped her hands on her apron. + +"Well, what do you want?" she challenged. + +"I 'lowed ye'd let me stay all night--I'm a travelin'," replied the boy +from Troublesome. He spoke simply and without cumbersome explanation. At +home it would have been enough. But this woman only stared at him +disapprovingly and as she took in his sullen visage and dusty suit of +black, she recognized in him the erstwhile convict. With a suppressed +scream she disappeared indoors. + +Newt stood gazing without comprehension. That he might be turned away +had not at first occurred to him. He had not yet grasped the essential +differences between highland and lowland etiquette. He accordingly +mounted the steps, crossed the porch and entered the door without +knocking. In the mountains no one knocks on a door. + +But at the threshold he met a tall man, who thrust him violently +backward and squared himself across the opening. As Newt staggered +backward and brought himself up against one of the porch supports, the +householder surveyed him from crown to toe, and then, waving a hand +outward, ordered briefly: + +"Get the hell out of here, you damned jail-bird!" + +For an instant the pardoned prisoner stood rigidly at gaze, while his +eyes gathered wrath and his ugly snarl became wolf-like. Never had he +been so greeted when claiming the traveler's prerogative of shelter from +the night. But he was unarmed; moreover, he had a mission. He was going +to kill one man. Killing men was expensive. It cost liberty and +sometimes more. He could not waste animosity. So he veiled his anger and +turned away. "I didn't 'low hit war a-goin' ter make ye mad," he mumbled +as he went out again to the road. But he had learned his lesson. The +mountaineer is as proud as he is ignorant, and, rather than risk another +rebuff, he spent the night in a haystack, and the first rosy kindling of +dawn found him again on his way; hungry, but setting his face stonily +against the temptation to ask food. + + * * * * * + +The town of Winchester, like all the county seats of central Kentucky, +breaks from its drowsy somnolence into a brief activity on court-day. On +one Monday in each month the roads fill with an unaccustomed caravan of +trade. Then under the hammer of the street auctioneer farm gear and live +stock change hands; saloons and eating-houses do a banner business; +politicians often harangue in the court-house square; friends renew old +acquaintanceships and sometimes enemies renew old quarrels. But +Winchester differs in one respect from its sister towns. The savor of a +soil rich in chivalric traditions hangs here as it does over neighboring +counties, and yet there is a difference. For Winchester is the nearest +town of consequence to that foothilled borderland where the opulent +bluegrass ends and the illiterate Cumberlands pile their grim ramparts. +Here come the farther-wandering traders from the mountains; gaunt men +with steady-gazing eyes and lean sinews and noiseless tread, to mingle +with the louder-spoken and fuller-nourished brothers of the lowlands. It +is on court-day that they come in greatest numbers. Here, too, live some +of their own kin whom the menace of feudal reprisal has driven from +their native slopes and "coves." With the mountaineer's strong yearning +to remain as near as possible to his birthplace, these refugees have +made new homes and new lives at the edge of the bluegrass where on +occasion they can again see familiar faces. From Frankfort to Winchester +is a matter of almost fifty miles, and Newt Spooner, who had taken up +his homeward journey on a Saturday morning, saw its court-house cupola +and church spires pierce the screen of foliage on the forenoon of +Monday, which chanced to be the Monday allotted to Clark County for its +court. + +Newt was very tired and very hungry. His rebuff at the farmhouse had +festered and rankled in his mind, and he had refused to ask hospitality +again or to speak to any man, save for the curt asking of necessary +directions. In Lexington he had bought himself a "snack," but because he +was penuriously hoarding his small capital, he spent with a stinting +hand and pushed onward unsatisfied. + +Now, as he trudged wearily, he saw a figure by the roadside at his +front. The figure was that of a negro, who sat on a rock pile in the +sun, hammering limestone chunks into road metal. As the boy came nearer, +he saw another detail. The black man, though unguarded, was a prisoner +and he sat safe against the chance of escape by reason of the huge iron +ball fastened to one ankle by a padlocked chain. The white man, himself +so lately released from the penitentiary, halted. He had the +mountaineer's chronic aversion to "niggers," but here was someone whom +he could question and who was in no position to insult him. + +"How fur mout hit be ter Winchester?" he demanded. + +The negro, welcoming interruption and conversation, turned with his +granite-headed hammer poised over a piece of limestone. + +"It's a right-smart piece, if a man's leg-weary. It's about a mile, +boss," he said. + +A mile to the hills-man is nothing; a mere "whoop and a holler," yet now +it seemed to the ex-convict as his informant said, "a right-smart +piece." The glow which spotted his pallid face at the cheekbones told of +a temperature. Through his limbs went a dull ache. From time to time he +coughed. Finally the negro laid aside his rock-hammer, and gazed long +and inquiringly at his silent visitor. He, too, recognized the +state-bestowed clothing and its meaning. + +"'Scuse me, boss," he suggested, "but yer done come from Frankfort, +ain't yer?" + +Newt Spooner nodded, but his eyes narrowed, discouraging interrogation. + +"Was yer--was yer in de pen'tenshery, boss?" + +The man chained to his rock pile doubted the wisdom of his question, but +African inquisitiveness had mastered his better judgment. + +Instantly he recognized his mistake. The boy from Troublesome was at +once on his feet and his sallow face was distorted with anger. From his +lips came profane volleys of abuse. Transported by rage, he took a step +forward with clenched fists. The negro clambered to his feet, and, since +he was anchored against flight, backed away defensively, waving his rock +hammer. + +Newt Spooner selected a huge fragment of the scaly limestone, and +withdrew just beyond the range of hammer and chain; but as the negro, in +a paroxysm of terror, fell pleadingly to his knees, he dropped the +missile at his side. + +"I hain't a-goin' ter bust in yore damned black head," he said in slow +wrath, "because I got another job ter do. Thet's ther only reason why I +hain't a-goin' ter kill ye." Then he turned into the road and took up +his journey again. + + * * * * * + +Back there in the fastnesses of the hills, toward which he was making +his way, the leaven of change was beginning to work, yeast-like. When he +reached his destination he was to learn with surprise that he could not +take up without interruption the story of his life: the story out of +which pages standing for two years had been torn. Births and deaths and +the giving in marriage were not the only things that had happened. +Quietly a new agent had entered in; the agent of a patient spirit of +education. This spirit came burning in the hearts of men and women from +below, who realized that they must breast stubborn opposition and that +they must adapt their methods to the life they sought to change. They +must plant and nourish the new idea in the younger minds and they must +not seek to alter in a twinkling a régime that had long been immutable. + +But buried deep in the forestry of the tangled hills, far back from a +railroad stood a group of buildings that seemed miracle-reared. They +were stanch buildings of square-hewn logs, which in contrast to the +ramshackle huts about them appeared to have been lifted from another +world and transported on the winds of some benevolent cyclone. It was +difficult to think of these houses as having been raised from solid +foundation to level ridgepole so far from the facilities of +transportation. Yet here in the wilderness stood the "college." + +It was no vaunting boastfulness that had inspired the almost fanatical +men and women who stood as sponsors for the enterprise to give so +high-sounding a name to the institution which taught kindergarten and +primary classes. Some day, they hoped, it might grow up to its title, +and meanwhile there were gray-beards and wrinkled women who sought to +study primer and multiplication-table, but whose pride would bar them +from advantages undignified by the name of college. + +On the spring morning when Newt Spooner was trudging homeward, Doctor +Murray, who had slowly and courageously turned his dream into a reality, +sat in the study of the college. There was a smile on his lips, and the +square-jawed face, which escaped all trace of the pedagogic, was +contented. The sun streamed in through his windows and lighted a room +finished in wainscoting of oak and maple--sawed at the mill, which was +part of the institution and which he could see from his window, when he +looked down. + +Above, when he cast his eyes in that direction through another window, +nestled the small hospital, where barbaric methods of local surgery were +being altered. But, best of all, there came to his ears laughter and +shouts from the trim campus where boys and girls were at play: boys and +girls who until they had come here, had known little about laughter and +much about drudgery. And every peal of mirth was a challenge to the old +order of hatred and the ancient thraldom of sullenness. + +A girl came into the room and laid some papers on his desk, and the +doctor nodded at her with a smile. + +"Minerva," he said, "I'm afraid you are working too hard. One doesn't +have to learn everything at once, you know." + +The pupil flushed and stood for a moment silent. She was straight and +lithe, and under the blue calico dress that was turned down at her +neck, her throat was brown with a tan through which a petal-like color +glowed. Her brown hair glistened with the glint of polished mahogany, +and her eyes struck the doctor as eyes meant for mirth, though they had +hardly learned to laugh. The deadly seriousness of the hills and the +Calvinistic seriousness that makes martyrs, seemed to hold in bondage a +spirit that nature had intended to radiate gaiety. Her fingers drew +themselves together into fists, and after a moment she spoke slowly, and +her speech was a strange blending of the illiterate argot of the hills +and a conscious effort to speak in the phrases dictated by the education +which she coveted. + +"I reckon ye don't hardly know how much I've got to learn," she said. "I +reckon ye don't realize how plumb ign'rant I am." + +Suddenly her voice became passionate. + +"Maybe ye don't know how I hate it all--how I want to get away from +ign'rance an' dirt an' wickedness. I've been wonderin' if I didn't err +in comin' here. It's just makin' me hate that cabin over yon--I mean +over there--on Troublesome. Sometimes I think it can't hardly do +nothin'--do anything--but make me dissatisfied." + +The head of the school looked up, and his face grew grave. + +"There are times," he said, "when that thought comes to me, too. I don't +mean as to you, Minerva, alone, but as to all those we take here and +teach. At first it was all a dream of bringing a light to a place that +was dark. That was the only phase I saw. But later I saw more. One can't +make a dream a reality without struggle. Dissatisfaction is the price we +must pay for regeneration--and people like you and myself must be among +the first to pay it." + +"Over there," she went on, as though talking to herself, "they only +hates me for it. They says I'm stuck on myself an' that what's been good +enough for my folks for all time ain't good enough for me no more--I +mean any more." + +"It takes time," the man reassured her. "In the place of ignorance, we +offer education. In the place of lawlessness, we offer law. In the place +of squalor, we offer thrift. Are those things not worth what they cost?" + +The girl stood silent for a moment, then nodded her head. + +"I reckon so," she answered simply, and turned to leave the library. +After she had gone, the teacher sat for a time with his book open before +him, but his eyes were contemplative, and it was from memory and not +from the printed page that he was reading. + +He was thinking back and seeing over again a day shortly after his +school had opened. In those times there had been fewer buildings, and of +the many pupils who came, hungry to learn, only a few could be taken in. +Among the first had been Minerva. + +She had come exhausted and tired because she had come on foot, and her +mean calico dress had been briar-torn, and her feet, which were bare, +had been bruised. But in her eyes was gleaming a passion of hunger and +resolve for the food which the school offered the mind. She had +presented herself, a ragged little mendicant asking the alms of +education, carrying what belongings she had in such a bundle as tramps +carry. + +Back in her unlighted and windowless cabin, she had heard of this +"new-fangled" institution where was to be dispensed the pabulum of +"larnin'"--and she had made her pilgrimage. Now Doctor Murray was +recalling that day. He had been down by the stile which gave entrance +from the creek-bed road, when he had seen the slight figure trudging +along, and the girl had stopped and eyed him shyly. + +"Air ye the feller frum down below what aims ter give folks larnin'?" +she had demanded, as her large eyes held his with a tense directness, +untinged by any humor. + +"To give folks learning is a large contract," he had answered with a +quizzical smile; "but we hope to give to as many as we can, at least its +rudiments." + +"What's them?" + +"The start. Have you ever been to school at all?" + +"I've done been ter the blab-school. I kin read an' write an' figger." + +Dr. Murray had stood there looking at her, and it had come to him that +she made a very pathetic picture, with the yearning in her eyes and the +dust of travel on her calico, so he denied her with a heavy heart. + +"Just now," he said regretfully, "we can only take in a few pupils and +we are already over-crowded. I'm afraid we can't make room for you." +Suddenly he added, "How far have you come?" + +"The rise of twenty mile, sence sun-up," she informed him simply, then +tears welled rebelliously into her eyes. Her voice broke from her lips +with a fierce passionateness. + +"Ye've got ter take me," she cried out. "Ye've jest simply got ter take +me. I've done been prayin' ter God Almighty ter give me a chanst. I've +done heerd that ye war a preacher of ther Gospel, an' I reckon God +hain't a-goin' ter suffer ye ter turn me away." + +Doctor Murray had then been new to the hills. The storm-like intensity +of the mountain character was bringing him its revelations. He stood +there by the road, watching the ox-teams that were bringing logs in to +his saw-mill and made rapid calculations and as he did so he heard the +new candidate for matriculation rushing on: + +"Ther Scripters says thet God's servant won't turn away sich as comes to +him seeking light--an' I've done come." + +"At all events," he answered gently, "come up and have something to eat, +and I'll talk it over with my wife." + +Mrs. Murray had spent a half-hour with the girl, and then had come back +to her husband. + +"She is as wild as a squirrel," was her announcement, "but I have never +seen such a starving heart or brain. I don't know what we shall do with +her, but we must let her stay." And so Minerva had stayed. + +Now she went out of the library, and made her way to a favorite spot up +on the hillside. It was a study hour, and she carried a book with her. +The time she had spent here had wrought a transformation. The brain had +unfolded and the heart had become unplaced. The terms of this school +adapted themselves to the needs of the environment. They did not +conflict with the nearer demands of farm work, but accommodated +themselves to necessity. When the frequent vacations came, Minerva went +back to the cabin which she called her home. Each of these visits she +dreaded. + +Mountain reserve is hard to break. Even in her tempestuous appeal to the +head of the school, she had not told her full story. Now she was +thinking of it. + +Mountain women grow old while they are yet young, but her mother had +seemed to her different. Mountain women are grave with a gravity which +is more than half sullen, but she remembered a mother who had laughed +and whose voice had been often raised in song. Then when she was still +very small, she remembered one of those rude mountain funerals where +those who come raise their voices in a weird incantation of "mourning," +which they leave off for gossip as soon as the period set aside for the +clamor comes to its end. After that she had been motherless and had kept +house for a shiftless and surly father. That house-keeping had been +simple enough in the shack of one room, but it had been unrelieved +drudgery, and because she was one of those human beings who are less +near of kinship to the members of the family with whom they live than +with some far-off ancestor whose nature is strangely duplicated, Minerva +had always had longings for things which were to her undefined dreams. +Her nature had always been in insurrection against the squalid facts of +her life. Her inclinations and thoughts struck back, by one of Nature's +practical jokes, to some woman who had been a lady in the courtly life +of Virginia a century, or maybe two centuries, ago, before her ancestors +became stranded pioneers and lapsed into illiteracy, degeneracy and +venal sloth here in the hard hills. What this all meant she had not +known, but she knew that one memory alone was sweet to her thoughts, and +that that was the memory of her mother. She knew, too, that even before +they had taught her at the college how perverted it all was, this whole +scheme of mountain feudalism and black ignorance and bitterness had +seemed to her wrong and repugnant. Something had told her that somewhere +there must be something different and that somehow she must find it and +weave it into the pattern of her life. Of these things she had thought +as she sat in the summer evenings on the slab bench before the cabin +door. In summer there was a great pine, which, just after twilight had +faded into velvet blackness in the sky, pointed an index upward beyond +the valley; and over it, before the other stars came out there always +appeared a tiny point of light, which she chose to call her star. +Somehow, it seemed that in some vague future day that star would lead +her. + +She was often alone, for her father would leave her there and go his own +ways, but a day came when he returned and began throwing his few +possessions into a bundle. + +"M'nervy," he said with a sullen sort of embarrassment, "I reckon thar's +times when ye gits right-smart lonesome way up hyar, hain't thar?" + +A catch had come into her voice as she said: + +"Right often, Pappy." + +He nodded, then added abruptly: + +"Waal, we're ergwine ter nail up thet door ternight an' quit this-hyar +place." + +"Whar air we a-goin' ter?" + +"I done got myarried terday," he announced. "I reckon we'll go down an' +dwell with my wife's folks." + +The sun was nearing the western peaks and the afternoon was well spent. +The girl had had no intimation in advance of this contemplated change of +order. She stood there stunned. Life had been empty enough, but here at +least she had been in a fashion mistress of the wretched house, and here +she had had her pine tree and her star, which were the emblems of her +dreams. + +A long, low moan escaped her, and her father's face reddened in anger. +He turned away and left her, going into the house, and she fled +precipitately to the heights above and sobbed out her misery at the +roots of the pine to which she was bidding farewell. + +Then they had moved, and life had meant fitting herself into a new +family, no member of which liked her, and submitting to the shrewish +heckling of a step-mother, who seemed to her a hideous libel upon the +memory of the woman who had been lucky enough to die young. + +Now, as she sat with her book in her lap, because in a few days she must +go back to that cabin, the past was parading in review before her eyes, +and though she was very hungry for "larnin'" she was neglecting her +books. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The late convict had wasted his strength. His violent paroxysm of anger +had exhausted him more than his laborious tramp. It had sent his +temperature up and brought a sickening weakness to his muscles. He +wavered as he plodded and once or twice even stumbled to his knees, +until at last, with only three-quarters of a mile left, he turned aside +to the bank of the roadside and sat down with the sweat of weakness +dripping from his face. + +It was such a day as must have set poets to making jeweled phrases out +of words. The air and skies held that radiance which can make of a +Kentucky June morning a miracle of beauty. The horizons were dreamily +soft and warm. In the field at Newt Spooner's back a meadow-lark was +madly trying to burst his pulsating throat with the flood of golden joy. +In Newt Spooner's mind was a somber picture; a picture of the mountains +which a few days more would throw across the eastern sky-line, and of a +man who lived there and who was to die. He was to die without +opportunity to defend himself and without benefit of clergy. It was not +to be a fight, but an execution. In the entire mental range of the young +man panting by the roadside was no reflex of any other thing than brute +bitterness and "pizen meanness." + +A buggy and horse rose into view over the crest of the hill. It had only +one occupant and the occupant was a girl. She was unlike any woman Newt +Spooner had ever known; unlike any of the "gals" back in the mountains. +Her lithe figure had all the fresh charm of the sparkling morning and +all the spirited quality of the thorough-bred. And just as to Newt +Spooner the world held only gall, so to her it held only fragrance and +music and starshine--and an abiding faith in men and women. + +She was happy because she had not yet discovered any unhappiness and +because she was young ... and because to-day she would see in Winchester +a certain member of the opposite sex in whom her interest was direct and +personal. Meantime, June was softly glowing around the whole circle of +the sky's embrace and the trees were rustling their fresh greenery and +the birds were singing. + +She was singing, too, but suddenly she stopped as her eyes fell on the +young man by the roadside. Her quick gaze discerned that he was +desperately thin and that the color in his face burned only in hectic +spots against a chalky pallor. She saw, too, that as he wiped his +forehead on his sleeve his forearm and hand trembled. His clothes +proclaimed him lately released from the penitentiary, but her ideas on +the subject of prisons were vaguely confined to a compassionate regret +that they existed. Quite probably had she found him there looking weak +and sick even had he worn stripes, she would still have offered him +help. She drew the horse to a standstill, and called out cheerfully in a +voice as tuneful as the lark over yonder in the field: + +"Good-morning. Can't I give you a lift?" + +Newt Spooner gazed back at her sullenly and defiantly. The dog that has +only been kicked distrusts the hand thrust out in kindness. It is +unknown to his experience. + +"Naw," he declined, with as surly an utterance as possible. + +The girl flushed and her lips tightened. She flung back her head with a +gesture that set truant curls tantalizingly astir and flapped the reins +on the horse's back, but in quick afterthought she drew him down again. +This boy's rudeness did not alter the fact that he was sick. He looked +like a mountaineer and could hardly be expected to measure up to the +bluegrass requirements of courtesy. + +"You're about as polite as--as a mud-turtle," she calmly informed the +traveler, holding his eyes with an unflinching gaze, before which they +shamefacedly drooped; "but that doesn't make any difference. I'm going +into Winchester, and you don't look very well. Hadn't you better get in +and ride to town?" + +The boy from Troublesome stared his incredulity. She seemed to him a +marvelous sort of being. Her simple dress was to his eyes extravagantly +elegant and her patrician delicacy of feature belonged to an order +which neither the drudgery of the hills nor that of the state prison had +given him opportunity to study. + +"I reckon," he said slowly and diffidently, but no longer with a note of +bitterness, "hit hain't wuth while to pester ye." + +"That's all right," she commanded. "Climb in." Slowly he rose and +obeyed, the whiskey-flask protruding from his coat-pocket, and when they +had gone a quarter of a mile, Newt made his sole voluntary contribution +to the conversation. + +"I'm obleeged ter ye," he said. + +She did not question him unduly, nor ply him with conversation, but she +smiled, and in some subtle fashion there broke through the storm-wrack +of the boy's bitterness a thin ray of light and glow of graciousness. +She let him out at the court-house square, where buggies stood in rows +and traders jostled and the auctioneer's shout resounded, and there he +lost himself in the crowd; but first he stood looking after her until +her buggy turned a corner, and then he remembered that she had nodded +with a friendly smile of farewell. It was rather wonderful to be treated +like a human being. + +Newt Spooner wanted food and he wanted it to be cheap, so he foraged up +and down Main Street until he came upon that lower section where several +shabby eating-houses were sandwiched between equally shabby saloons. + +And while he stood on the pavement undecided which way to turn, a hand +was laid on his shoulder, and he wheeled, startled, to find himself +gazing into the face of his kinsman, Red Newton. + +"Come hyar," commanded the older man. "I done heered thet ye was +pardoned out, an' I sorter 'lowed ye'd be making tracks fer ther +mountings. I wants ter have talk with ye afore ye goes back." + +"I aims ter git a snack ter eat," demurred Newt. "I hain't a-goin' ter +talk ter no man afore I eats." + +The other nodded. + +"I knows a place whar we kin eat an' talk, too. Fult Cawsler hes done +moved hyar from over on Squabble Creek, an' opened a resteraw. All our +folks eats thar." + +The youth, who had three days before been Number 813, permitted himself +to be led through an uninviting doorway around which stood several gaunt +men in mud-spattered clothes. But Red Newton did not suffer him to halt +at any of those tables, covered with red oil-cloth, where several +taciturn pilgrims from the hills were feeding themselves from the blades +of their knives. Instead he whispered something to Fult Cawsler himself, +and was permitted to climb a narrow stairway at the back. At its head +they traversed a narrow hall and came into a separate room where around +a private table were seated a group of men whom the boy knew. Old Jason +Dode was, as usual, tipsy and, even as the new-comers entered, was +tilting the bottle of "red licker" which he unwillingly substituted for +the white and sweetish moonshine of his native stills. But the +important thing was that Black Pete Spooner stood gazing out of the open +window, though he stood back far enough to escape the eyes of passers-by +below. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets and on his face was the +same expression that always sat there. Few people passed Black Pete by +without turning to look again. He stood somewhat upward of six feet and +his broad shoulders tapered to a gauntness of waist and leg which gave +him the suggestion of a timber wedge. He was as tough as that +lumberman's implement and wedgelike, too, in his power of disrupting the +dividing elements which, but for him, might have hung together in +harmony. + +His dark head he carried high-flung with a swing of independence, and +that head, even more than the physique, caught and challenged attention. + +Black Pete's face was rather narrow and rather long, but its brow was +high, its nose strong and regular, and its chin had that square-blocked +declaration of resoluteness which commands respect. Under brows black +and bushy gazed out eyes that were the dominating feature. They were as +clear and penetrating as crystal lenses, and in them dwelt a sober, +almost sad contemplativeness as though the brain behind them were +habitually gazing off beyond horizons that limited other visions. They +were eyes that seemed able to pierce the opaque things of life. The hair +curled crisply in glistening black, about the forehead and neck, and +over the firm mouth a black mustache fell drooping in long ends. It was +a face that hinted at no violence, though at great strength and +determination. Rather was it suggestive of melancholy thought, and it +had won for him the satiric title of the "Deacon." + +As Red Newton and Newt Spooner came into the room, Black Pete turned his +glance for a moment upon them, then wheeled again to the window with no +apparent interest in their presence or existence. His face remained as +wistfully distracted as though he were a minister preparing a discourse, +on a text which lay very near his heart. But Newt, having seen him, +continued to stare. His eyes narrowed. He knew that several years ago, +before he had himself become a felon, the Deacon had gone West--where he +did not know. But he did know that only so long as this man remained +away from the county could there be hope of even comparative peace +between the Spooners and the Falkinses. So dreaded was the quiet-visaged +intriguer, so unalterably given to violence and the taking of lives, +that his exile had been the condition precedent to all negotiations for +truces and peace. Now Black Pete was back. Obviously, the meeting in +Cawsler's "resteraw," seventy miles from home, held some portent beyond +the casual. + +They brought the newest prodigal food, and, while he devoured it, +bolting it with wolfish hunger, he also picked up the loose ends of talk +and began to understand the situation. There had been an election down +in his section since Newt's conviction--an election and some other +things, which Red Newton briefly summarized as "merry hell." The +"penitentiarying" of Newt himself had been only the inaugural of more +sweeping and hateful innovations. Three times the old blood-feud had +broken into sporadic outbursts, and three men had been shot. But what +most galled was the fact that the commonwealth's attorney had shown a +hound-like nose for evidence and that all of the accused clansmen had +been viciously prosecuted. + +A truce had been patched, by the terms of which Jake Falerin, a cousin +of McAllister Falkins and the leader of the militant Falkinses, had +agreed to leave the hills and remove the menace of his disturbing +influence. He had gone only as far as Winchester, and, from councils +held there with visiting Falkinses, was as dangerous as though he had +remained at home, even while his own life was safer. The Spooners had +decided that this half-compliance was a practical breach of the truce, +and in accordance with that theory the Deacon had come home. At least, +he had come this far. In the meanwhile, the Honorable Cale Floyd, +commonwealth's attorney, had reaped the gratitude of his constituency. +Because he had waged relentless war on lawlessness and had begun to show +incipient symptoms of victory, he was defeated for reëlection. Sick of +the futility of such endeavor, he had closed the bare law-office before +which his shingle had swung in Jackson, and had come to Winchester, +where the field was larger and where men were more appreciative of the +qualities and principles for which he stood. He was the man who had put +stripes on Newt, and who, had he remained in office long enough, would +have made the pattern a family apparel for other Spooners. + +"That's how things stands, Newt," summarized Red, turning to the new +arrival, "an' that's what I 'lowed ye'd better know about afore ye went +back home." + +"An' them damned fellers, Jake Falerin an' Cale Floyd, is a settin' over +thar somewhars in this-hyar town right now, a-brewin' of more deviltry," +enlightened old Jason Dode in a hiccupy voice, "an' because they hain't +in the mountings, they 'lows they kin go right on with hit. We don't +'low they kin." + +The "Deacon" turned from the window, and strolled toward the table. +Newt, having appeased his hunger, was wiping his mouth on the spotted +tablecloth. The dark giant fixed him with thoughtful eyes. When he +spoke, his voice was in contrast with those of his fellows, for his life +in the West had almost freed it from drawl and vernacular, and he spoke +with a quiet graveness. + +"Son, this Cale Floyd is the same lawyer that sent you to prison." + +Newt's eyes flashed. + +"I reckon I hain't fergot thet," he said shortly. + +Black Pete nodded sympathetically, and went on with the same grave +intonation. + +"I reckon you wouldn't mind much if he got his dues?" + +"He's ergwine ter git his'n," asserted old Jason, his bloodshot eyes +wickedly aflare. "He's ergwine ter git his'n this day afore sundown. +An' Jake Falerin's ergwine ter git his'n, too. Them two fellers'll be in +hell ternight." + +"Shut the old fool up," suggested the Deacon passively; "he'll be +shouting that out in the street after one more swig of liquor." Then he +turned to Newt again. + +"If Floyd isn't taken care of, son, the next commonwealth's attorney +will follow right after him. We've got to give a lesson an' a warning. +Do you understand?" + +"I reckon I do," replied the ex-convict, but he spoke without ardor. + +"This evenin' about half-past four o'clock," proceeded Black Pete, +"Mister Lawyer Floyd is going to make a speech in front of the +court-house. There'll be a crowd, and we figure that Falerin will be +there, too. Our boys will get up close. Some of them will start a fight +amongst themselves, and I reckon they'll pull guns. Mr. Floyd an' Mr. +Falerin are apt to get accidentally shot." + +Newt Spooner rose, and stretched his arms. His food and rest had +refreshed him, and the red spots had gone out of his cheeks. + +"What for," he inquired coolly, "air ye a-tellin' me all this-hyar +business?" + +The Deacon's grave eyes clouded, but otherwise his expression did not +change. + +"We figured you'd be interested, son. You were the first Spooner they +ever put behind penitentiary bars. This man did it. We figured that when +we came to punish these fellers--" He broke off with a shrug of his +shoulders. + +"Ye 'lowed ye mout git me ter kill 'em?" Newt spoke with absolutely no +betrayal of interest. + +"Jest the lawyer, Newt," interpolated Red Newton ingratiatingly. "He's +your'n. Hit's yore right ter punish him." + +The late convict wheeled on the speaker, and his face blackened and +lowered. + +"The hell hit is!" he screamed. "I hain't aholden nothin' 'g'inst ther +lawyer. He didn't do nothin' but what he had a license ter do. I knows +who I'm atter. You folks wants two men killed, an' you wants me ter be +ther feller ter go ter the penitentiary fer doin' hit. What the hell did +any of ye do fer me last time? What the hell do I owe any of ye, wuth +goin' back thar fer?" + +For a moment, a general silence of dazed astonishment followed the +outburst. It was the Deacon who broke it at last. + +"All right, son," he said almost gently. "Every man accordin' to his +lights. I reckon you ain't goin' to tell anybody what you've heard?" + +Newt snorted contemptuously. + +"I reckon ye knows thar hain't no danger of _thet_." "Hit 'pears like," +interposed Red Newton with an apologetic shrug to the others, "hit +'pears like the penitenshery hes done broke ther boy's sperit. Some +folks is thet-away, but hit don't hardly seem like no Spooner." + +Newt wheeled on him. + +"Thet's a low-down lie," he stormed. "Nothin' hain't broke my sperit. I +hain't scairt of them, ner of you, ner of hell! I knows what I'm atter. +Thar's a feller I'm ergwine ter kill, but hit hain't this one. I'm +tendin' ter my own business?--not your'n. You-all got me inter one +killin', an' not a blame one of ye stood by me atterwards. Now all of ye +kin go ter hell!" + +He glared around the group for a moment and left the house, and no one +made an effort to stop him. Newt meant to take up his journey within an +hour or two. He, too, had a vengeance planned, but the man he sought was +back there in the mountains, and there was no use in "foolin' away time +an' money here." + +Yet an hour later he walked past the court-house and the large hotel +just beyond it, and abruptly, opposite the hotel door, he halted. He had +seen a buggy drive up and stop, and in the buggy was the girl who had +brought him to town. He had forgotten her, but now he paused across the +street and stood gazing. He gazed simply because she was the first +living soul who had ever been kind or gracious to him, and, precisely as +the blind man may feel the sunlight and know that it is pleasant, he +glowed dumbly under the remembrance of her smile. + +Then as he stood looking, a young man came out of the hotel with his hat +lifted and his face smiling. In his eyes was an expression easy to read, +an eager, glad welcome as he crossed the pavement with extended hand and +climbed into the buggy beside the girl. The young man was well dressed +and bore himself like a gentleman, yet he was a mountaineer by parentage +and birth. + +Newt's posture stiffened into rigidity. The color left his face and his +eyes began to burn balefully.... He had just recognized Henry Falkins. + +For an instant, the erstwhile convict stood paralyzed with astonishment, +then the blood in his arteries began pounding a fanfare of triumph. +Wheeling, he went rapidly toward the restaurant of Mr. Cawsler. There he +would find some of the clansmen, and one of them could lend him a +pistol. If they refused, he would ravish a weapon from them with his +bare hands. After that, if they let him have ten minutes for his own, he +would join them in any schemes, conspiracies or crimes that interested +them. For him, ten minutes would be sufficient. His walk broke into a +trot at which the passers-by laughed. A yokel in a hurry is always +amusing. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +A group of shabby men lounging in front of Fult Cawsler's restaurant +paid scant attention to a wild-eyed youth who came down the street at a +run and dashed into the door. Newt found the dining-room on the main +floor empty save for a weary and untidy woman who was clearing away the +china of the mid-day trade, and Fult Cawsler himself, whose bulky figure +was just then disappearing up the stairs. The boy stood for a moment +anxiously gazing about the place with its oil-cloth table-covers and its +gaudy wall calendars, then dashed pell-mell after the climbing +restaurateur. The woman called to him in high-pitched and raucous +prohibition, but Newt Spooner went heedlessly on his way. At the head of +the stairs in the murky hallway Cawsler turned, and without at once +recognizing the on-rushing invader wheeled belligerently to face him. + +The plans which had been hatched in his place that day were not such as +would enhance his reputation as a law-abiding tradesman should they come +to general knowledge. As the proprietor blocked the way, his voice +carried the ring of asperity. + +"What in hell air ye makin' such a furss about?" + +"Hit's me, hit's Newt Spooner," volleyed the unarmed avenger. "Whar's +Red? Whar's the Deacon? I hain't got no time ter fool round. I'm in +hell's own haste!" + +"They've done gone--all of 'em," responded Cawsler calmly, as he +recognized the ex-convict. "I don't know whar they're at." He paused, +and then admonished coldly, "Ye'd better set down and calm yoreself. Ef +ye runs around town so distracted-like, they'll put ye in the jail-house +fer shore." + +Newt only snarled. Here was a situation upon which he had not counted. +He had unexpectedly found his quarry, and he was unarmed. By the time he +remedied his deficiency his victim might have escaped. For an instant he +stood in a futile and silent transport of rage, his entire body in a +tremor of blood-lust and excitement. Then with an oath he pushed Cawsler +aside and entered the room where he had left his clansmen. It, too, was +empty, except for a figure breathing with drunken and stertorous stupor +in a chair at one corner. + +The one man was old Jason Dode. Newt rushed across, and unceremoniously +catching him by the shoulders, twisted his sagging figure until it lay +chest upward. The old drunkard mumbled and raised balky hands against +the indignity, but consciousness flitted only spasmodically across his +face, and he sank back again with an incoherent murmur. Newt tore open +his coat and vest, and ran his hand under the left armpit, but he found +there only an empty holster. Old Jason was drunk and ineffective, and +lest in his maudlin condition he might wander out and disturb the +equilibrium of their plans, the clan had disarmed him. Newt rose and +faced Cawsler. + +"I've got ter have a gun," he exploded. "Git me a gun!" + +But Cawsler, gazing into the wild face and burning eyes, judged that +Newt, too, had been "hittin' up the red licker," and that a gun was just +what he least needed. Accordingly he shrugged the fat shoulders under +his dirty shirt, and shook his head in negation. + +"I hain't got no gun," he lied; "I done loaned mine out." With another +wild oath, the would-be assassin dashed down the steps and out into the +street. He would search the town until he found a kinsman, and +incidentally he would try to keep an eye of sufficient watchfulness on +Henry Falkins to remain familiar with his movements. It did not occur to +him that Henry Falkins might be unsuspicious. To his mind Henry Falkins +must know, if he had heard of the pardon, that, straight as a homing +pigeon, Newt would come to him for reprisal. Such was the code of the +Cumberlands. So his task was threefold: to arm himself; to find Henry +Falkins; and to conceal himself from Henry Falkins. + +The Spooner aggregation meant to make its appearance at the +psychological moment, and until that moment to remain as invisible as a +covey of quail in close brush. Newt, no longer excited of guise, but +quiet, almost feline in his alert movements, slunk from saloon to +saloon, and scanned the length of the streets with a purposeful glitter +in his eye--and his search for a kinsman was vain. + +The afternoon was well advanced when the boy, lurking in a side street, +saw a buggy pass at a rapid trot, and recognized its occupants. The +vehicle was going out Main Street, and in it were a girl and a man. For +the second time that day, he had sighted his quarry, and, turning into +Main Street, he began to follow. It was merely reconnaissance, but, if +he could hold the vehicle in sight long enough, he might know where +later to take up his watch. A man on foot is poorly equipped to follow a +standard-bred trotter between the shafts of a light buggy, but the +streets of Winchester lie over gradual and rolling hills, and the girl +who held the reins was a humane driver. A square ahead, she drew her +horse to a walk for the climb, so the man could keep them in sight as +far as the next ridge, and he strode along at a rapid distance-devouring +walk, forgetting his weariness as a hunter forgets it when a covey rises +whirring from the stubble. + +Then for a while he lost them, and so, losing and regaining his view, he +followed them up and down hill till the town dwindled into outskirts and +the street became a smooth turnpike between farms and woodlands. But, at +last, the difference in speed told, and the boy reluctantly abandoned +the chase. Not, however, until he had glimpsed through stretches of +velvet woodland a thing which he did not understand, and which he paused +in perplexity to study. Back in the patriarchal grove of oaks and +walnuts and hickories was a frame platform, and men were working on +their hands and knees, polishing its floors. About it were strung long +lines of paper lanterns of bright and varied colors and fantastic +shapes. Still farther back, but close of access to the platform, rose +the front of an ancient and vine-covered mansion with its little village +of barns and servants' quarters, peeping out between lilac bushes and +cedars. But it was the platform that puzzled the mountain traveler, and +he perched himself on the fence to "study" about it. + +A negro boy, riding a colt and carrying an empty basket, came jogging +down the avenue and into the pike, where he drew rein in response to +Newt Spooner's signal. + +"What mout thet contraption be over yon?" demanded the mountaineer in a +surly voice, as he indicated with a jerk of his head the object of his +curiosity. + +The servant laughed long and loud. He was a young negro and mounted. By +putting spurs to his steed he could escape any penalty of insolence, and +if the mountaineer dislikes the negro it is with no greater scorn than +that which the negro feels for the poor white. When he had finished +laughing his white teeth continued to gleam in a wide grin. + +"Thet-thar contraption," he mimicked with an excellent impersonation of +the nasal drawl in which he had been questioned, "is a platfawm. It's +shorely an' p'intedly a platfawm. Our folks is gwine ter have a platfawm +dance ternight. Saxton's band's coming frum Lexin'ton ter play de music, +and all de quality folks'll be hyar." + +At the sneer of the servant's manner, Newt Spooner had slipped down from +the place he had assumed on the fence, and stalked menacingly out into +the road. The negro had moved his horse a little to the side and waited. +But, at the information received, Newt forgot his wrath in the +engrossment of a sudden idea. A dance! The young people would be there +in force. Perhaps among them would be the one he sought. In his country +where round dances are unknown, special invitations are not required. +Word goes out that so-and-so is giving a dance at such-and-such a point, +and the countryside troops thither for shuffle and jig and wassail. + +"I reckon," said Newt slowly, "I reckon I'll be thar." + +The black boy let out a loud guffaw. He leaned back with one hand +supporting his weight on the haunches of his mount, and whooped his +mirthful derision to the open heavens. Newt gazed at him, first in +astonishment; then in passion. + +"What air ye a-laughin' at, nigger?" he inquired with low-pitched +ferocity of voice. + +The boy gathered up his reins, and, under the pressure of his spurred +heel, the colt was away in a gallop. + +"I may be a nigger," he flung back over his shoulder, "but I ain't no +po' white trash. The likes of you comin' to our dance! Good Gawd!" A +roar of ironical laughter followed in the wake of clattering hoofs, +while Newt Spooner, his thin face working with a positive mania of +fury, hurled rock after rock at the retreating figure. + +Slowly the mountain boy walked back toward town, his black suit already +whitened with a fine coating of turnpike dust. + +As he neared the court-house, he quickened his step, for a dense crowd +was gathered at its front, and he knew that the speaking must be in +progress. His people would be in the throng and they would be armed. If +he were going to the dance to-night, he needed a gun, and yet his +craftiness automatically set a restraint on his impatient haste. Should +he rush headlong into that crowd just on the verge of trouble, he might +rush also into arrest. The applause and laughter with which the crowd +just now jostled shoulders told him that nothing had yet occurred to +break the peace or equipoise of the occasion; but that something +was to happen he knew, and the knowledge made him cautious. A +distinguished-looking gentleman with white hair was speaking from an +improvised stand, and, as the ex-convict drew near the outskirts of the +crowd, he found himself standing near a man who wore a blue coat, and +leaned on a stout hickory staff. The partial uniform of this individual +proclaimed a town marshal, and the badge on the breast corroborated the +proclamation. It occurred to Newt that to be talking with an officer of +the law when the shooting began would constitute an excellent alibi. So +he stopped, and touching the officer on the elbow, inquired: + +"Stranger, who mout thet man be, thet's a-talkin'?" + +The policeman turned and regarded him out of a broad, good-humored face, +in which shrewd, but merry eyes twinkled. + +Newt wanted that officer to know him the next time they met, and to +remember him definitely, so he returned the gaze with one frank and +unblinking. + +"That's General Braden, sonny," the town marshal amiably enlightened; +"he's just introducin' the Honorable Cale Floyd. That's Floyd now." + +"I hain't in yore way, am I, stranger?" questioned Newt humbly by way of +further emphasizing his presence. "I 'low ef I hain't, I'll jest stay +right hyar an' listen at him speak." + +The officer laughed. + +"Stay right where you are, sonny," he invited; "I expect it's as good a +place as any." And then, to the boy's delight, the other laid a hand +lightly on his shoulder. + +The young man from the waters of Troublesome wore a blank face, although +it was difficult. He had told himself that he felt no hostility for this +prosecutor who had convicted him. Yet, now, as he saw the tall man step +forward to take his place on the platform, remove his felt hat and shake +back the black hair which fell, mane-like, over his forehead, Newt +acknowledged a sense of gladness that he was to be killed. + +The Honorable Cale Floyd had fought a bitter battle back there in the +lawless hills for the vindication of law. He had walked in the shadow +of death and had been deprived of office; ostracized like Aristides +because he was "too just a man." + +Now, he had come down here to the cultured bluegrass, and was being +pointed out as something of a hero. Clients with well-filled purses +brought their litigation to his office. And it came to pass that in the +glow of unwonted recognition, the simplicity with which he had faced +peril back there in his own country was slipping from him. He felt the +theatric quality of the moment, and struck something of a pose as the +crowd took in his tall figure and broad shoulders and country lawyer's +make-up of frock coat and black string tie. He had recognized that it +was more effective to appear the backwoods lawyer than the well-groomed +attorney. His mentality would flash more startlingly from six feet of +rugged mountaineer, and his attainments would limn themselves forth in a +more impressive forcefulness. In short, the Honorable Cale Floyd was not +now averse to capitalizing his past vicissitudes. + +So he shook back his hair, and stood smiling with the June sun slanting +to his fearlessly rugged features and touching them like a face cast in +bronze. Then he began to talk. He warmed into his subject, gathering a +wine-like thrill from the interested attention of the upturned faces; +faces which long jury experience made as readable to him as clear type, +and he threw more and more fire into his utterance, until he was borne +out of himself and into a realm of eloquence. With a characteristic +gesture, he leaned far outward and stretched his hand, index-like, +toward the edge of the crowd. Thus had he turned often from the jury-box +and scourged with figure and invective the man in the prisoner's dock. +It chanced that all unconsciously the finger went like an aimed weapon +to the face of Newt Spooner, and straightway the boy saw red. From his +mind passed the white brick façade of the bluegrass court-house, the sea +of hats and the field of shoulders, and in their stead there rose again +before him the dingy interior in Jackson, where he sat beside his +counsel, while this same man, with this same gesture, loosed on his head +all the bolts of the law's castigation. And at that same moment, playing +with hypnotic intensity on his audience, the Honorable Cale Floyd fell +instantly and suddenly silent, holding his bronze-like pose of +outstretched arm and hand. It was only for a momentary pause: an +oratorical trick of contrast and emphasis, out of which his voice would +presently ring again in compelling tones. But in that instant of quiet +there rose from the center of the crowd a sudden shuffle and a muffled +outcry accompanied by a swaying of bodies. It was so close to the stand +that the speaker, looking off more widely, was conscious of it only with +annoyance for a marred effect. But, as he drew himself erect once more, +to the undefined disturbance was added an outbreak of oaths, and, before +they had died away, several close pistol reports came spitting sharply +from the front, and little wisps of blue smoke twisted upward above the +hats. At once there followed a general pandemonium, shoving, shouting, +the shrill screams of women; an effort among the panic-stricken to get +away by climbing over those who obstructed them. + +With an oath, and an eloquent sweep of the hand to his pistol-pocket, +the town marshal left Newt, who stood with an enigmatical smile on his +lips, and went ploughing through the scattering mob toward the center of +the disturbance. For a breathing space, the speaker stood leaning on the +rail of the platform and looking out with no expression on his face save +one of chagrined interruption. + +Newt Spooner suppressed a snarl of contempt. + +"By God," he muttered to himself, "ef they didn't go an' plumb miss +him!" + +But, as he was still growling inwardly with disgust, the attorney +started to step back, reeled and crumpled limply to the floor of the +platform. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +After the momentary shock of sudden panic the scattered auditors began +shamefacedly drifting back for inquiry and a solution. + +Newt Spooner saw General Braden and a companion carrying the limp figure +of the mountain lawyer down the stairway of the platform and heard them +cursing the lawlessness of the mountaineers who, "having made an +excursion from their own shambles were waging their damnable war on the +streets of a civilized town." + +He saw the crowd opening to let out several men who bore another +prostrate figure, and, as they passed, one glance at the face, which had +fallen back, loose-jawed, between the supporting arms, told him that +some one had "gotten" Jake Falerin. Then he saw the town marshal, +supported by half-dozen volunteer deputies, fighting for a passage +through the throng with the prisoners, whose bodies they shielded with +their own. This group made its way up the stairs, and flattened itself +against the court-house wall. + +Behind the drawn revolvers of the guard, the late convict recognized the +faces of Red Newton and his accomplice. Already the crowd, which had a +moment before been in panic-stricken flight, was pressing menacingly +forward, and talk of lynching ran like wildfire from mouth to mouth. The +officer was brandishing his pistol, and two of the volunteers were +holding aloft, in show of force, the revolvers they had taken from the +captives, whom they were waiting to slip through the court-house halls +to the jail. Someone had gone around to unlock the doors. + +The prisoners themselves stood stoically enough with mask-like faces, +and if the roar of bluegrass wrath intimidated them, their eyes and lips +showed no trace. + +The countenance of Red Newton even wore a satirical smile as he +commented to the other Spooner, loudly enough to be heard around a wide +radius: + +"These-here furriners air shore hell-bent on law an' order, hain't they? +They're bounden fer ter have hit, even if they has ter lynch folks ter +git hit." + +Then the door opened, and the officer with his prisoners backed swiftly +through it and slammed it in the faces of the crowd. Newt calmly walked +down the stairs, and strolled along the street. At a corner, he saw +Black Pete leaning nonchalantly against the wall in conversation with a +farmer, who was roundly berating the violence of the mountaineers. The +Deacon was chewing a wooden toothpick and regarding his chance companion +with grave and respectful attention, nodding his head in approval of the +sentiments expressed, but, as Newt passed him, he fell into step, and +the two walked together toward Mr. Cawsler's restaurant. + +"Son," suggested the quiet giant who had arranged the little tragedy of +the afternoon, "this town's going to be a right-bad place for us +mountain men for a time. If I was you, I'd dig out." + +"Thet's my business," retorted the other sullenly. "I've got a matter +ter settle up, fust--besides I reckon I kin prove I didn't have no hand +in these doin's. I was havin' speech with the policeman when hit busted +loose." + +The Deacon came as near smiling as he ever came. One side of his long +mustache tilted up, but his eyes remained sadly grave. + +"I reckon I can prove that I didn't have no part in it, either," he said +easily. "But some of these Falerins have seen me around town, and I +reckon they'll try to get me implicated. That Falkins crowd suspects +everybody. Come in here with me a minute, son." + +The Deacon turned and led the way into a saloon, already noisy with +excited men having recourse to drink and discussion. + +They passed through the place and into the yard at the rear, where, +after a look around to assure himself that they were alone, the older +man drew a heavy revolver from under his coat. + +"If they try to get me into it," he said calmly, "I'm going to make them +search me. Keep my gun for me a while, if you don't mind. You were with +the policeman, and they won't suspicion you." + +For a moment Newt hesitated, then came the thought of his own affairs. A +weapon was what, above all other things, he needed. Accordingly, he +took it silently, and slipped it inside his coat, and without a word or +a nod turned and walked back through the saloon, to disappear beyond its +swinging screens. + +When night came a two-thirds moon rode high and paled the summer stars +into pin-points. Newt Spooner knew from talk on the streets that the +lawyer would recover to reap greater reputation from the affair in +which, even after leaving the storm of his own country, he had fallen +under a mountain hand. But Jake Falerin would reap nothing from the +afternoon's doings beyond an obituary in the newspapers: an obituary +which would recount a sanguinary career closed with a sanguinary climax. + +These matters, however, gave Newt only minor concern. He was not to be +shaken from a fixed resolve by other men's hopes or disappointments. +Nightfall found him trudging out the moon-bathed turnpike between the +blue and silver mists of the fields; because, though uninvited, he was +going to a party. He was not going as a guest, nor yet wholly as an +onlooker. If one man was not among the guests, he would turn back from +the fringe of the festivity, touching it no further. If that one man was +there, Newt Spooner meant to break up the party, and add a sequel to the +shocking transpirings of the afternoon. + +Many buggies passed him, driving slowly, for the night was gracious with +the sweet fragrance of the young summer, and the occupants of the +vehicles were young, too, and no part of a summer dance is better than +the going thither and the coming home. From this caravan came the music +of much laughter, and now and then the lilting of a song: sounds as +unaccustomed to Newt Spooner as grand opera. But the only impression +made on him was the realization that he was too early; so, when he found +a thick grove flanking the road, he climbed the fence and lay down under +a hedge and rested. While he was stretched there in the dewy grass, he +cocked and uncocked the revolver to make sure that, when he needed it, +it would not fail him. + +It was a night for lovers and lovers were availing themselves of it, but +to Newt Spooner the seductive whispers through the upper branches of the +oaks carried no message of peace or minstrelsy. Yet, even to him, there +was a dumb sense that life here in the great "down below" was a +different thing, and, as he lay there fingering the mechanism of his +revolver, he could not escape a large and disturbing wonderment. The +breadth of the sky made him feel small and alone in the center of +vastness. At home, mountain walls rose confiningly on all sides and one +looked up at a narrowed patch of stars as if from the depth of a great +well. But here one could gaze away on the level of the eyes and watch +the wonderful phenomenon of a heaven coming down with its stars to meet +the edge of the flattened earth. At home, one would ride the dirt roads +on muleback and in silence, save where the hoofs splashed along the +creek-beds. But here the horses beat a sharp rat-tat with metal shoes on +a metaled road, and the rubber-tired wheels ran noiselessly. These +people, too, reversed the order of things even as their country reversed +them. At home, almost every one was poor; here every one seemed rich, +and the women, whom every mountaineer knows should be treated as +inferiors, suited only to the tasks of housework and child-rearing, were +treated by the men as equals. That he knew from the chatter and laughter +of those who passed in earshot, driving two and two. And what fools they +all were, for surely no people who were not fools could chatter and +laugh and sing! + +After an hour, the buggies passed less frequently, leaving the road free +of travel, except for town-faring negroes on foot and singing. Then Newt +Spooner came out from behind his hedge and made his way once more along +the turnpike. What his eyes had once seen his memory retained with +photographic distinctness, and as soon as he reached the beginning of +the low stone fence, which he had noted that afternoon, he knew that he +was drawing near the dance. + +But Newt would have known that he was near his destination without the +fence, for already, though blurred by the distance into an indistinct +and formless spot of brightness and color, he could make out the +illumination of the Chinese lanterns and there came to his ears across +the softness of the night the merry strains of a band playing a +two-step. + +The mountain boy made a rapid survey. The house sat deeply back in the +woodland, some five hundred yards from the road, but the platform, +though almost directly at its front, lay nearer the farther side. The +lateral fences of the woodland were lined with locust groves, giving a +band of shadow along the edges. He might have crossed the fence at the +nearest corner and worked his way back, but time was not an object, and +so, before selecting his route, he went along the turnpike to the other +side of the place for fuller reconnaissance, and found there even better +and more continuous cover. Also, by taking that side, he was further +from the driveway and would arrive closer to the platform without +leaving the shadow. As Newt crossed into the woodland, he became +invisible, thanks to the inky shade of the locusts, just now heavy with +fragrance of bloom. The thickets of his own rhododendron and laurel +could not have availed him more serviceably. At his left were acres of +undulating bluegrass, broken generously with forest trees, and between +the trees lay a silver lake of open moonlight, dotted with islands of +shadow. But, by following the fence line back, he could invisibly draw +near to the platform, and creep still closer under the shelter of a +heavy growth of lilac bushes. + +Suddenly, the mountain boy's heart began to pound in a strange way. He +had never been afraid of anything and he was not afraid now, but as he +crept, like a woodland animal, close enough to take in details, he felt +as a man might feel who finds himself pursuing an enemy on Mars. He was +in a new world and one so strange to him that its very difference +brought a sense of misgiving. He had been born and reared in a +windowless mountain cabin of one room. His light at night had been that +of crackling logs on a stone hearth and a single lamp without a chimney. +He had heard hatred of enemies preached before he could talk himself. +That his present purpose was righteous, he passionately believed; that +one should pay his blood-debt seemed axiomatic. Yet, as he looked out, +he could not shake off that sense of strange uneasiness. Something was +wrong. Perhaps it was simply the inarticulate realization that the scene +was set for merry-making and not for tragedy. At home, it was different. +The mountains were sterner and bred sterner emotions. The darkness there +seemed grimmer, too. This was not the night or place for a murder. + +Criss crossed about the platform and between the trees swayed the vivid +color splashes of the lanterns, like magnified and luminous confetti. +Sifting and eddying on the swaying floor went the rhythmic whirlpool of +dancers. The soft colors of evening gowns, the ivory flashes of girlish +shoulders and the floating of filmy scarfs dizzied the boy, who by the +iron dictate of heredity and upbringing was a human rattle-snake. The +strange sight of men in evening dress, their shirt-fronts gleaming like +conspicuous targets, added to his bewilderment. + +Between the trees passed strolling couples whose laughter lilted +musically, and, as he crept nearer in the shadow of the lilac bushes, he +saw a queer little affair which was also new to him, only a few yards +away. It was a rustic summer-house, over the timbers of which trailed +masses of honey-suckle, and into it, as he lay there peering sharply +ahead, went a man and a girl. The man was dutifully wielding a fan after +the flush of the dance and talking earnestly in a low tone, and the girl +was laughing up into his face with a silvery softness so unlike the +nasal voices of his own kind that Newt could make nothing of it. Nowhere +was the hint of hardship: the hardship which was in his country life's +dominant note. Back at the rear in the moonlight, the whitewashed barns +and fences gleamed like structures of ivory. + +He lay there on his stomach, his elbows on the ground and his chin in +his hands, trying to search the faces of the dancers. But the dancers +shifted and sifted in so bewildering a maze that even had they been +nearer at hand he could hardly have identified familiar features. Then +the music stopped, and he drew a breath of relief, for the platform +partly emptied itself, and, as the couples came down and strolled under +the lanterns, it was easier to search for the face he wanted to see. + +Newt Spooner had been there perhaps an hour while waltz and two-step +alternated to set the human mass he was trying to sift into fresh and +maddening puzzles of rapid movement and vagueness. At the distance he +had decided it was hopeless, and though the summer-house under the +honey-suckle seemed a favorite retreat to which couple after couple came +for a moment of rest and innocent flirtation, it had not proved a Mecca +for his victim, if indeed his victim were there at all. Of this +possibility he now felt a diminishing credulity. He would, nevertheless, +try to slip closer for a final scrutiny and then go back to town, +admitting temporary defeat. Then, as with snake-like movements he was +hitching himself forward, he suddenly stopped and crouched closer to the +ground and held his intaken breath in his throbbing throat. + +A new couple came out of the shadow and strolled across the patch of +open moonlight toward the summer-house. The girl was she who had picked +him up on the road, and the man was Henry Falkins. Even in evening +dress, there was no mistaking the features, and that shirt-front was a +target to even an amateur's taste. + +The girl wore a filmy gown and about her bare shoulders was thrown some +silky thing as iridescent as gossamer. But, unlike those others who had +come there, she was not laughing. + +Instead, she was looking up with a very direct gaze into the man's face, +and her eyes and lips bore a somewhat wistful seriousness. + +At the front of the summer-house, her companion stopped and broke a +spray of bloom from the vine. + +"It always reminds me of you," he told her in a soft voice. "There may +be sweeter fragrances, but I doubt it. I guess that's why." + +He lifted a drooping branch of leaf and bloom, and she passed under his +arm. + +Newt Spooner was lying only a few yards away, but he must be closer. The +mass of vine obscured his line of vision, and he had no wish to kill +the girl. Behind his ambuscade of trellised supports, he could come near +enough to reach his hand through and touch his victim if he chose. It +was almost too simple--too easy. Yet, after all, it was a bad +arrangement, though that he could not remedy. He must announce himself +to the man he meant to kill, or defeat the satisfaction of revenge. To +let him die without realizing why would rob the punishment of its sting. +Then the woman would doubtless make an outcry, and his chance of escape +would end. Besides that there was a second objection: the girl had +befriended him. He was to some extent "beholden to her." He wished now +that he had refused to drive with her; but, when he had accepted her +invitation, he had had no idea that his purpose could concern her, and +his purpose came first. + +Newt Spooner drew very near. He cautiously pulled back a branch of the +honey-suckle, and looked through. The girl was sitting with her eyes +downcast, and the man standing with one knee on the rough bench. He was +leaning forward and his voice, though tense with earnestness, was almost +a whisper. Newt might at that moment have been noisy instead of +noiseless without danger of distracting the attention of that man and +woman. + +At home in the mountains, Henry Falkins would have been more wary, but +here in the bluegrass he had laid aside all thoughts of danger, as he +had laid aside his high-laced boots and corduroys. He was standing at +the other side of life's gamut. Enmity, for him, did not exist. The +universe was filled, he believed at that moment, to the boundary of the +last sentinel star with love. The night breathed it. He was breathing +it, the girl's eyes were just then raised to meet his, brimming with a +light that set his pulses bounding. + +"Back there in the hills," he said, "there is a place high up the +mountainside that looks down on such a night as this over an ocean of +silver mists in the valley. I have often gone there alone and listened +to the nightingale talking about you. After this," he added joyously, +"all nights will be moonlight and starlight for me, dear, if--" But +there he broke off and became silent. + +Newt Spooner advanced one knee a few inches, and steadied his position. +He drew the vine back a little further with his left hand, and slowly +thrust his right into his coat pocket. When it came back, it held the +pistol, and this Newt placed at his back, that the soft click of its +cocking might be muffled by his intervening body. + + * * * * * + +The stars were as bright and the moon as serene that night back in the +broken ramparts of the mountains as here in the lowlands. No hint of +brewing tragedy disturbed the majesty of the summits that raised their +crests into the cobalt, or marred the silvery flood that bathed the +valleys. + +Where the college buildings nestled in a tidy village near the waters of +Fist-fight Creek, the picture was a nocturne that must have brought joy +to the heart of a painter whose soul responds to the beautiful. + +Already, in the dormitories, most of the children were asleep, but one +girl, who was half child and half woman, crept noiselessly down the +stairs of the building where she had her room, and made her way to the +creek-bank. + +She had spent a longer time over her studies than had her fellow pupils, +because in her serious little breast burned a hunger for that education +which might open new ways and make for her a life beyond the +imprisonment of her environment. + +In years, Minerva Rawlins was a child, but the life of her people brings +early maturity and into her little brain had recently been creeping the +restlessness of new things--and of womanhood. To-night, the plaintive +call of the whippoorwills from the deep shadows of the timber was a call +to be under open skies, where the thoughts that assailed her might not +feel cramped within walls. There were many things of which she must +think--and it happened that the subject uppermost in her mind was Henry +Falkins. + +She went with lithe tread and pliant carriage down beyond the saw-mill +to a spot where the sycamores hung low by the waters that swirled in a +cascade over a litter of huge rocks. On the steep mountainside beyond, +the flowering laurel and rhododendron were thick, and the forests hardly +showed a scar from the axes that had claimed the timber for the +buildings. She had discovered that here through a gap between two +summits she could see the same pale star to which the single pine had +pointed back there from the front door of the cabin, which, wretched as +it was, had been her only idea of home. In the silvers and grays and +cobalts of the picture, and in the night song of the whippoorwills and +booming frogs, there was solace, and to-night she wanted solace. + +She told herself that this restlessness which would not let her sleep +was loneliness; but beyond that single feeling were others more complex +for which she had no analysis. + +There was the starving eagerness for something very different from what +wares life had ever spread to her gaze, some yearning that had crept +down through lapsed generations from an ancestor or ancestress who had +known the courtly life of Old Virginia before the pioneer tide swept +them westward to their stranding. This hunger was a fiery thing, which +made the eagerness to learn blaze hotly because its attainment meant +struggle. + +Then there was the conflict between that loyalty which the code of the +Cumberlands impresses as a cardinal duty upon its children, and an +insurgent hatred for the squalid family into which her father's second +marriage had thrown her. + +The law of feudalism and of the clan writes at the head of its +decalogue, "Kith and kin above all." Minerva would have resented an +implication of wanted staunchness, and yet as she sat with her small and +well-chiseled chin cradled in the hands, which drudgery must soon make +hard and shapeless, her eyes filled with tears and her slender body +trembled with instinctive repulsion at the thought of return to the +cabin where the razor-backed hogs would scratch their backs under the +gaping floor timbers, and where darkness hung day-long between +smoke-blackened rafters. + +And though she did not admit that either, a part of the restlessness was +the awakening of womanhood, and the woman's hunger for love. She thought +of all the young men she knew back there; of the boorish creatures whose +breath reeked with moonshine whiskey, and whose thoughts were as coarse +as their brogans, and once more a shiver ran through her. + +It all made her feel very wicked. She had come to the college and +learned a little, and she had learned above all a fastidious discontent, +which was poisoning her thoughts. + +She told herself she ought to be very happy. Then a smile stole across +her face as she sat there in the moonlight, and she drew from the collar +of her calico dress a small medal on a string. It was a medal that had a +few days before been awarded her for proficiency, but to her it stood +for the nearest glimpse she had ever had of romance, though of romance +passing by like a caravan which she had viewed from the wayside. + +There had been spelling matches and recitations and the award of small +prizes at the college, and the rough folk had trooped in from the +countryside, riding mules or walking from many miles about. Women had +come in bright-hued calicoes and sun-bonnets, and bearded, gaunt men in +hodden-gray. Through that gathering and above it, since one who is very +young and very inexperienced may be pardoned for a finger-touch from the +gods of romance, a figure had stood out for Minerva Rawlins, endowed +with every superiority. + +The guests of honor on that occasion had been Old Mack Falkins and his +son Henry. Old Mack had made a speech and, in awarding the prizes, his +son had followed him. The people of the countryside had listened, and +their applause had rocked the rafters, with that sincerity of admiration +which they accorded to his native-born eloquence. But it was the younger +man who had brought to Minerva Rawlins her first stir of hero-worship; +the adulation of the inexperienced young girl for the first man she had +seen who seemed an exemplar and a revelation. + +Comparison is the one yard-stick of life, and by comparison this young +man, who had lived the life of the outer world as well as that at home, +might well have loomed large to such impressionable eyes. + +Minerva was seeing that scene again; the school-room with its shuffling +audience, and the young speaker whose words carried no taint of dialect +or inelegance, as he spoke of the torch which was being lighted here to +dispel the murk of illiteracy. + +What Henry Falkins had said became in a fashion Minerva's standards. She +found herself hating the lawlessness of the feud and the squalor of +backwoods ignorance. She found herself wishing to be a recruit in the +little army that sought to raise other ideals--but most of all she +found herself longing rebelliously for the chance to have in her own +life the companionship of some man like that. To herself she put it that +way. She did not say _that_ man, but, when she said "some man like +that," the features and bearing and voice of young Falkins portrayed +themselves, and as she sat with the medal in her fingers, listening to +the whippoorwills, her fancy conjured up his image. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +When Newt Spooner had begun his search for Henry Falkins that afternoon +he had not been so unobserved as he thought himself. Not very far behind +him had walked Red Newton. He had not left Cawsler's with any intention +of spying upon the boy and had seen him only by chance, yet when the +latter halted in front of the hotel and stood there with the telltale +expression which the recognition of Falkins brought to his face, Red +Newton observed it and slipped silently into the door of a convenient +store. When Newt went running excitedly back to Cawsler's place, the +brain of the older clansman began to work rapidly. To his memory +recurred the tirade that had broken so tempestuously from the boy's +lips. + +"I knows what I'm atter. I knows who I'm ergwine ter git. Thar's a +feller I'm ergwine ter kill." The unforgiving malice in the boy's eyes, +the rigid posture of his whole body as he stood contemplating his enemy, +told Red Newton the whole story. This, then, was the man Newt meant to +kill. It was logical enough. This was the witness who had riddled the +alibi. + +At first, Red Newton shrugged his shoulders in the fashion of one who +has no call to meddle in the affairs of others, but as fresh aspects of +the matter presented themselves to his consideration, a very real danger +to all his family arose to confront him. + +If Newt should shoot Henry Falkins on the streets of Winchester before +the speaking of this afternoon, it would stir into action such a tidal +wave of public indignation against the mountaineers that the more vital +conspiracy would be thwarted. He surmised that Newt was rushing back to +Cawsler's place to arm himself, and his first instinct was to follow. +Then he remembered that the place was now empty save for the drunken +Dode, and Cawsler himself, whose discretion could be trusted. So, he +took no action, and, when later the same buggy passed the court-house +and within a few moments Newt went swinging along after it on foot, the +disappointed face of the boy told the other that he had failed. Red +Newton rubbed his stubbled chin reflectively, bit off a large chew of +tobacco and withdrew into his inner consciousness for reflection. As the +result of those cogitations he strolled over to the hitching rack where +he found a lowland farmer with whom he had spent a part of the morning +talking cattle. + +"Stranger," he suggested, "I 'lowed I'd love to ride out the road a +piece, an' I figgered I'd ask ye ter lend me yore horse fer about a +half-hour. I hain't ergwine fur, an' I won't ride him hard. I'll do es +much fer you when you come up my way." + +With ready assent, the farmer went over and untied his plug, and Red +Newton swung himself to the saddle. Then he rode slowly and casually +after the boy. He did not try to overtake him, satisfying himself with +keeping him in sight, while he himself remained too far back to be +recognizable. But Red Newton had affairs of consequence in town, so, as +soon as he was satisfied that Newt had lost sight of the buggy, he +turned back. He intended to mention the circumstance to Black Pete, but +Black Pete was keeping discreetly out of sight, and so he found no +opportunity for speech with him. + +Meanwhile, the throng about the court-house was thickening, and Red +Newton caught sight of Jake Falerin making his way to a place near the +stand. That was his own cue for action, so, forgetting minor things, and +keeping as inconspicuous as possible, he began edging toward a position +of proximity in Falerin's rear. He signaled with a nod to one of his +kinsmen, who was standing silently, but alertly, a little way off, and +who at once began working forward in answer to the sign. The plan worked +with well-oiled smoothness. Red Newton came so close that he almost +brushed shoulders with his intended victim, and even when he stood at +Jake Falerin's back, chewing his tobacco with as little expression as a +cow chewing its cud, Falerin did not turn around or suspect his +presence. + +As the speaking went forward, Red Newton cast his eyes about, and placed +those of his kinsmen who were present. It had not been deemed advisable +to have the clan largely represented, and it gave him pleasure to +recognize that Falerins largely out-numbered Spooners. Later, when the +question of self-defense and placing the responsibility arose, it would +appear that the Falkins element had come en masse, and from this +circumstance would arise a presumption of malice aforethought on their +part. That would materially strengthen the Spooner defense. In dividing +the mountain men into the two factions of Spooner and Falkins, Red +followed the classification of the feud. The Falerins and Hulburts and +their kindred were "Falkinses," though they bore other names, just as he +himself, though a Newton, was nevertheless a Spooner. + +At the psychological moment, Red Newton stepped forward and violently +dug his elbow into Jake Falerin's midriff. Falerin wheeled to see who +was crowding him, and the eyes of the two mountaineers met in a glance +which escaped the generality of upturned faces. So well did each +understand what a quarrel between them must mean that Jake did not hedge +an inch nor attempt to evade the issue. He planted his left fist on Red +Newton's jaw, while he drew with his right. But Red Newton was the more +prepared, though, as he reeled back under the blow, he would have +fallen, had there been room to fall. As it was he leaned against the +crowd, and fired from that position, just a fraction of a second before +Falerin's weapon came free of the holster. It was only those directly at +Red's back who saw the swift play, and to their eyes it bore the seeming +of self-defense. In the same instant, the kinsman at Red Newton's +shoulder fired on the attorney so suddenly that it looked as if he too +were aiming at Falerin's head, instead of just to its side. + +Later in the afternoon, Black Pete, whose name had been mentioned to the +commonwealth attorney by several of the Falerins, walked voluntarily +into the office of that functionary. His demeanor was quiet and deeply +grieved. Moreover, it was characterized by a show of frankness that was +disarming. He said he would be glad to submit to a search--that he never +went armed. He feared that in an indirect way, though entirely without +his intent, he had been instrumental in bringing on the afternoon's +deplorable tragedy. The commonwealth's attorney was astounded at this +unsolicited statement, verging so closely on a confession, and felt +impelled to warn the Deacon that he might yet find himself a defendant, +and that whatever he said would be used against him. Had the Deacon been +addicted to smiling he would have smiled then. As it was, he only nodded +his head gravely, half sadly, as he stood there, his hands in his +pockets, and his steady gray eyes unwaveringly holding those of his +inquisitor. + +"I reckon that's right, an' I'm obliged to you," he answered +respectfully, "but I find as I go 'long that a man gets just as far by +tellin' the full truth." + +"Just as you like. What part did you have in this affair?" demanded the +state prosecutor--a little too eagerly. + +"Maybe you'd better let me tell it my own way," suggested Black Pete +imperturbably. "I haven't got much education and I may ramble a little, +but I'll do my best. You know all about the feud, I reckon? I went West +years ago, and out there I got to see that these things are foolish. A +sort of truce was patched up finally, and it was agreed that I must stay +West, and Jake Falerin must leave the mountains, too. I got a little +money saved up, and sent word that I was comin' home to settle up a +mortgage on my sister's farm, and attend to some other family business. +I didn't aim to stay, and I haven't been any closer to the mountains +than right here. I wasn't goin' any closer till everybody agreed to it. +I didn't think these fellers would fight right here in Winchester." + +The Deacon stood with the regretful air of one who has been disappointed +in his confidence as to the worthiness of others. At last, he continued +in a conscience-stricken tone: + +"I've been studyin' about it considerable since it happened. I'm afraid +the Falerins saw me, and figured I'd broke the truce by comin' back, +and, when Jake met Red in the crowd, they both got panicky, and begun to +shoot." + +That was all the Deacon had to state except his promise to remain in +Winchester, subject to the call of the commonwealth. He knew that no +one, save a handful whom he could trust, could implicate him in the +conspiracy, which he had devised and engineered. His claws and fangs +were well-tucked under his sheep's hide of innocence. While he was in +the law-office, the jailer arrived with news that Red Newton and his +other prisoner had asked to see Black Pete Spooner, with a view to +employing counsel for their defense. The Deacon turned to the +commonwealth's attorney. + +"What do you think?" he said. "I reckon these boys have that privilege, +haven't they? I want to be fair all round. If they did shoot in +self-defense, I want them to have their rights, but I'll be here if you +need me." + +So, late in the afternoon, in the privacy of the cell which the two +mountaineers complacently shared, the Deacon heard from Red how the boy, +Newt, fresh from the penitentiary, was already on the trail of a +"marked-down" victim. It was news that disconcerted the master assassin +to a degree which he would not have cared to admit. These men depended +upon making a case of self-defense, and looked to him to see them +through. The gravest element that confronted them was the violent +dislike of the bluegrass, where they must face trial, for the murderous +tendencies of the mountains. If there should occur on the heels of the +first tragedy a second, traceable to a mountain man, the fat would be in +the fire. At all costs, young Newt must for the present hold his hand. +Above all else, that was imperative. Black Pete questioned the prisoner +searchingly and learned that Newt had gone out Main Street, and Red had +followed him for some distance. Therefore, that was the road young Newt +would watch, and the road upon which young Newt must be watched. Cawsler +later reported the manner in which the boy had come demanding arms, and +the Deacon bitterly regretted having surrendered to him his own pistol. + +And Newt had disappeared. Of each Spooner he met, the Deacon demanded +news of his whereabouts. Finally, near the court-house, he met a man who +had seen the sought-for one sauntering slowly out the road near the edge +of town. Since it was only a few minutes before, he could not have gone +far. + +The Deacon hurried forward, and from a party of incoming negroes he +learned of the dance, which explained the procession of buggies and gave +him a clew. Probably, Newt had learned that his intended victim would be +there. At least, it would be worth investigating. But of Newt himself he +saw nothing, for when he reached the spot where the boy had climbed the +fence to kill time behind the hedge, he unwittingly passed him by. At +the beginning of the stone fence, where he caught first the music and +the light of the festivities, his eye took in the growth of locusts and +his mountain mind reckoned by swift processes. Here was such natural +cover as a man would be likely to seek in working his way +surreptitiously rearward. He had begun to fear he might be too late, in +which event his coming at all would be more fatal than staying away. +That haste prevented his using the most exhaustive caution, and so he +did not explore to the far side of the woodland, but crossed the fence +at the nearest corner and went swiftly back, skulking in the shadow. In +point of fact, instead of being later than the boy, he arrived first, +but on the opposite side of the broad lawn. When he had gone back as far +as the house level, his painstaking search commenced. He was not only +endeavoring to remain concealed, important as that was, but also to +penetrate the shadows and find the other hidden man. It was a thing that +would have been sheer impossibility but for his splendid wood-craft and +the catlike focus of his eyes in the night. So, when he had exhausted +the possibilities on that side of the house to his full satisfaction, he +recognized his mistake, and knew that he had wasted precious time. He +should be on the far side, and, taking a long detour which carried him +far to the rear of the barns and led him behind the fence line of the +paddock lots, he worked his way up again to the front until he reached +the edge of the lilac bushes, and could see the summer-house. To that +spot he began crawling noiselessly, and, led by a sure instinct, and +while still some fifty yards away, his trained eye caught a stealthy +shadow also hitching forward at his front. There still lay between him +and Newt Spooner the matter of some thirty yards, and, even if he rose +to his feet and ran for it, he would overtake the boy so close to the +vine-covered retreat that any sound of interference would result in the +discovery of both. He did not personally know that the summer-house was +occupied, but he argued it from the movements of the other skulker. Newt +was so engrossed in his hate that at this particular moment he had eyes +and ears only for the front. Between the lilac thicket where Black Pete +crouched and the vine shadows where Newt knelt, lay an open space of +flooding radiance, but it was directly behind the summer-house, and, +unless Newt saw him crossing it, no one was apt to see. The Deacon rose +to his feet and ran for it. + +As Newt thrust the revolver behind him to cock it, Black Pete's hand +closed silently around his, and Black Pete's thumb was jammed between +the back-drawn hammer and the firing-pin. + +[Illustration: Black Pete's thumb was jammed between the back-drawn +hammer and the firing pin] + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Henry Falkins and Lucinda Merton had not kept close count on the flying +moments since they had entered the summer-house. The girl had promised +to sit out two consecutive dances with him, since to-morrow morning he +must go back to the mountains. So, having only a little while and much +to say, he had plunged in, and, though his voice was low, his words came +tumultuously. Of course, she knew that he was in love with her, but +until to-night it had been a thing which had been given no concrete +declaration. Except for a glow of confession in her eyes, she had said +nothing of loving him. Yet now, when he wished to claim every moment for +himself, she had asked him to tell her about his hills and their people, +of whom she and her world knew so little. + +"I want you to understand the life and conditions there," he told her, +"and yet I don't want to talk of that to-night. I would like to paint +for you true pictures of my mountains just as they look under this moon, +as they will look when to-morrow's sun comes up over the peaks and +begins to drive away the lingering mists; of the elder bushes and +rhododendron and wild roses that bloom on the tangled slopes; but +to-night I want to talk only of you and me." + +He paused, and her voice carried a responsive thrill as she said: + +"I should love your mountains! It must all be very beautiful--but so +different from this." Her eyes traveled out with native pride over the +smooth opulence of the country, which had seemed the Promised Land to +the eyes of its pioneer discoverers. + +"Yes," he admitted; "it is very different. We have rugged fields and +rugged people. Down here you spring from Cavalier stock. But to-night +there are in the world only ourselves. Let's talk of our private +universe." His voice was feverishly eager. "Until I can in some way +improve my fortunes, God knows I ought to be silent as to love." He +leaned forward and added desperately: "But I can't be silent. After all, +what is the use? You know I love you. If I never spoke a syllable of it, +you would still know it. You can feel it in the tremor of my hand when I +take yours in greeting. And if I lock my lips, my eyes give them the +lie. You know I love you, but you will never know how much." + +He leaned forward and his breath came fast while his heart pounded with +the great anxiety of putting his fortunes to the touch. He had knowledge +of other lovers who had come and gone; gone very reluctantly, from the +quest of her heart. + +He had known her a year, and friendship had grown into that intimacy +which tacitly admits something deeper than the casual. In her house he +had been accepted almost as a member of the family--but that need not +mean that he was accepted as a lover. In his mountains such an +association would have been tantamount to an engagement, but here in the +bluegrass it was different. + +There had been sometimes a quality in her smile which he had never seen +on her lips or in her eyes for other men, and she must know of his love. +Still, he had heretofore been content to hope without certainty--and now +the moment had come when, if he had builded on false dreams, he must +wake to a reality of which he could think only with terror. + +For his own crude land, he was a rich man, whose status was the status +of a baron; but, down here in the counties of aristocracy and wealth, he +was poor and a mountaineer. + +"I suppose," he went on, with a voice that came from a taut throat, +which he forced into measured syllables, "I suppose that until I can +offer you a home like this, I should not ask you to confess a love for +me, even if you could feel it. I can't even ask you to marry me yet, and +still because you must know it, because you have a heart that must tell +you, it seems to me that it is only hypocritical to lock my lips. My +heart is too full to be damned up. It must have utterance. It must say, +'I love you.' I can't go on any longer being just a favored friend." He +paused a moment and wiped the moisture of his anxiety from his brow, and +his voice was tensely even in its control. "It means too much now, for +that. If I am living in a fool's paradise I must know it before it is +too late. They say we men of the Cumberlands have somber natures that +take things seriously. To hope too long--and then fail--" He broke off +again and added quietly--"that would be a thing that would utterly ruin +me. I love you." + +The girl did not at once speak. He saw that her face was downcast and +that her breast rose and fell, in an emotion which might be pity. +Perhaps she, too, found speech difficult because she was merciful. A man +and a girl were coming toward the summer-house, and Henry Falkins +watched them with a fascination of fear lest they interrupt. The seconds +seemed to stretch into an interminable suspense. Slowly he put out his +hand, and took hers. Her fingers trembled in his grasp and slowly he +bent and kissed her lowered head. + +"I am waiting," he whispered; but something in the voice said more and +told her of the torture of his doubt. + +At last, very slowly, her face came up and her eyes met his. They were +misty eyes, but smiling, and as he bent with a wild leaping of his +pulses and took her in his arms, her lips, too, met his, responsive to +his kisses. + +Finally he rose, and now it was his own hands that trembled and his own +senses that swam with the intoxication of a happiness which seemed to +him miraculous. + +"I suppose," laughed the girl, "I ought to be ashamed to surrender so +quickly--but I'm not. I'm very proud." + +For a moment after that they sat silent and across the moonlight came +the band music and the softened laughter of the dancers. And it was at +that moment that Newt Spooner, so close that they could almost have +heard his breathing, was reaching into his pocket for his borrowed +revolver. The pause was brief, for the girl, looking into her lover's +eyes, became suddenly beset by a new thought--perhaps some subtle +premonition--and in its wake came panic. She laid her hands on his +shoulders and bent so close that he could feel the play of her breath on +his forehead. + +"But you are going back there," she exclaimed; "back to the mountains, +and I'm afraid. Are you in any danger, because, if you are, you sha'n't +go! I won't let you go. Why, only to-day, there in Winchester, think +what happened!" + +The man laughed. + +"I sha'n't be hurt," he assured her. "Your love will be my talisman." + +"If my love has such power," she exclaimed, "you will go on living to +the end of time." + +He took her two hands in his. + +"Let's have no thought of danger to-night," he said. "To-night belongs +to love, dearest: to love and to us." + +And that was the exact moment at which Black Pete Spooner closed his +hand over the pistol, thrusting his thumb between hammer and pin, and +his forefinger between trigger and guard. + +So suddenly interrupted at the threshold of his attainment, a man from +the lowlands would have betrayed himself with oath or exclamation, or at +least have struggled noisily in the grip that thwarted him. Newt +Spooner was a mountaineer. Ambuscading caution was to him as instinctive +as to the fox or weasel. He felt his hand drawn down at his back so +forcibly that, crouching with his weight on one knee and one foot, he +could not rise--yet he remained utterly noiseless. He carefully turned +his head, and at the distance of a few inches recognized, even in the +darkness, the drooping mustache and square jaw of the Deacon. The Deacon +was holding a finger of the disengaged hand to his lips in an imperative +command for silence. Black Pete was always a diplomat. He regarded this +moment as one of rather desperate crisis, calling for extreme finesse. + +No word of explanation could be spoken; the slightest sound of scuffling +would give the alarm fatal to both. He knew that the implacable hatred +of this single-idead boy was not a thing to yield readily. So he +continued to put into his manner and touch something of subtle and +friendly reassurance, lest Newt flare into reckless and needless +antagonism. And Newt felt at the moment a wave of relief in recognizing +one of his own people. + +The strategist gently shook the hand which held the weapon in hint that +Newt should surrender it, while he nodded and laid the other hand +conciliatingly on the boy's shoulder. But Newt, although he made no +sound or motion, held tightly to the pistol, and so for a moment while +Henry Falkins was boasting of his safety with the confidence of youth +and love, his intended assassin crouched not six feet away while the +man who sought to prevent his act bent over him, holding his hand, and +the wills of the two wrestled in utter silence. + +There is in all leaders, good or bad, a psychological, almost hypnotic +element of power which can, at need, act without words. Black Pete was +recognized so thoroughly as a man of leadership that the enemy talked +peace only on the basis of his exile. Newt Spooner had always regarded +him with awe as the leader of his clan. Moreover, the Deacon's attitude +just now was rather that of a friend who carried a warning than that of +an enemy. The hypnotism of his masterful quiet was telling on the +infuriated boy and yet there flared anew in his breast a dangerous +resentment against the balking of his purpose. How it might have ended +is problematical, but as they held their strained pose, and as Henry +Falkins talked on in false security, a second couple came strolling to +the summer-house. Finding it occupied, they banteringly apologized for +intrusion, while Miss Merton and her escort blushingly declared +themselves on the point of departure, and went back to the dance. So the +chance was gone. Slowly, Newt surrendered his pistol, and the Deacon +silently rose to his feet and pointed off through the bushes. The boy +strode sullenly on ahead and neither he nor his captor made a sound or +spoke a word until they had progressed so far into the shadow that they +were safe from overhearing. Then and then only Newt wheeled. His voice +was almost a sob in its bitter and vibrant passion, as, with blazing +eyes and snarling teeth, he demanded: + +"What in hell did ye do thet fur? Damn ye, he b'longs ter me. Ye didn't +hev no call ter interfere." He threw himself prone on the ground, +clawing into it with his lean fingers as a frenzied animal might claw, +and his thin body racked itself with silent sobs of anger and +frustration. It ended in a fit of coughing which he could not control, +and which he smothered in his two hands until the paroxysm passed. + +The Deacon sought to soothe him. Most mountaineers speak with a nasal +harshness, but this man had the exceptional quality that gave to his +words an ingratiating and velvety smoothness. + +"Don't worry, son. I wouldn't have interfered, only I was obliged to. +He's your enemy, and he did you wrong, but this ain't the moment to kill +him. Go back home and bide your time. If you need help, call on me after +a little." + +"Hits as fitten a time es any," blurted Newt tensely. "They hain't no +manner of use puttin' hit off. I tells ye I'm ergwine ter git him. Hit +hain't ergwine ter do no good to argify with me. Nothin' hain't ergwine +ter change me none." + +"Son," insisted the other calmly, "I ain't aimin' to change you. I've +never let men change me, have I? But there's a time for everything, an' +just now you must hearken to me." He sketched briefly and forcibly his +interviews in the office of the commonwealth attorney and at the jail. +He enlarged on the fatality of having another shooting by a mountaineer +tread so close on the heels of the first tragedy. + +"You ain't aimin' to put these boys' necks into ropes, son," he +suggested chidingly at the end. "You can get your man without makin' +your own kin pay such a steep price. All I ask of you is to pass me your +word that you won't do anything until you get back to the hills. Seems +to me that's fair enough." + +Newt sat silent for a time, scowling blackly, but at last he rose and +nodded. + +"I gives ye my hand on thet--because I don't see no way ter holp +myself," he capitulated. It is the mountain's formula of oath, and +though the men who use it rarely shake hands, its utterance is a +recognized bond. + +"Come along to town with me," suggested the Deacon. "You can sleep at my +boardin' place, and in the morning you can start out." + +But to that proposition Newt shook his head. + +"I aims ter start right now, es soon es I kin buy a snack ter put in my +pocket," he announced decisively. "Which road goes towards Jackson?" +When at last he did lie down for sleep that night, it was under the lee +of a last year's straw stack and surrounded by the rustling spears of +this year's corn, where he could look up at the stars and call defiantly +upon them all to bear witness that he had no intention of being deterred +by the interference of any man. + +It had been a very exhausting day, strenuous with much footsore +tramping; strenuous, too, with the buffeting of emotions as sudden and +violent as the tempests which sometimes swept across his hills; bending +the forests, lashing the sandstone ramparts, shrieking through valleys +and cannonading along the slopes. And like the hills when such a storm +has wreaked its noisy wrath and swollen all the thread-like streams to +freshets, he lay by his straw stack supine and shaken. It seemed to him +that he had only just stretched himself out on the straw when he opened +his eyes to see the east pallidly kindling with the preface of dawn, yet +it had been long enough for his limbs to have cramped and chilled under +the moisture of the night. He rose and ate a small supply of his +provender, and took a swig from the flask, wiping the mouth of the +bottle with his palm, after the custom of his country. After that he +started on with the gray dawn growing rosy at his front. At length, he +halted and drew a long breath of relief and satisfaction, for already he +was beginning to recognize, in the changing character of the country, +harbingers of home. The smooth swell of the bluegrass began to break +into a choppier formation and assume raggedness, while far away the +sky-line was broken by a climbing back-bone of foothills. + +Unless he could mend his rate of travel he had still ahead several days +of journeying, but early in the afternoon, when he sat down to rest, it +was by a woodland stream where the underbrush grew in a tangle and the +wild roses were blooming among scrub oaks. Cornucopias of the +trumpet-flower flared vividly, and here and there he caught a glimpse +of a chinked log-cabin. That night he slept at Clay City, where the +channel of Red River was almost choked with logs; logs floated down from +higher up. Once more he slept in a "feather-bed," for a distant relative +had taken him in, willing to "eat an' sleep him" for no greater +remuneration than the news of what had happened in Winchester; willing +even to produce from some hidden place a jug from which moonshine liquor +ran white and colorless. + +The next day brought such a dawn as he had not seen since he had left +Jackson with cuffed wrists, a dawn in which the sun did not blaze forth +at once unobscured, but came up to dissipate the mists and flare redly +through their vanishing, before he stood forth master of the day. And +even then the skies were full of sullen hinting at rain. Nature seemed +to brood in accord with his own dreariness of mind; and wisps of cloud +trailed down the summits, as he nodded with a curt, "I'm obleeged ter +ye," and pushed onward, boring into hills that grew ever taller and +wilder. + +At last, he came to Jackson, the shack town that is the county seat of +Breathitt, which the world knows as "bloody." But even the twisting and +steep streets beyond the bridge offered this traveler no security for +tarrying. Jackson knew that in Winchester Jake Falerin had fallen, and +that Black Pete was back from the West, and Jackson was a Falerin +strong-hold. The outlook was for stormy days, and it would be as well +for the boy to push at once to his own section, some twenty miles away, +where along the waters of Troublesome and Lost Creeks he would be among +his own people. In front of the court-house and along the main street he +saw groups of men, some of them Falkinses and some Spooners, and though +there was no open hostility, they separated studiously into their own +respective groups and their movements were characterized by an alertness +which told of mutual and restive suspicion. + +Newt Spooner was not afraid, but just now he was not wasting his +activities. Moreover, he was still half-sick and not courting quarrels +save those of his own choosing. As he strolled through the streets of +the town, no one seemed to notice him. He had been forgotten. He paused +before the court-house with the small "jail-house" squatting in the yard +and surveyed both with wormwood bitterness of unforgiving memory. + +Across the street where brick banks and modern plate-glass store fronts +stood jammed between frontier-like shacks, he halted once more. Court +was adjourning for the noon recess, and a homicide jury came out of the +dingy doors, marching in columns of twos, while behind, shirt-sleeved +and collarless, stalked the sheriff, herding the panel to its mid-day +meal and bearing a long hickory staff. They were rude and bearded men, +for the most part spare and sinewy, but the elder among them tramped +with a shambling gait that told of unrelieved drudgery. + +Newt made his way to the north end of the town, and took the road +across the hills. By nightfall he would be in his own territory. + +Now he was once more treading familiar trails, and though he was tired +and the way became steeper, he walked with a resilient stride. The roads +along the valley gulches were only creek-beds, and where they looped +over the tops of ridges they were uneven stairways of broken rock. +Sometimes for a little space they ran level along high banks where the +sand was like that of a beach. But Newt had taken off his shoes and as +he splashed along the water courses, where straining "jolt-wagons" had +cut smooth ruts almost hub-deep into the shaly beds, the grateful water +stimulated him. About him were great forests almost virgin to the ax. +Spruce pines and walnuts and poplars towered over him, and the road +dipped often through a gloom like that of a dim chapel. Down there +little cascades whispered, and out of fern banks rose huge brown and +gray and green bowlders of sandstone, like altars of the Druids. The +rhododendron, which his people called "laurel," and the laurel, which +they called "ivy," cloaked the open slopes. It was a country where a +good walker can travel faster afoot than mounted. He drank from wayside +springs and from the flask which his kinsman had refilled. His mind +turned to its magnet, and he planned anew the death of Henry Falkins, +but now that he was at home he planned with confidence of success and in +this conviction he found a certain contentment. It was something to be +where he belonged and something to walk free of the chaingang. Around +him the hills closed in comforting tiers of ramparts. From the high +points of the road, he could look off over valleys to other peaks and +see here and there the roof of a cabin with its small patch of corn and +its rude out-houses. He passed tilting fields where red and blue calico +dresses flashed as entire families worked with hoes, and roadside +habitations of logs where raggedy children fled inside to gaze timidly +around the corners of door-jambs. Razor-backed hogs and flocks of geese +wandered near every habitation, and mules flapped their long ears as +they looked out from primitive stables, fashioned by closing in with +fence shelters under overhanging shelves of rock. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +When the pitchiness of night closed in until it seemed that the +mountains moved up and huddled closer together, Newt was on +well-remembered roads and did not pause. In an hour or two the moon +would be up, and he would reach the cabin which he called home. + +With the coming of the moon the hills underwent a wizardry of beauty +which was lost on the boy. First, silvery threads of light began to +weave along the bristling ridges of the east and opalescent flecks to +glimmer overhead. Then a soft blue-gray light filtered down the slopes; +throwing the shoulders of the mountains into relief and bathing the +lowlands in a luminous mist. The waters of Troublesome caught the glint +and the frogs boomed out from bass to treble, while back in the timbered +slopes the whippoorwills set up a plaintive chorus. + +Ahead of him Newt saw his destination. A cabin of logs stood darkly at +the side of the road, marking his journey's end. Though the moon struck +across the small hard-tramped yard, the house threw its shadow forward +and was itself a block of darkness from which shone no light. That was +because there was no light to shine, except what came from the +fireplace, and because there was no window through which it might show. +But Newt needed no illumination. He knew every wretched detail by heart. +There was one room only, except for the lean-to shed, which served as +kitchen and dining-room, and that was reached by going outside and +walking around the corner of the house. The one room was pictured on his +mind almost as clearly as he trudged toward its door-step as it could be +when he entered it. Through the slabs of the puncheon floor the wind +came in gusty weather. In each of the four corners was a large double +bed with feather mattresses, for the family, when he had left home, had +numbered six. About the log walls on pegs driven into the chinking would +be hanging such articles of clothing as were not in use, except such +other articles as were thrust in disorder under the beds. Unless the +family had "lain down" they would be huddling about the hearth with +their shoes off, for even in June when the night chill came it was +customary to kindle an evening fire. Always in the past, his great +grandfather, old Luke Spooner, had sat at the right-hand corner of that +hearth, mumbling into his long white beard. Newt wondered if he would +still be there. He had been almost a centenarian when they took the +grandson away to the penitentiary; his sight almost gone, his hearing +almost gone, his brain wasted to a remnant of nightmare brooding, but +his physical vitality holding out like a spent and stubborn fortress. +Once he had been among the most feared of feudists, tireless, unafraid, +vindictive and honest. He would hardly be there now, reflected Newt. He +must have died by this time. One member of his family only would he +greet with any feeling akin to welcome. His father had in his rough way +been fond of him, and Newt in an equally wolfish fashion had +reciprocated the feeling. It had never been expressed in words or +demonstration, for of these things the mountaineer is as chary as a +grizzly. Often in the long warfare of quarreling and bickering between +his father and mother, which Newt regarded as a natural and universal +incident of family life, his "pappy" had taken his side and rescued him +from a "whopping." + +Newt thought he would be glad to see his father. + +He crossed the stile, hewn in rough steps from a poplar stump, and +strode over to the broken mill-stone that served as a door-step. He +shouted, "I'm a-comin' in," and pushed at the door. It was barred. That +was a sign of the troublesome condition of the times. The mountaineer +shouts an announcement of his coming from a distance to avoid the +seeming of surreptitiousness, but, having reached the threshold, does +not knock. + +"Who's thet?" called a high-pitched, irritable voice from the interior. +It was his mother's voice, and Newt replied: + +"Hit's me, Mammy. Let me in." + +No outburst or murmur of surprise broke from the cabin at the +announcement of the prodigal's return. He heard only the rasping of a +bar being drawn from its sockets, and then the door swung in. Newt +entered, and with no offer to embrace his mother cast an appraising +glance about the place, which the logs on the hearth revealed in a +wavering light. The corners of the room were darkly shadowed, but the +semicircle about the fireplace was red and yellow from the flames. The +rafters were smoke-blackened, and an odor hung between the walls like +that in a house used for curing hams. + +About the fire sat the family group, but none of them rose to welcome +him. At the right hand corner sat old Luke. He was not dead then, after +all, though just now he was sleeping with his bearded, mummy-like face +fallen forward and his long hickory staff resting between his knees. +Newt's younger brother, "Little Luke," grown since he had left home from +a boy of thirteen to a gawky and angular young cub of sixteen, and his +sister, who had been twelve and was now fifteen, stared at him in shy +silence. His mother who was only a little more than forty had all the +seeming of sixty. She was bent and slovenly. But of his father he saw +nothing, though a man sat in the remaining chair, and when this +interloper leaned forward, holding down his beard with his forefinger as +he spat at the ashes, Newt recognized Clem Rawlins, a distant kinsman. +Clem's presence surprised him little, for it would have been quite +natural for Clem or any other man who found himself benighted to stop +and "stay all night." + +His mother came forward, and invited: + +"Take my cheer, Newt. I'll set on the bed." + +Newt dropped into the seat, and inquired: + +"Where's pappy?" + +"Daid," was his mother's laconic reply. + +"When did he die?" + +Clem Rawlins answered in a deep, drawling voice: + +"He failed tol'able fast-like after ye left, Newt. He had the weak +treemers, an' died erbout cawn-plantin' time a-follerin' of yore goin' +down below." + +The boy said nothing. He sat mutely scowling into the fire. + +A constrained silence fell on the gathering, which was at last broken by +the boy's mother in a tone of dubious embarrassment. + +"With yore old gran-pap on my hands, Newt, an' yore pap daid an' Little +Luk kind of puny-like, I couldn't hardly git along withouten some man on +the place an' so--" She paused again, then added with a note +half-apology, half-defiance: "An' so I married Clem. I was plumb driv +ter hit." + +She knew that the boy had never liked his kinsman, Clem Rawlins, but now +Newt sat with his brow drawn and his gaze fixed on the embers, making no +response. Clem waited stolidly, puffing at his pipe, though he, too, +would be glad when the moment of explanation was ended. At last, the boy +dismissed the topic with the curt comment: + +"I reckon thet's yore business." + +After a while, he rose and went to the corner of the room where once his +few belongings had been kept. He evidently failed to find that for which +he sought, for he came back to the fire and demanded: + +"Whar's my rifle-gun?" + +His mother was still sitting on the edge of the bed. She had filled her +clay pipe and lighted it with a coal from the fire. Once more her voice +carried the note of anxious embarrassment, and she tried to give it also +an ingratiating quality, as she replied. + +"Well, ye see, Newty, atter yore pappy died we had a heap of trouble. +'Peared like the good Lord hed done plumb forgot us in his +provi-_dence_. The hail kilt all the cawn, an' the hawgs died off like +es ef they was blighted, an' so--" She paused, and the boy finished for +her in a voice very metallic, though not reproachful. + +"So ye went an' sold my rifle-gun. Is thet what ye war a-tryin' ter +say?" + +"Thet's hit," she acknowledged. Then in exculpation she went on: "Ye +see, Newt, I wouldn't 'a' done hit, only I didn't reckon ye'd want hit +no more. We didn't hardly 'low ye'd ever come back hyar noways." + +Newt Spooner rose from his chair and stood facing them. His fists were +tight-clenched at his sides. The spurting blaze of the slowly dying fire +sent his shadow wavering out across the semicircle of light. + +"You-all didn't 'low I'd need my rifle-gun no more," he repeated slowly, +with forced restraint. "Ye didn't hardly reckon I'd ever come back +hyar-abouts. Ye 'lowed I wuz buried alive in thet damned penitentiary +whar ye let me go without a-holpin' me none. Ye 'lowed I'd jest stay +thar an' rot." He paused and his breath came heavily. Then his utterance +quickened. "Well, ye 'lowed plumb wrong. I'm hyar an' thar's a thing I'm +hyar ter do, an' hit's a thing thet calls fer a gun. Ye done married +this-hyar man. Thet's yore business an' his'n. 'Pears like ter me ye +mout 'a' done a sight better, but I hain't got no call ter say nothin' +erbout thet." + +With a vague idea of placating both sides of what might become a family +rupture, the woman suggested in a milder tone than usual: + +"I mout 'a' done a sight wusser, too, Newt." + +The boy sniffed. + +"I don't hardly see how," he retorted. "Now I've done been robbed of my +gun. What's become of my pappy's gun?" + +His mother hesitated, then confessed: + +"I done give it ter Clem." + +The son nodded his head. + +"Thet's what I 'lowed. Now thet gun b'longs ter me. I've done lawfully +heired hit from my pap." He turned suddenly to Clem Rawlins, and his +voice rang out in sharp and peremptory outburst. + +"Go git hit!" + +Rawlins rose in quick obedience, and went to his own corner whence he +fetched the repeating rifle that had been the elder Spooner's. + +Newt stood before the fireplace, testing and loading the magazine, while +his mother looked on in anxious scrutiny. + +Then the centenarian across the hearth roused up, lifting his ancient +and withered face, in which the jaw muscles worked loosely and flabbily. + +"Who air thet feller?" he demanded in a quavering, accusing voice, +gazing up without recognition at the tall, spare figure which towered +over him. + +"Thet's little Newt," shouted the mother, bending her lips close to his +ear. The old man sat foolishly blinking for a time as his wandering +thoughts came back to a focus. + +Finally, he brandished his long staff and stormed weakly. + +"Ye hadn't oughter suffered yeself ter be penitentiaried. In my day no +Spooner wouldn't 'a' done hit. Ye air the fust one thet's ever wore +stripes...." + +"I wouldn't of gone thar nuther, ef my own kin hed a-stood by me," +blazed the boy with an evil glitter in his eye. + +"Don't pay him no mind, Newt," hastily admonished his mother; "he hain't +noways responsible. He's plumb fitty." + +"Why the hell don't he die?" demanded the youth, gazing down +contemptuously on the withered and decaying figure. + +"I'm kinder tuckered out," he added a moment later. "I reckon I'll lay +down." + +Such was Newt Spooner's home-coming. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +On the morning after the convict's return, in the hour when the mists +still hung in wraith-like fogs over the slopes, Newt and the other men +of the household gathered around the kitchen table while his mother and +sister, maintaining their position of mere women, served them standing. +They ate in sordid silence, stooping low over their plates and +neglecting their forks. + +The food was perhaps less good than that which the penitentiary +furnished its inmates. The bodies of dead bees floated in the wild honey +and to a palate accustomed to more delicate provender the reeking grease +in which everything floated would have induced nausea, but it was the +food upon which the former convict had been reared, and he greedily +bolted it. As soon as he had finished his breakfast he rose, and, +picking up his rifle, sauntered toward the door. This he did with a +belligerent air, for he knew the simple laws of native life. The land +and cabin had belonged to his father, and the boy felt that he needed no +invitation to return and take up his residence there. None the less, if +he was to stay, he would be expected to assume his just share in the +burdens of daily work. For the present, however, he meant to take a +vacation; to tramp the hillsides and see how far he had lost his knack +with the rifle. So, he filled his pocket with cartridges, and strolled +out of the door, kicking from his way several trespassing chickens that +were exploring the interior of the room. As he passed the barn, Clem and +"Little Luke" were feeding the mule and the hogs. Newt paused for a +moment and watched them, making no offer to assist, and they for their +part made no request that he lend a hand. + +"Goin' huntin', Newt?" queried the step-father, pausing with a +shuck-basket of feed in his hands. + +"Mebby so," growled the home-comer. + +Clem regarded his uncommunicative law-kin with an expressionless stare +for a while, and then said slowly: + +"Hit hain't none of my concern, I reckon, but I seen yore pockets was +strutty, an' I 'lowed ye mout be goin' tol'able fur." + +"Mebby so," repeated Newt. + +The pockets to which Clem alluded bulged with ammunition and a flask. +The phrase he used was slang in Scotland in the days when Queen Mary +reigned. It is common parlance to-day where these beleaguered +Anglo-Saxons retain the idioms of their ancestors, and live the life of +another century in mountains which were old before the Andes, the Alps, +the Rockies or the Himalayas were thrown above the level of the sea. The +Elizabethan gallant who was "strutty" threw out a swelling chest, hence, +that which bulges is strutty. + +The household did not see Newt again until the sun was well into the +west, but at intervals they heard the sharp bark of his rifle growing +fainter as he penetrated farther into the hills. + +For Newt had taken himself away into the thickness of the timber and +laurel for target practice. He went about it as systematically as though +he were a battleship at maneuvers. As he swung his way noiselessly along +forest paths, he would stop suddenly and throw the piece to his +shoulder, sighting on some knot or leaf picked out at random. On these +occasions he wasted no powder and lead. He was simply testing his +quickness of eye and steadiness of hand, and he smiled with grim +pleasure at the result. But at last a target showed high up on a walnut +trunk. There the figure of a giant woodpecker hung, drumming loudly, and +inviting a trial shot, by the very conspicuousness of its red, black and +white plumage. Newt leveled the rifle and fired, and the big bird came +tumultuously floundering to the ground. + +The boy smiled unpleasantly: + +"I reckon," he mused, "hit hain't only woodpeckers I kin hit." + +As the day wore on, he practised more intricate feats. Gathering a +handful of hickory leaves, he fastened them about the gigantic girth of +a tulip poplar which towered nobly in a level place. Then, going back a +distance of fifty yards, he began running rapidly around the tree. At +every few yards of his course he would halt abruptly, wheel and fire at +one of the leaves. As he went up, panting, to inspect results, he smiled +again in grim satisfaction. + +Along the creek-bed roads and over the mountain-scaling trails that day, +a girl was taking a twenty mile walk from the clean dormitory of the +college to the vermin-infested murk of a cabin on Troublesome. She +carried a small bundle, but the long march was a thing that did not seem +to trouble her. + +Sometimes she came to places where the road ran down into the waters of +shallow fords, and then she stopped and took off her shoes and stockings +and waded to the other bank. + +On either side of her rose the rustling forests, tuneful with the song +of birds. The laurel blossoms waved pink centers and the rhododendron +nodded at her. + +Here and there a squirrel barked or a cock-quail sounded his "bob-white" +to his nesting mate. And as Minerva tramped on with that resilient, +tireless stride which was one of the few blessings of her hard heritage, +the cloud on her brow was dispelled and after a while her voice rose to +the crooning of an ancient "ballet," and she remembered only that she +was young and strong and that it was June. Perhaps she dreamed a little +of a make-believe world in which the men were not brutal and bestial, +but, like the Henry Falkins of her imagination, individuals who had +heard of chivalry and who even in this age preserved something of its +spirit and its spark. + +Yet every now and then the picture of the cabin rose before her +imagination, and the smile died from her eyes, and her lips became +straight-set and taut. She saw the old imbecile in the chimney corner +and the shrewish step-mother, and the badgering step-sister, and even +in the father who had brought her here, she knew that she had no +effective ally. Clem Rawlins had his work cut out for him in protecting +himself in these matters, and he sought the path of least resistance by +taking refuge in surly silence until he was goaded to the point where +his temper broke into violent outburst. + +At last, the walk ended, ended at the door-step of the cheerless cabin, +and there as Minerva crossed the stile stood her step-mother, on the +threshold with her arms akimbo and a clay pipe clamped between her +teeth. + +"M'nervy," she said in a rasping tone, in which dwelt no note of +welcome, "I've done put yore b'longin's under Sis's bed. Thar hain't no +more pegs ter hang things on an' Newty's done fared back from down +b'low. He's a-goin' ter lay down on ther bed you've been usin'." + +The girl halted before the door. + +"Who's Newty?" she asked. The boy's name had not been often mentioned +since she had come over here, and she had forgotten the ragged lad she +had known years before, when instead of being a murderer he was only a +small shaver with sullen eyes and a tongue which he did not often use. + +"Newty's my oldest boy," enlightened the elder woman briefly. "He's been +a sojournin' in Frankfort." Then in a tone of absolute commonplace she +added: "He's been in ther penitenshery." + +Minerva Rawlins stood silent, but her cheeks blazed wrathfully. So, +beside the horrors of uncongeniality under this roof, she was now to be +turned out of her own bed to make way for an arrival from the state +prison. + +Long ago she had learned to set a seal upon her lips and to endure in +silence what things must be borne, but into her eyes flashed an +insurgent gleam, and the hag-like woman in the doorway caught it and +scowled. + +"I reckon Newty's got a license ter dwell in this-hyar house," she +belligerently asserted. "He was born hyar, an' he didn't come in hyar +taggin' along with no widderer. Newty hain't no step-child." + +The speaker turned and disappeared into the general murk of the +interior, and the girl followed her without comment, but with a suddenly +born hatred for the man who had come from a cell back to the family +which she must call her own. + + * * * * * + +When Newt Spooner crossed the stile that afternoon, breathing deeply the +healing of the mountain air, he paused and scowled. Coming across the +yard from the "Spring-branch" with a bucket of water was the slender +figure of a girl. She was not his sister, but another girl whom he did +not recognize. She seemed to be about eighteen, and she was pretty, with +the transient bloom of mountain young womanhood, often as vivid and as +short-lived as that of the morning glory. But the thing which most +perplexed Newt, as he stood resentfully wondering how many other +invaders he was to encounter at the cabin, was the fact that her calico +dress was neater and her whole appearance more suggestive of civilized +self-respect than that of the other women of the household. + +[Illustration: Coming across the yard from the "Spring-branch" was the +slender figure of a girl] + +She was not barefooted, but wore shoes and stockings, and instead of +being lost in loose sack or slip-shod mother-hubbard, her slight waist +was trimly belted. + +While Newt stared at her, she, too, looked up and saw him. For a moment +she seemed startled at the black-visaged apparition, but after a moment +she coolly returned his glance, and disappeared into the house. + +When the boy later on went to the door, the westering sun sent a long +golden shaft into the primitive interior, down which the dust motes +danced, although the corners remained somberly obscure. In the room were +only the "women-folks"; his mother sitting huddled over her pipe; his +sister lying idly stretched on one of the beds with an ill-natured frown +in her eyes, and the strange girl. The strange girl sat, not near the +cold hearth, where now there was no fire, but in the sun, and the sun +fell upon and sparkled in her brown hair and awakened dull glints like +the luster of polished mahogany. She was holding her lips rather tightly +drawn, as in self-repression, and there was a mistiness about her eyes +that hinted at unshed tears. + +"I reckon," Newt's mother was saying in a spitefully hard voice, as the +boy's figure darkened the door, "ye thinks sence ye went off ter school +and got ter consartin' with them fotched-on teachers, thet ye're +better'n what we be." + +The girl made no reply, but she bent over the sewing in her lap, and her +fingers trembled. Mrs. Rawlins looked up and, with a jerk of her head, +announced for the benefit of her son: + +"This here air Clem's gal, Minervy. I married a widderer." The last +sentence was snapped out in a tone of deep complaining, from which one +might infer that in the train of marrying a widower followed many +melancholy consequences. + +At that the girl raised her face and into it swept a sudden flush of +anger. She looked challengingly at Newt and her eyes told him that, if +she was silent under the shrewish heckling of the woman, she was quite +ready to give him battle. But the boy had no intention of insulting her. +He did not know that already she was finding herself in that most +pathetic of all positions, the status of being just enough educated to +be unplaced at home, and too little educated to be placed elsewhere. She +had been thrown, by her father's second marriage, under the persecutions +of a shrew, a jealous step-sister, and a century-old imbecile. She +looked at Newt and reflected that his arrival added a murderer to the +group. "Clem's gal" was longing for that different and more wholesome +life over there at the college. But Newt had seen the look in her eyes +and recognized that she like himself was here among people who offered +no friendship. It was a rude bond of sympathy, and though she was +"Clem's gal," and, in consequence, of the enemy, he rose to her defense. + +"I reckon," he remarked sullenly, "she hain't no more tee-totally +tickled about yore a-marryin' of a widderer then what you be." + +The girl's eyes were lifted with an amazed expression from the calico +dress upon which she was working, and her face swiftly softened. But +Newt, a stranger to tender emotions, and bent on presenting to every man +and woman a face of defiance, gave no further sign of sympathy. + +He went to the bed which had been assigned to him, and threw himself on +his back, from which position he lay scowling up at the smoked rafters +and resting. + +Presently, his mother began again her querulous bickering. The +conversation was one-sided, and the boy, lying silent in his dark +corner, noted that Minerva merely bent her head as one may bend it +against the buffeting of gusty wind or rain. But he was himself less +long suffering, and so he raised his voice with the dictatorial +authority of a man rebuking a quarreling harem. + +"Mammy," he ordered curtly, "I'm plumb sick an' tired o' heerin' all +this-hyar blamed fursin', an' I wants ye ter shet up. If Clem's gal is a +willin' ter endure all thet jawin', I hain't." + +For an hour there was no sound in the cabin except the low, monotonous +voice of Newt's sister, crooning an ancient "ballet" that once was sung +in Scotland before the Pilgrims landed in the western world. + +About sunset that afternoon, Newt came upon the Rawlins girl milking +near the barn. When she raised her head from the flank of the cow and +saw him standing a short distance away, a sudden stream of color came +flooding to her cheeks and temples. He had not yet heard her speak a +word, but now after stammering a moment she said: + +"Hit was mighty good of ye, Newt, ter take up fer me. I'm much obliged." + +The acknowledgment was somewhat difficult to make. This black sheep of +her acquired family stood for all the things that the knightly Henry +Falkins had deplored in speaking of the lawless spirit of the mountains. +He was the sullen impersonation of the murder-spirit which shoots from +ambush. He had come from prison and it was Mercy, not Justice, that had +opened the iron gates to set him free. She did not know that the +testimony of Falkins had put him there, or that Newt's set purpose was +revenge, but she had shaped her heart to despise him, and he had in a +rough way stood forth her champion. Perhaps, after all, he too had been +a victim of conditions bigger and blacker than his own nature. + +Newt's scowl darkened. He was not accustomed to gratitude and in it +found embarrassment. + +"Huh!" he growled. "Hit warn't nothin'. I jest natcherly hates ter heer +so much damn' naggin'. Why don't ye jaw back at 'em? Air ye sceered?" + +The girl shook her head. "I ain't here much," she said, "an' I reckon +thar's enough squabblin' in this house without me joinin' in." + +"Well, thet's yore business," commented the ex-convict, "but if I was +you I'd stand up to 'em." He turned on his heel and left her. + + * * * * * + +To the house of McAllister Falkins "furriners" from the outside world +came as to an oasis in a desert, or perhaps, more properly speaking, as +to the tent of a great sheik set in the oasis, for the father of young +Henry Falkins was "the grand old man of the mountains." + +His forefathers had come from Virginia with the ideas of the old +chivalric régime. It was the tradition that when the first Falkins set +his face to the unbroken west, he had brought with his pioneer outfit a +retinue of negroes, a string of race-horses and a coop of fighting +cocks. The game birds and the gamer horses had not been game enough to +survive the hardships of the wilderness road, but the main stem of the +Falkins stock had retained its stamina and refused through a century to +degenerate. Collateral branches had one by one lapsed into the +semi-barbarism of a cruelly isolated life. Nephews and cousins bearing +the same name had succumbed to intermarriage and degeneracy, yet the +main stem had grown straight. Old McAllister Falkins was a college man +and a lawyer who did not practise. Though he was the foremost bearer of +the name which stood linked with that of Spooner as giving title to a +feud that had bathed the country in bloodshed for generations, neither +he nor his direct ancestors nor his direct descendant had ever been +drawn into its vortex. In some miraculous fashion he had been able to +stand aside, admired by his tempestuous kinsmen; respected even by the +equally vindictive Spooners. To have raised a hand against "Old Mack" +Falkins would have been to defy both clans. To have raised a hand +against his son would not have occurred to any Spooner other than young +Newt, mad with rage and private hatred. Old McAllister Falkins had +represented his district in Congress, by a vote of both factions, and +his retirement had been voluntary. It was his hope that his son, too, +might become the shepherd of these wild, goat-like sheep, and wield an +influence for peace. Now, both father and son were deeply disquieted at +the menace of a fresh up-flaring. The death of Falerin would fire the +Falkins clansmen, and if that dreaded intriguer, Black Pete, showed his +face in the hills it was difficult to see how calamitous days could be +averted. As yet the Deacon had not appeared save in Winchester, but on +Friday the Clark County court was to hear a motion for bail, made by the +two defendants, and, if it were granted, Saturday would see them back in +Jackson--and then the deluge! Saturday is a day for gathering at the +county seat and for drinking white liquor. The Falkinses would without +doubt be there, too, in force, ready to recognize and resent insult, and +the town would be much like a powder-magazine used as a smoking-room. +McAllister Falkins had advised such of the Falkins leaders as he could +reach to keep the clan out of Jackson, or, if that were impossible, to +hold the dogs of passion and carousal in leash. He meant to be there in +person to aid in the work of pacification. If only Red Newton and the +Deacon did not reappear, like Mohammedan prophets among wild tribesmen, +the dangerous day might yet dawn and spend itself without bloodshed. + +While the two enlightened men of the name were sitting one afternoon on +the porch of their house, discussing these matters, they saw a horseman +riding down the road which looped over the mountain. The traveler sat +his saddle with straight shoulders and his height approached the +gigantic. Before he had reached the palings of the yard fence, the angle +of his black hat and the tilt of his chin proclaimed him the Deacon. + +Old McAllister Falkins rose with a suppressed exclamation of dismay, and +Henry bit off an oath. + +Black Pete Spooner rode along at an easy amble, and outside the fence he +drew rein and sang out in a grave and utterly unembarrassed voice: + +"Gentlemen, may I alight and have speech with you?" + +The two Falkinses rose and walked down to meet the unexpected visitor, +uncertain what attitude to take in the face of such stupendous +effrontery. The dark giant offered his hand, and said: + +"I reckon you gentlemen are a little surprised to see me, and I guess +when you know why I came you'll be still more surprised." + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Gravely restraining their protests until the visitor should have spoken, +yet heavy-hearted with premonition, the elder and younger Falkins led +the way up the flagstone path to the porch. Had the head of the house of +Montagu strolled casually in, his hands still red with murder, for an +afternoon call at the strong-hold of the Capulets, his advent could +hardly have been more unexpected or unwelcome. The Honorable McAllister +Falkins and his son were mountaineers, and to the mountaineer the +voluntary arrival of a guest under the roof-tree is a mandate to +consideration so long as he remains there. + +The Deacon disposed himself in a heavy split-bottomed rocker, and for a +time a survey of the landscape seemed to absorb him. + +The house sat in its yard overlooking the twisting road and the steep +banks of the middle fork of Kentucky River. For that unlettered land it +was a mansion, with its two-story height and painted weather-boarding. +Its glazed, green-shuttered windows gave it a certain dignity. Instead +of puncheon floors, there were carpets and such furniture as one might +have seen in the outer world, mingled strangely with old-fashioned +reminders of pioneer life. At one end of the porch leaned a discarded +spinning wheel, and an arm's length away stood the phonograph with +which the two Falkins men had been soothing their anxieties with the +strains of "Il Trovatore." + +Off to the side of the house stretched an orchard in whose shadowed rim +of lingering locust bloom ranged a trim line of ancient "bee gums." It +was a simple and rambling farmhouse, but in a country of squalid +habitations it partook of a certain grandeur, and one must needs go far +to find a more ruggedly magnificent outlook, over park-like stretches of +patriarchal timber, palisading river-banks and towering mountains, than +that commanded from its verandah. + +For a few moments the Deacon sat in his rocker with as little seeming +realization of his unwelcomeness as though he were an old friend and +constant visitor. He sat upright, his hat lying on the floor at his side +and his hands resting on his large-boned knees. Both the men of the +Falkins house acknowledged anew how unusual and commanding was that +face, and how difficult it was to recognize upon it any hall-mark of +crime or villainy. The dark eyes were steadfastly gentle, and even under +the long drooping mustache the lips held a sort of dreamer's curve. +Finally, the visitor spoke. + +"The more I study about it, the more I'm afraid that Saturday can't +hardly pass by without trouble." + +McAllister Falkins rose from his chair and paced the porch. At last, he +paused before Black Pete Spooner, and began steadily: + +"I don't know why you have come to me." The old gentleman's voice was +self-contained, though his eyes bored accusingly into those of his +visitor. "I certainly shall express no criticism until you have said in +full whatever you came here to say. You must know that I have always +held aloof from feud-bickerings. You must know that I have always +counseled impartially and truly such men as have come to me from both +factions. But above all you must know that, if there is bloodshed in +Jackson on Saturday, no other thing will be so directly responsible for +it as your reappearance in the county. Your presence and Falerin's death +will be the twin causes. If you seek to avoid a holocaust, you are +pursuing a strange course." + +While Falkins talked, the Deacon listened attentively, acknowledging the +force of each remark with a grave nod of his head. At the end of the +speech he sat awhile with his brows judicially drawn, then answered: + +"There's a heap of truth and good sense in all that. I don't expect you +to take my word on any matter, but I'm here to propose doin' things, not +just sayin' things. I think there is one way to keep these boys from +mischief, if you two men and me can act together." He paused after that +a moment, then his voice came deeply resonant and full of warning. "And +I tell you that whether I'm at the North Pole or right here, unless we +three do get together, there's goin' to be hell in Jackson next +Saturday." + +He held them both with so steady and guileless a gaze that for a moment +both of the advocates of peace and law wondered if they were not +actually talking with a convert; wondered half-convinced, despite all +they knew of his history. Henry Falkins filled his pipe in silence, and +then, as the three settled themselves in their chairs, Black Pete began +again: + +"You men both know what a bad name I had when I left these mountains. I +was guilty of several crimes to start with, and my reputation did the +rest. Whatever meanness broke loose got laid to my door. I'm not +complainin'. Enough of them accusations were true to give fellers +license to suspect me in the balance. Then I went away." + +"With the understanding that you were to stay away," interrupted +McAllister Falkins. + +The Deacon nodded his head. + +"I'm comin' to that," he answered with tranquillity. "Anyhow, I went +away, and I've come back with just one hatred left." + +"What is that?" demanded Henry Falkins. This man with one hatred was +more to be feared than another with many. + +"Hatred of lawlessness and the sort of meanness that assassinates and +quarrels," was the quiet and surprising response. + +There was no offer to argue or deny, and after a moment he went on. + +"That sounds a little funny from my lips, I reckon, but all I ask is a +chance to prove it." + +"And simply going away wrought this conversion?" It was the elder man +who put the question, and his voice was frank in its scepticism. + +The Deacon shook his head. + +"No, not only that. It's a long story, and there's no need for tellin' +it all. But some of my time out West I was prospectin' in Old Mexico. I +was took down with fever, and they nursed me at a monastery. I caught on +to considerable Spanish, and--well, to cut it short--I got religion. But +as far as my past record goes, maybe just because I've got the name of +being so mean and troublesome, there are some men here-abouts that would +hearken to my counsel when they wouldn't listen to a better man." + +He paused and sat staring absently across the river, but his eyes were +taking in everything, and, as he turned his grave glance on his +auditors, he was keenly studying their faces. + +"What plan did you have to propose?" inquired Henry Falkins. + +"It's this way," came the prompt reply. "There are just two men in this +country that can talk to a Spooner an' a Falkins alike an' be hearkened +to by both. You are the two men. But there are a few Spooners that won't +even listen to you--and they are the meanest of the lot. It's the +meanest men that make the most trouble--and these are the men that will +listen to me. If we three are in town Saturday--" + +"If you are in town Saturday, mingling with the Spooners and inflaming +the Falkinses, the entire state militia couldn't maintain order," broke +out old McAllister with vehement heat. + +"Now, wait a minute!" And not for one minute, but ten, the returned +exile talked. As they listened, the father and son saw unfold a plan of +unexampled boldness and danger, particularly of danger to its proposer, +but as it outlined and developed itself they began to see also a dawn of +hope. The very effrontery of the thing might carry it through peril to +success. + +"I won't equivocate," responded the head of the Falkins family with +blunt directness. "If you are honest, you deserve to be treated frankly, +and, if you are not honest, there is no use in flattering you. It's not +my way to flatter men. You have always been a plausible talker, and you +have cloaked many criminal acts under that plausibility. On the other +hand, I can't see anything which you could gain in this matter by +deceit. On its face it looks fair enough--and if you come through alive, +it may bring peace to the county." + +Again the Spooner leader nodded gravely. + +"That's worth taking a chance for, ain't it?" he inquired. + +"Have you talked to any of your people?" demanded the old man as he +agitatedly paced his verandah. + +"No--I haven't seen a soul except those in my own house--and you. I +didn't want it known yet that I was in the county. But in the next two +nights I'm goin' to have speech with a half-dozen Spooners, an' they'll +be a half-dozen of the strongest men." + +McAllister Falkins considered for a time, and put a pertinent question. + +"Can you and your half-dozen hold the Spooner crowd in check? Saturday +will be the fourth of July. There will be heavy drinking in Jackson. Can +you answer for your rank and file?" + +For just an instant, the grave face of the dark-haired giant lost its +impassivity and something like a snort of contempt escaped his lips. + +"When you drive sheep," he demanded curtly, "do you consult the fool +beasts? Give me the sheep-men an' the sheep-dogs, an' I'll pretty nigh +tell you where the sheep are going to." + +The visitor rose and stood looking from the eyes of one to those of the +other. + +"We will both be in Jackson on Saturday," said McAllister Falkins. + +"Me, too," said the giant. "But I'll be there unbeknownst until the +minute comes for me to show myself." + +The Deacon had taken up his hat and reached the top step of the porch. +There he turned and, looking at the younger man, suggested: + +"I was goin' to advise that you didn't go, Henry. Your father can do +what's got to be done." + +"Why?" demanded the son sharply. "You arrange that my father shall take +his life into his hands in an effort to quiet a frenzied mob, and then +suggest that I let him go alone? Why?" + +The visitor seemed to sympathize with the sentiment. + +"That's right," he conceded. "After all, you've got to go. I don't think +Mr. Falkins is runnin' much risk. I don't think there's a man in these +parts that would harm him or let him be harmed. But it's a little +different with you. Little Newt Spooner has been pardoned out of the +penitentiary. I guess you knew that?" + +"So I heard. What has that to do with me?" + +"Well, he's a mean little devil, that boy is, an' he's holdin' it up +against you that your testimony busted his alibi." + +"Now, Spooner," Old Mack spoke quietly but with an ominous force, "you +have just said you could herd your sheep. If you can't handle the +youngest and blackest of them, we might as well abandon the bigger +experiment. If through this boy any harm comes to my son, I give you the +fairest warning that for once I shall take the law in my own hands--and +kill you." + +Henry Falkins laughed. + +"Father," he said, "there's no occasion to excite yourself. I'm not +troubled about Newt." + +But there was no spark of resentment in the Deacon's face. His eyes lost +none of their thoughtful gentleness. He held out his hand and spoke +deliberately: + +"If Newt hurts Henry, Mr. Falkins, you can hold me accountable. If +either of you men were hurt by one of my family, my life wouldn't be +worth two bits. I reckon you know that, and you know that I know it. +I'll see to little Newt, but it wouldn't hardly have been honest not to +tell Henry that the boy is nursin' a grudge." He turned and went down to +the stile and turned his mule back for the twenty miles that lay between +the house of McAllister Falkins and the section of Troublesome where the +Spooners held dominion. + +The Deacon had much to think of. He had come back from the West because +he was homesick; because as the warden had told Newt: "Every mountain +man that goes away drifts back to the mountains. God knows why they do +it, but they do." As long as Jake Falerin influenced his tribe from +Winchester Black Pete's return would be impossible. As long as the +Honorable Cale Floyd lived, his influence would reach back and bear +fruit in the mountains. For those reasons the Deacon had staged the +shooting in Winchester. Now, with the brain and counsel of Jake Falerin +stilled, he saw, in a great peace movement, a chance to beguile the +lesser leaders of his foes. Having satisfied his private designs, it was +nothing to him that others with equally strong grievances must pocket +them and sit silent under the truce he meant to make. For a time he +intended that this truce should be honestly kept, but later-- + +The Deacon was thinking several moves ahead. Yet he, who could dictate +to a fierce faction, stood in fear of little Newt. He had stopped him +once, and had promised the boy his future assistance. Newt wanted one of +the only two men in the country who must not be killed; whose +assassination would bring down the wrath of the state and flood the +county with soldiers, and make even a timid judiciary more afraid to +shield than to punish. Yet, how to stop this boy puzzled Black Pete to +such an extent that, as he rode, his brow was deeply corrugated. +Inwardly he cursed bitterly the ladies who had sympathized and the +Governor who had pardoned. It would have been much better to let the +troublesome prisoner rot in the penitentiary. + +The Deacon was not riding the county roads back to Troublesome. He was +taking a shorter and steeper trail, which led over the mountains. Travel +by this way was slow and arduous, but it was an isolated way and offered +a better route for a man who wished to ride unseen. + +At a point where the narrow trail doubled sharply around the shoulder of +a hill-top and where the soft earth deadened the hoofbeats of his horse, +he came unexpectedly on a walking figure. The mounted man had come +around the angle so unwarnedly that he seemed to rise from nowhere. The +walking figure had made an instinctive dive for the cover of the +roadside brush and tangle, and then, with a realization that it was too +late to escape detection, had halted and stood with his bare feet +planted in the soft mud of the road and his face slowly blackening. The +man on foot was Newt Spooner. He was once more dressed in mountain jeans +and butternut, and at his side his swinging right hand clutched a +repeating rifle. + +The Deacon drew his horse to a standstill with an amicable nod. + +"Howdy, Newt?" he greeted. The boy made no response, and shifted his +weight from foot to foot, while his eyes kindled with growing fury. +About a little roadside puddle fluttered a small flock of white and +lemon butterflies, disturbed by human invasion, and on a branch overhead +a squirrel ran out and stopped cautiously. + +"There's a squirrel, Newt," suggested the Deacon casually. "I reckon +you're squirrel-huntin', ain't you?" + +But the boy did not answer, and the Deacon knew why. He was thirteen +miles from home, and was stalking bigger game than squirrels. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +For a little space the two men looked at each other, the Deacon to +outward seeming with the casual interest of a chance meeting, and the +boy with a lowering truculence which augured trouble. + +The little mud-butterflies alighted again at the edge of the puddle, and +the squirrel whisked himself away. + +Back on the hillsides the white elder blossoms and pink-hearted laurel +cups nodded in the sleepy languor of a summer afternoon. In the overhead +blue a buzzard drifted on tilting wings. + +"You're right far off your beat, ain't you, son?" suggested Black Pete +at length. + +The sullen visage did not alter or brighten. + +"I hain't none too fur off," was the surly response. "I reckon I knows +what I'm a-doin'." + +The Deacon nodded. He had been thankful for the momentary silence which +had afforded him an interval for fast and very necessary thinking, and +he had made use of the opportunity. Straight as a crow flies, Newt +Spooner was making his way across crest and cove and gulch to the house +of the man he had "marked down." He had been home three weeks now, and +his lungs had drunk in the splendid mountain air and the elixir had +begun to heal the soreness of his chest. The pallor had left his face +and the native brown had come again to his skin. Newt Spooner was +tough-fibered, and his recovery, as any eye could see, would now be +speedy and complete. Also, he had practised with his rifle until he no +longer doubted his ability to handle it, and he was going on this +tuneful and gracious day at the end of June to carry out his unalterable +purpose. All this the Deacon read from his eyes and from the +circumstances of the meeting. The Deacon had gone to the Falkins house +unarmed, as his pose of peace-advocate required, and the boy standing in +the road before him had shifted the rifle with a rather marked emphasis +of gesture, so that now it was cradled on his elbow, and his right hand +was almost caressingly toying with the lock. This time he could command +the situation, and his face said that he meant to do it. + +"I reckon I know what you are aimin' to do, son," suggested the older +man as he swung one leg over the pommel, and sat sidewise, looking down. + +The boy's eyes flashed. + +"Hit hain't whut I'm _aimin'_ ter do," he declared. "Hit's whut I'm dead +shore _a-goin'_ ter do." + +"It comes to the same thing," agreed Pete imperturbably. "When a feller +like you an' me has got his mind made up to a thing, there ain't much +difference between aimin' an' doin'." + +Suddenly it occurred to the boy that the presence of the Deacon over +here was in itself worthy of explanation. + +"Whut air ye a-doin' hyar?" he snapped out. + +"I've just been over to Old Mack's house," replied the other frankly, +and he saw the boy's attitude stiffen from head to foot at the name. His +shoulders grew rigid and his eyes snapped. The rifle came half-way up, +and the rifle-bearer came a step forward. + +"Ye didn't carry no warnin' over thar, did ye?" The question was a +snarling whisper. + +Black Pete laughed. It was a thing so rare for him to laugh that the boy +was surprised, but at once he grew thoughtfully, even sadly grave again. + +"Son," he reproached, "when we told you down in Winchester what we aimed +to do, an' you turned us down, did I act like I was afraid of your +warnin' anybody? Moreover, didn't I promise you that I'd help you in +this business?" + +"I don't need no holpin'," declared the boy vehemently; "all I asts is +ter be let alone." + +"All right." The Deacon swung his dangling foot back to the stirrup. "I +was just goin' to name it to you that Henry Falkins ain't there. If +you're set on walkin' these three miles more for nothin' and then +walkin' 'em back again, go right ahead. There'll be half-a-dozen +Falkinses to see you and spread the news that you've been skulkin' round +the place. You'll give the whole business away without findin' your man. +If that's the way you want to play your game, go ahead." + +The boy gazed at his informant with disappointed eyes, and the Deacon +gazed back steadily. + +"Air ye plumb shore thet he hain't thar? He was thar day before +yestiddy. I knows thet fer shore." The boy spoke eagerly, but the more +wily schemer shook his head with positiveness. + +"He left this mornin' for Winchester. Seems he's got a girl in +Winchester. Ef you're inclined, you can get up behind me, an' I'll give +you a lift as far as I go." + +Newt believed this story, but it only fired his wrath, and his voice was +sour, as he put his next question: + +"Whut in hell wus you a-doin' over thar at McAllister Falkins' house?" + +It was naturally no part of the Deacon's program to tell that. His mind +was even now working rapidly in the effort to devise some permanent +means of curbing Newt's sinister activities. The present device of +falsification was merely a play for time and would serve a very +transitory purpose. + +"Oh," he said casually, "I don't mind tellin' you, but I wouldn't like +it to get round much, son. I was pullin' the wool over their eyes, an' +tryin' to help out those boys that shot Jake Falerin." + +But, if Black Pete Spooner could have looked far enough into the future, +he would have allowed his lawless cousin to go his way and satisfy his +vengeance, and would have taken his own chance on escape. + +The two rode on together, up steep ascents and down into fragrant gorges +where the waters whispered and the dampness of fern and moss lay +between dripping bowlders. They went through densely tangled trails +where the incense of the elder and catalpa was heavy to the nostrils, +and climbed over steep and precipitous heights, and to neither came a +throb of enthusiasm for the profligate beauty of the vistas. + + * * * * * + +"Clem's gal" had gone back to school some time ago, and it was only on +vacations and Saturdays that she returned to the cabin on Troublesome. + +But this afternoon, when Newt trudged in from his futile expedition +across the hills, he saw her crossing the yard in the gathering +twilight, and this time the boy did not growl in his throat like a +quarrelsome dog at the sight of her. He would not admit to himself that +he liked her, but he disliked her less than the others. She was too much +like a "furriner" to please him, and too quiet. There was no element in +his creed of intolerance, which could understand her gentleness. It was +sheer weakness, yet in that very weakness was an appeal to something in +himself, which he did not seek to analyze. At all events, "Clem's gal" +in a way interested him. She was young and lithe and strong; stronger +than the women whom she permitted to badger her with incessant +shrewishness. Also, she must be "smarter" than they, for she had been +away to school. This fondness for "larnin'" in itself indicated a +reprehensible spirit of acceptance for the "stuck-up" ideas of the outer +world. But for that she had some excuse. Her shiftless father, for whom +the boy entertained a deep contempt, had humored his daughter's +ambitions so that she might in the end secure her teacher's certificate +and contribute to his support. It was not an unselfish motive, but the +girl, eager for education, had not questioned motives. + +When Lucinda Merton had taken Newt in her buggy on the outskirts of +Winchester, a vague sense of sunshine had struck through the fog of his +friendlessness, and he had, for the first time, a conception of feminine +graciousness. In his brief talks with Minerva the same incomprehensible +thing occurred. Some unaccountable glow of sympathy awoke in him, and he +felt that he need not be on the defensive, alert for treachery and +enmity. + +When she went away, a sort of dull loneliness settled over him, and when +she came back, an unacknowledged pleasure stole into his heart. + +After the supper things were put away Newt went sulkily out of the cabin +and took himself to the quiet of the creek-bank, some distance away. +There was no moon, and in the starlight the mountains loomed very dark +and somber against the steely night sky. The trees were unstirring and +no wind moved even in their uppermost fronds. The boy sat hunched at the +top of the bank with his face in his two hands and his elbows on his +knees. At last, he reached into his pocket for his pipe and a few crumbs +of tobacco. In the spurt of the match, his features were for an instant +lighted, and Minerva, who also had slipped out of the crowded cabin for +the peace of the open air and the stars, saw in the momentary +illumination that it was a face very black and brooding and unhappy. +She, too, was unhappy. She was thinking how at this hour back there in +the school, the little family of teachers and such pupils as had not had +to come away would be sitting on the latticed porch, looking off over +the campus. Later on, in the comfortable library, the man who guided the +institution with a sure and sympathetic wisdom would be reading to them +under the shaded lamp, giving them wonderful glimpses of another world +through the windows of books. Reflecting on these things, the girl had +strayed farther away from the house than she had expected, and had come +upon Newt, brooding in solitary wretchedness over the day's failure. + +"Newt," she said shyly, when she came up to him, "ye looks like as ef +somethin' was a-botherin' ye. Is anything wrong?" + +The boy turned his head slowly, then shook it in silence. + +"Nothin' to tell a gal," he answered. + +In the darkness he was a black silhouette except that as he drew deep +puffs the pipe-bowl reddened and gave momentary outline to his tight +jaws and scowling mouth. + +They sat together without talk for a time. Once a small owl flapped to a +branch overhead and sent its mournful quaver out across the night. After +awhile the boy groped around for a stick, and, rising with a sudden +angry oath, hurled it viciously at the bird. + +"Damn thet owl," he complained. "Hit worrits me." + +"Newt--" the girl's voice was softly reproachful--"why did you drive it +away? It wasn't hurtin' anything." + +"Hit warn't a-fotchin' joy ter nobody," he sullenly rejoined. "I hain't +a-feelin' in no fit humor ter be pestered." + +Once more she inquired: + +"Is anything the matter?" + +He rose, and his voice broke out passionately. + +"Every man's hand is sot ergin me--but hit hain't no use. I 'lows ter +accomplish my task, ef I has ter go through hell on hossback ter do +hit!" + +She did not know, or vaguely suspect, that the thing he "'lowed" to do +was to kill the man whom she had set high on the pedestal of her +hero-worship; that his avowal was the avowal of the vendetta's lust for +blood. She saw only his isolation and need of friendliness. She did not +know that in letting himself out in even that small measure of +confidence, he was paying tribute to her increasing importance in his +life. She knew only that her sympathy was stirred and that an affection +such as she might have felt for some unlovely dog, starving for +affection, made her want to befriend him. + +"My hand ain't against you," she assured him, and, as the pipe glowed +with a long, half-fierce inhalation, she saw his eyes on her face with a +dumb, half-worshiping expression, for which his lips found no utterance. +But all the man said was: + +"I'm obleeged ter ye," and after that they sat for an hour in silences +rarely broken with a disconnected conversation. It was the conversation +of two very lonely people groping for companionship, but one was very +shy and the other was fettered with a taciturnity too strong to break, +so the groping brought little more than an incoherent sympathy. + +Neither of them heard the footfalls of a horse on the sandy road above +them, and neither of them knew that Black Pete Spooner went into the +cabin and spent a half-hour there. His coming was at once a surprise and +an event, for the people in that house had not heard that he had +reappeared in the hills, and they knew that where he went trouble went +with him. + +"Where's little Newt?" he inquired, peering about the dark corners of +the room. + +"He's done went out somewhars," replied his mother. "When did ye git +hyar, Pete? I heered tell that ye had gone off to some place the other +side of the world." + +"Didn't Newt tell you I was back?" + +"Newt don't never tell us nothin'," complained Clem. + +The Deacon nodded. Then he drew Clem aside. + +"Do you know what little Newt aims to do?" he accusingly demanded. + +Clem shook his head, and his bearded face mirrored anxiety. + +"I done told ye he don't never tell us nothin'." + +"Well, he's aimin' to kill Henry Falkins, an' if he does it, there's +goin' ter be merry hell to pay in these mountains. You've got to keep an +eye on him." + +"My God!" exclaimed the step-father in genuine fright and perplexity. +"What kin I do? He don't pay no mind to me--none whatsoever. Thet boy's +a rattle-snake in human form." + +The Deacon looked the other contemptuously up and down. + +"No, he ain't," was the prompt retort. "A rattle-snake gives warnin', +Newt don't. I'm havin' him watched pretty close. I don't want him hurt, +but he mustn't kill Henry. Don't tell him I've been here, but if he +starts over towards the Falkins place, send word to Jim Spooner's cabin. +Jim will go up to the ridge an' blow his fox horn, an' they'll pass it +along. Try to keep him home from Jackson Saturday, but if he does go, +send word to Jim when he's started, and we'll take care of him when he +gets there." The Deacon turned and disappeared through the door. He had +several other houses to visit, and he had selected the night because in +its darkness he could give his movements a highly beneficial secrecy. + +But, on the following day, Newt met an acquaintance on a hill-trail, who +stopped him for conversation and planted seeds of suspicion in his mind. +He spoke of a rumor traveling from cabin to cabin to the effect that the +Deacon had returned to the hills to act as a pacificator, instead of a +leader of war. + +Newt said nothing and contented himself with listening, but deep in his +suspicious nature uneasy doubts began to stir. A peace might be welcomed +by his people, but to him it threatened the paralyzing of his +trigger-finger. Possibly the wily Deacon had lied to him and turned him +back for some deeper reason than merely to save him the remainder of a +profitless journey. + +So Newton Spooner, as soon as he had the opportunity, began strolling +from cabin to cabin along the way toward the Falkins house once more. He +heard, but did not know the significance of the fox horns that carried +clearly from ridge to ridge, and when he had reached the wayside store +of Sam Hoover, standing on a sandy stretch in the crotch of two creeks, +he instituted active inquiries. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Sam Hoover he thought he could trust. Sam, at least, had come to him +when they were taking him to prison, and had denounced the lethargy with +which his kinsmen were standing idle while he went into bondage. + +The store was a frame shack, presenting at its front a barrel-littered +porch and a hitching-rack. Beyond one of the creek branches stood a +dilapidated "meeting house" in a flat, gravel-strewn area. Sam Hoover +himself sat at his door; a slouching giant in store clothes, coatless +and open of vest, collarless and soiled of linen. His movements were +ponderous, and his eyes were sunk in pouched sockets. + +As Newt slouched up to the porch in the forenoon, the waves of heat were +playing over the earth, and the mountains were torpid with mid-day +stillness. This was a point about half-way between the two clan centers, +and the man who trafficked here presented to each faction in turn the +guise of friendship and to each played the tale-bearer under his smug +semblance of neutrality. + +But the place was a point from which branched the road that Henry +Falkins must travel to Jackson, and the store-keeper would know when he +had last passed that way. + +Now, it happened that, though the Deacon had invented on the spur of the +moment his news of Henry Falkins' departure, he had come much nearer the +truth than he himself guessed. Almost a week intervened before Saturday +and it had occurred to the young man, although he would have laughed had +someone else made the suggestion, that the Fourth of July held some +element of danger for himself. That being the case, he was possessed of +a desire to see the girl in Winchester in the meantime. It might be a +last chance. He had no intent of confiding in her anything that might +alarm her, but he thought that with her words of love fresh in his +memory he could undertake Saturday's work armed and accoutered with a +higher confidence. So, almost on the heels of the Deacon, when he had +left the Falkins house, Henry had ridden, bound for Jackson and +Winchester. Had Newt Spooner gone home on foot and by the county road +instead of with the Deacon and by sequestered trails, the two men must +have met near Hoover's store--and Henry Falkins would not have gone on +to Winchester. + +Sam Hoover greeted the boy with a, "Howdy, Newt?" and the boy sat on the +floor of the porch with a silent nod, and leaned his shoulders against a +post. At last, he questioned casually: + +"Hev ye seed anything of Henry Falkins here-abouts of late?" + +"He rid by hyar this week," the store-keeper responded. "Hit war either +the day afore yistiddy or the day afore thet, I disremember which, but +he stopped to water his horse, and passed the time o' day with me. He +'lowed he war a-travelin' ter Winchester." + +"Air ye plumb shore he hain't rid back?" + +"He 'lowed he'd be back Satiddy--an' I hain't seen him pass by, so I +reckon he warn't a-lyin'." + +Newt sat watching a flock of geese that waddled down the gravel to the +creek, and Hoover forbore to question him. After a space the boy rose, +stretched his arms and legs, and succinctly announced, "Reckon I'll be +a-startin' home." He did not know that men apportioned to that task by +the Deacon watched and reported his going and coming, even to the words +of the brief conversation at the wayside store. Sam Hoover, however, +gave his information impartially, and the Deacon was duly informed. + + * * * * * + +Henry Falkins was riding along the gleaming white ribbon of turnpike +near Winchester. + +Over this land was brooding one of those days of rare charm that +sometimes come to the bluegrass about the first of July. While the +summer was yet young and while the gold-headed wheat was falling into +rich shocks behind the binder blade, there had drifted into the heat a +vagrant breath of Indian summer. The distances lay softened by a +mistiness that clung like a haze of dreams. Into the air stole an +insinuating freshness, which set the blood to a keener pulsing, and over +the breast of the undulating soil hung an impalpable, but unescapable, +mantle of romance. + +The slim girl who sat her dancing saddle-mare with the easy grace of a +daughter of generations of horsemen, felt it and glanced sidewise at the +somewhat grave-faced young man by her side. He, too, felt it and drank +in long drafts of the incensed air. He was as well mounted as herself, +but his horsemanship lacked her instinctive freedom of poise. Henry +Falkins, though much of his life had been spent in the saddle, had been +reared to the ways of a country where men must ride rough and tortuous +roads and rarely ride well. The horse of race-track and show-ring and +hunting field were as alien there as the other bluegrass luxuries of +wainscoted halls and silent servants and groaning tables and +silver-surmounted sideboards. + +Even now, athrill with the joy of the moment, Henry Falkins felt at the +back of his mind an oppressive sense of the humorless and brooding +hills, and the humorless and brooding men who peopled them. + +They were turning between stone gate-posts into a driveway that led +through shaded woodlands where thorough-bred dams grazed in sleek +aristocracy with leggy colts capering at their sides. Beyond was the +brick house, toned by its generations to an ancient richness, with its +harping pine and cedar trees about it, and at the left its garden, +giving a border of bright flower mosaic. + +They had not been talking much. They were both happy enough to be silent +together, but as they turned into the home place Lucinda raised +sparkling eyes. He was riding close, and, as his horse swerved suddenly +to the side of her own mount, she leaned impulsively toward him and let +her gauntleted hand drop for a moment to his bridle arm, as she +whispered happily: + +"My bluegrass is yours, and your mountains are mine--and all the life of +Kentucky is ours!" + +At the broad verandah where a negro appeared to take their horses, +Colonel Cameron looked up from his paper and smiled his welcome. The +entire house seemed to smile a welcome. Late roses still clung along the +walls where their earlier brethren were fallen to pods. The girl sat in +a deep porch-chair and the setting sun gilded the landscape and rested +on her delicate coloring and features as she smiled on the two men whom +she loved: the old man of the passing order of chivalry and elegance, +and the young man of slowly awakening hills. And when night came the man +and the girl sat alone in the shadow of an oak. Soon he must be back in +the troubled highlands, but to-night was his, with its stars overhead; +its sense of security and delight; its whispered talk; and, drifting +from the negro cabins, the mellow cadence of songs and the tinkle of +banjos. When the girl fell silent and he spoke only by the telegraphy of +his hand-clasp on her slender fingers, there came to his ears the words +of an old song, forgotten save by these children and grandchildren of +slaves: + + "Way down yander in de big bayou-- + Whar de Yankee gunboats lay, + Ole Massa's tuck his hat an' coat-- + An' I spec's he's runned away." + +Yet, Henry Falkins was conscious of missing something that should go +with the night, for there was no calling of whippoorwills from the +overhead thickets of timber and no dark shadow-walls of mountains +closing in about him. + + * * * * * + +Early on the morning of Saturday, the Fourth of July, Newt Spooner left +the door of the cabin on Troublesome, and went across to the stable, +carrying his rifle. Under his coat was strapped Clem's revolver, and +again his pockets were "strutty with ca'tridges." He vouchsafed no +explanation, and Clem, though heavy-hearted with anxiety, asked no +questions and attempted no dissuasion. He merely stood looking on +stupidly, as the boy led out and saddled the one nag in the stable, and +swung the beast's head toward Jackson, riding away in the morning mists. +Over these roads, climbing, dropping, crossing water-courses sometimes +by a dozen fords to the mile, he did not hurry. He would not reach +Jackson by the north road until about ten o'clock, and then he would +drift quietly and unostentatiously about for a while, watching the +gathering of the two clans. There might be general trouble or there +might not; but until noon quiet would prevail. The Deacon had certain +plans and would be in command. The boy was learning the lesson of craft. +He meant to see the Deacon and assure him that he had given up his plan +of private revenge. He would even volunteer for such service to the clan +as Black Pete should suggest. Having so disarmed suspicion, he could +have a free hand, and, when his chance came, could employ it. Once +avenged, he was ready to answer for his treachery. + +The usually deserted roads were no longer empty. From every trail men +were riding townward. The rumor had gone broadcast that to-day would be +eventful, and from both sides of the line the clans were gathering. Many +of them arrived early, and instinctively Spooners grouped themselves on +one side of the street and Falkinses on the other. Rifles were much in +evidence, but with this exception there was as yet no sign of trouble. + + * * * * * + +As Newt had ridden out of the stable-lot, Minerva had come to the door +of the cabin. On the Fourth of July there were no classes at the +college, and the girl was back. She saw her father gaze after the +departing horseman and then turn with a sagging jaw and an expression of +genuine alarm in his eyes. She heard him shout a summons to his younger +step-son, and a premonition of danger arose in her heart. + +She ran over to the stable, and caught Clem Rawlins by the arm. + +"What is it, pappy?" she demanded. + +He turned a frightened face toward her, and licked his bearded lips. For +a moment he was silent, then he blurted out with no preface or +preparation: + +"Newty's done sot out fer Jackson ter git Henry Falkins." + +With a gasp which she struggled vainly to suppress, the girl reeled back +and stood leaning for support against the rough timbers of the stable. +For a moment she could not understand, and when she found words she +asked in a dazed voice: + +"To get Henry Falkins--why?" + +Over the hills the mists were slowly lifting. The upper peaks still +trailed over their heights, veil-like streamers of gray mists which +blotted out all outlines; but below them pale and iridescent patches of +color glowed with indescribable delicacy and beauty. The miracle of +awakening morning in the mountains was fulfilling itself. There before +her the girl saw the crude barn and heard the grunting of razor-backs +and the voices of the geese as they waddled down toward the water. She +saw her father brushing his arm across his face, and shouting at +intervals for his younger step-son. Once more she repeated: + +"To get Henry Falkins--why?" + +"Henry's ther man thet penitensheried Newt," came the response. "Newt's +done swore the blood-oath. He's done tried oncet afore, but he was +hindered. Thar's a meetin' over at Jackson terday, an' men air lookin' +fer trouble. Newt aims ter git Henry terday." + +Suddenly the girl's stupor broke into a fury of inquisition. + +"Does ye aim ter stand there an' suffer a man ter be murdered without +liftin' a finger ter save him?" Her questioning voice rose shrilly and +lapsed into dialect. "Why did ye stand by an' let Newt go?" + +Clem Rawlins shook his head. + +"What war I a-goin' ter do?" he perplexedly demanded. "Does ye reckon +Newty war liable ter take counsel offen me." + +"Well, ye've got ter do suthin now, Clem Rawlins," she commanded, and +her voice was fiercely imperative. "Ther blood-curse hes laid on these +hyar hills full long, an' God Almighty will hold ye blameful ef ye don't +stop this killin'." + +The man stood there dazed and frightened, and dropped his eyes before +the flaming accusation of her steady gaze. + +His bare toes twisted themselves in the dust, and at last he spoke, +almost in a whine: + +"Ther Deacon hes done bid me ter fotch word ter Jim Spooner's cabin ef +Newt fared forth terday. They aims ter send ther signal ahead with fox +horns, an' ther Deacon 'lows ter look atter Newty when he gits ter town. +Thet's what I'm a-callin' sonny fer. I wants ter send him over ter Jim's +house." + +The girl laughed scornfully. This moment of need had transformed her +from Minerva of the schools to Minerva of the unrelenting hills. Her +mission was still the mission of the school, but her method was the +method of the hills. + +"An' ye aims ter trust ther life of ther only real man in these +mountings ter ther dawdling of sonny?" The question was contemptuous. +She, who brooked day-long heckling without retort, must now be answered +without evasion. "No--I'll go myself, an' I won't stop thar. I'll borry +a ridin'-critter from Jim Spooner, an' I'll take the short cut over ther +ridges an' ther roughs, an' I'll git ter town ahead of Newt. I aims ter +carry a warnin' inter Jackson." + +She wheeled and without sun-bonnet or hat plunged into the laurel +thickets of the hillside, and was climbing with a tireless stride up +slopes which would have winded a razor-back hog. + +Later on, she could think: now, she must act. The life of the man she +had idealized was the prize for which she was fighting. + +Suddenly the full significance of the boy's declaration that he would +accomplish his end if he had to "ride through hell on hossback" came to +her. + +She had started out by hating Newt. Of late, she had felt that deep +sympathy for him which is the borderland of affection. She had resolved +on reclaiming him. Now, again, she hated him. + +Fifteen minutes after she had started, she was riding away from the +stile of Jim Spooner's house on a borrowed mule. The short cut she +contemplated taking required a mule. There were fords where a horse, +with its less steady footing, would have probably hurled her to death. +There were washed out trails where the ride would be in the nature of +tightrope walking. But these things did not deter Minerva Rawlins. She +was a mountain woman with a mission to perform. + +As she rode away from the stile, she heard a deep mellow note, which was +not loud, but which she knew would carry for miles--the note of a fox +horn. It was once the signal of the moss-troopers. It had rung over the +heather and gorse in Scotland hundreds of years ago. To-day it would +ring as truly over the Cumberland ridges where these belated Scotch +high-landers lived the old life in the old, unalleviated way. + +She leaned forward in her saddle, lashing her mule with a hickory +branch, and listened, and at last her lips curved in a momentary smile +of satisfaction. Far ahead of her, more faintly and more distantly, she +heard it again. The message was being relayed. + +But in that long, hard ride, with the forests tuneful in their color and +their unspeakable beauty, yet eloquent in their silences, she had ample +opportunity for reflection, and as she reflected, the bitterness oozed +out of her heart, and in its place came compassion. + +Now, she realized that she was not fighting only to save the life of the +man whom she had idealized, who to her was the one knightly person she +had ever known; but, also, to save from himself the boy with the black +obsession. + +At first, Newt had seemed only a murder-driven miscreant whose aims she +must thwart. Now, she saw him from a different angle. He was the victim +of the false order, which those men and women at the school sought to +amend. She, also, was seeking to amend it, but while she must give +battle to Newt Spooner and defeat his purpose, she could do so with the +realization that his guilt was only the guilt of a sort of lunacy, for +which he was scarcely responsible. + +His was one idea. He was a prison-reformed man, which is often to say an +embittered man. + +Of course, she knew that, when he learned what she had done, Newt would +believe that the one friend he had ever known had become his +irretrievable enemy. Of course, in honesty, if he did not learn it from +another source, she must herself tell him what part she had played in +this day's happenings. That she would do, and in the end perhaps he +would thank her. + +At last, on a spent and limping mule, she rode into Jackson. Finally, +she stood face to face with the venerable old man, to whom she gave her +message. Henry Falkins had not yet reached the town, but she conveyed +her warning to his father, and, when she did so, she learned that the +pre-arranged code of fox-horn signals had already brought the tidings, +so she slipped away and hid herself indoors at the house of a kinsman. + + * * * * * + +It happened that just as Newt rode his horse around the bend of the +north road and turned into Main Street, his eyes narrowed and his jaws +clamped, and the lines that ran from his nose down around the corners of +his mouth grew deeper and harder. He had heard the whistle of a train, +and he knew that it was a signal announcing the approach of his victim. + +In point of fact, it heralded not only Henry Falkins, but Red Newton, +and Buddy Spooner, his accomplice, freshly released on bond from the +Winchester jail, and returning, perhaps, to fire the waiting volcano. + +Henry Falkins had seen the two defendants sitting quietly and peaceably +in the smoking-car, and they had nodded affably to him. The young man +stood now in the car vestibule, as the train roared over the trestle +and slowed down at the station. On the platform were two groups of men. +They stood with a space between them and eagerly watched the incoming +cars. As Henry Falkins swung himself down from the step, he noted, +despite the general and studied calmness of deportment, several details +which were to his eye significant. He saw in both groups the faces of +men from far away in the recessed fastnesses of the hills, who came to +town rarely, save in answer to the call of the clan. These men were even +more uncouth of apparel and wilder of visage than their brethren. Their +dialect, too, was quaint, and some of them carried muzzle-loading +squirrel-guns of a pattern long obsolete, save in the antiquated life of +"over yon." + +McAllister Falkins met his son on the platform, and together they +crossed the toll-bridge into the meandering streets of the town proper, +where the shacks and houses sprawled like pieces thrown haphazard from a +dice-box on a dozen levels and slants. At length, Old Mack voiced his +apprehension: + +"It looks ugly, my boy," he said. "Jake Falerin's son, young Jake, has +assumed the leadership, and his one song is punishment of his father's +murder. He's drinking and excited, and he has a strong and +nasty-tempered force behind him. I've been with him, urging peace, and +several of his older advisers seem inclined to listen. I've gotten their +promise that they will make every mortal effort to delay any outbreak +until I've made my speech at noon. That's as far as I can move them." + +"And the other fellows--the Spooners?" inquired the son anxiously. +"What's their mood? If they commence celebrating the return of these +assassins, the situation will become hopeless." + +McAllister nodded. + +"So far they seem quiet enough, but they are all armed to the teeth and +keyed to concert pitch. Black Pete has kept religiously out of sight, +and seems to be acting in good faith. He slipped secretly into town +before sunrise, and has been under cover ever since in the court-house. +He has talked to several of his leaders in my presence. They, too, have +promised to hold their hands until I have spoken. My God, Henry, the +single chance seems to hang on the possibility of my being able to sweep +them off their feet--and if I fail--!" He broke off suddenly, and his +eyes wore the torture of weariness. + +They walked between swelling crowds, always separated by the width of +the street into opposing forces, but from both groups the glances that +fell upon father and son were glances of confidence and admiration. If +there was any man living whose voice could penetrate, with a message of +harmony, their armored hatreds, that man was McAllister Falkins. But he +had won and held his influence by his total aloofness of attitude. Now, +he was to take a central and pivotal position, and, if he failed, his +prestige would go down to wreck with his effort, and the work of a +lifetime would collapse like a pin-pricked balloon. + +No women or children were to be seen on the streets. Doors were closed, +and the more public hitching-racks were empty. Horses and mules had been +relegated to back streets and sheltered places. But as yet from the +gathering storm-cloud had broken no rumble of thunder and no flash of +lightning. There was only a constant tightening of nerves to the point +where they must be released or snap. + +To the eyes of Henry Falkins, the answer was hideously clear. They meant +to hear his father patiently as a matter of respect; but they had no +intention of being influenced by what he said. When he reached his +conclusion, the gathered tempest would break; and, when it had subsided, +another bloody chapter would have been added to the history of these +mud-rutted and twisting streets. It could not be undone. + +Meanwhile, even the complimentary restraint could not last, if a single +fanatic broke from the order of the ranks. + +The hours crawled with heavy suspense toward noon. Crowds that had been +attenuated strings along the sidewalks began drawing in and +concentrating at the court-house square. On the right, the Spooners +gathered around the figures of the two returned defendants, while on the +left the Falkinses drew about a raw-boned young giant whose baleful eyes +never left the faces of Red Newton and Buddy Spooner. This was "Young +Jake," itching to be about his work of reprisal and impatient of delay. +Stragglers drifted in until only the brick path and a few feet of +hard-tramped earth at its margin separated the two armies. Newt Spooner +was going up and down the street sorely perplexed, because he had been +unable to locate the Deacon and make the pretended peace-pact, which was +a prerequisite to his own arrangements. Wherever he went, a half-dozen +men went also. They were not always the same men, but they were always +the same in number, and he knew that he was being watched by an escort +of the Deacon's selection, and that until he satisfied that leader, he +could not shake them off. + +Then he saw McAllister and Henry Falkins, coming toward the court-house. +The sun was directly overhead now, and the shadows were short. Newt +tightened his grip on his rifle, and, as he did so, the unconfessed +body-guard closed around him and worried him with casual conversation. +The boy ground his teeth and waited. + +Then, as McAllister and Henry Falkins turned into the court-house yard, +something happened. + +Young Jake Falerin had made his way through his own crowd to the foot of +the court-house steps, as befitted the claimant to feud leadership. From +that place of vantage he could hear what was said and give his orders +when the speech ended. Red Newton and Buddy Spooner had acted on a +similar impulse from their side of the path, and as the recently +orphaned youth raised his eyes, to find them gazing into those of his +principal enemies, his promise to wait became a forgotten thing. + +With an oath, his hand swept under his coat, and came out armed. Red +Newton had been equally swift, and for an instant the two men stood +facing each other with leveled pistols. + +At that cue, the clicking of scores of rifle-hammers ran along the +waiting lines. Yet, for a second or two, there followed no other sound. +The knowledge that to draw a trigger indubitably meant to fall oneself +in the same breath, was holding them in check for an undecided breathing +space. If a gun cracked now, it meant wholesale carnage along those +ranks. Both lines knew it--and hesitated. + +Then, while they stood tensed of muscle and blazing of eye, old +McAllister Falkins stepped between the ringleaders, and held up his +arms. At his side stood his son Henry, and on the quiet of indrawn and +tight-held breaths the elder's words broke with almost as staccato a +sharpness as that which would have come from the lips of the guns. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +For years no man had heard McAllister Falkins speak except in the smooth +and cultivated parlance of the lowlands. In Congress he had been +accounted silver-tongued, yet now, by some stress of excitement, when +the white-haired patriarch lifted up his voice, words came tumbling from +his lips, not in measured phrases but in the crude cascading force of +vernacular. + +Henry Falkins had felt instinctively that the greater danger for his +father lay toward the guns of the Spooners, since it was hardly likely, +even in so impassioned a crisis, that a Falkins rifle would turn on a +Falkins breast. Acting in response to that belief, he had stepped +between the old man and Red Newton, and the two men stood back to back, +while the tableau held, each of them unarmed. + +And as old McAllister raised his clenched hands and roared out in a +voice that carried, "Stop hit, ye damn' fools!" he found his snapping +eyes gazing into a pair that looked down into his own, though he stood +an even six feet in his socks. The eyes of the protagonist were not +snapping like his own, but smoldering dangerously with hatred and +resolve. The entire face was black and rigid, from its unkempt locks of +jet to its high outstanding cheekbones and clamped under jaw. The right +hand that had raised the pistol still held it, but instead of pressing +it to the breast of his enemy, young Jake now found it trained on the +venerated man whom he must not injure, and with slow unwillingness the +muzzle drooped. + +"What deviltry air this?" thundered McAllister Falkins, addressing +himself to the young ringleader. "What hes happened to the breed of +Falkinses thet a man what gave his hand in contract breaks his bond? Air +the Falkinses turned liars and pledge-busters?" + +"Why hain't ye a-talkin' ter them other fellers, too?" demanded young +Jake with that nasal shrillness which excitement brings to the mountain +tongue. "Does ye see any more guns over hyar then amongst them +murderers?" + +At the epithet, a murmur ran ominously along the opposite side of the +path, but there were men there to quiet it at the raising of Henry +Falkins' hand; men representing the Deacon, whose influence, though +unseen, was powerful enough to hold his people leashed. + +"Never mind why I don't talk to them." The resonant voice of Old Mack +rang like a bell, and, now that the first death-freighted instant had +passed, he spoke again without dialect. "I'm talking to you now. You-all +gave me your pledge that you would hear me out without a breach of +peace. You tried to break that pledge. You drew first. I saw you. I am +talking to you now, and I speak as the oldest man in the county who +bears the name of Falkins. I speak as the man who has the right, if he +chooses, to be the head of the Falkins family, and I am talking to you +who are a young cub of a boy and whose name is not even Falkins--and by +God, sir, I mean to be listened to!" + +Sentence mounted on sentence with growing stress of passionate force, +and then came a new silence as the old man stood there, weaponless and +rigid, glaring into the face of the younger, who, with pistol +half-raised, burned slowly from the nape of his sinewy neck to the top +of his forehead in an angry wave of color. But suddenly at his back +young Jake felt, rather than heard, a low murmur, and he knew, as it +grew and traveled among his clansmen, that at a word from this +gray-beard, his people would repudiate the young pretender and follow +the aged and rightful leader into war, or--which was a more stressful +test--into peace. + +While this question of family supremacy was argued on the Falkins' side +of the path, the Spooners stood silent, intruding no evidence of +interest. They simply waited. + +"You have assumed to be the leader of the Falkinses," went on the old +man. "By what authority? Tell me that!" + +"My pap war the head of our kith an' kin," retorted Jake hotly; "an' I'm +his son. He's done been murdered, an' I hain't the sort of a Falkins +that sets still an' lets them things go on." + +And so capricious is the spirit of a mob that at that statement, as +though they had been momentarily misled, a new murmur of concurrence in +the sentiment rose from the Falkins side and one or two voices--well in +the protected rear--shouted, "No, and we hain't nuther!" + +"Silence!" roared old McAllister again. "Let's talk about one thing at a +time. You gave me your hand to wait until I had had my say, and you +tried to break your bond. When I have had my say, you men can talk about +what you are going to do. If you make a move before I've uttered my +final word--either you men over there--" with a wave of the hand to the +right, "or you over there--" with a wave to the left--"you stamp both +crowds with the brand of perjury. And, when I talk, the first thing I +shall demand is that the Falkinses either change their names or get a +grown man with brains in his head to lead them." + +The speaker paused, and the crowd waited, tense and breathless, but now +the rifles again hung at their bearers' sides, or rested with grounded +stocks. Then young Jake inquired in a sneering drawl: + +"Wall, why don't ye begin yore speech?" + +"I'm going to, but first I'm going to ask your uncle, Job Falerin, and +Jim Falerin and Mark McDonald to come out here." + +Slowly three men worked their way to the front of the crowd. + +"Men," instructed McAllister Falkins, with the decisiveness of a general +officer who has no doubt of instant obedience for his commands, "take +that boy's gun away from him until I'm through." For a moment they +hesitated, and the boy himself tightened his grip on his weapon until +his knuckles showed in white spots. + +McAllister Falkins caught the wrist and held it; without a word the +three elder kinsmen surrounded and disarmed the young insurgent. +Instantly, McAllister Falkins wheeled to face the Spooners. + +"Jim Spooner, Joe Belmear, Jerry Sparvin!" He ripped out the names +rapidly and crisply. "Do you do likewise with Red Newton and Buddy +Spooner." + +But the two defendants had been reading the signs, and, as their kinsmen +came forward, they voluntarily surrendered their weapons. + +"Now," went on the old man, "I'm going to ask you boys on both sides of +the road to show me one more evidence of good faith. Let all the men in +the front of this crowd carry back their guns and stack them at the +rear. Then let them come forward again. Don't let us have any rifles or +pistols at the front." + +Rather wondering at their ready compliance, yet under the force of +something like a spell and also with a sense of immense relief, the +crowd began shifting and jostling, and when it again fell quiet not a +barrel or stock was visible. + +Slowly old McAllister ascended the court-house steps and stood looking +down. + +"Now," he announced quietly, "I want those same three Falkins men and +those same three Spooners, still armed, to come up here and stand on +either side of me. I wish to have the honor of their services as my +escort and body guard." + +As he spoke the last words the old orator smiled, and through the crowd, +humorless and grim as it was, ran a murmur of responsive laughter at the +ludicrous jest of this old lion asking personal protection. Yet he had +drawn impartially from both elements, and the men named stepped to their +places with alacrity. + +Then the old man began to speak. + +The mountaineer has few pleasures, and except for feudal warfare, few +excitements. He loves the fulminations of public speaking and the +stirring influences of the forensic. McAllister Falkins they believed to +be the greatest of all orators, and no interrupting sound broke the +thread of his speech. He praised the good in both factions and denounced +their mutual lawlessness. He pleaded with the Falkinses, as with members +of his own family, to await patiently the process of law in the trials +of Red Newton and Buddy Spooner. If they were guilty, they should be +hanged. If they had acted in self-defense, they had the right to Spooner +forgiveness as well as vindication at the hands of the jury. He hazarded +no opinion as to the facts. He only begged all men to wait and see, and +while they waited that their leaders should shake hands and maintain as +a sacred thing the truce so plighted. But it was the fashion of his +saying these things which in the end availed, for he knew his hearers +and played on their emotions as a pianist plays on the keys of a +familiar instrument. + +"Why," he cried at last, "in the good days when we all came, Spooners +and Falkinses alike, out of the mother state, facing our common enemies +in the wilderness, we came as comrades and as friends. When we +quarreled, we settled it in the honest way of men with fist and skull. +Then we shot from cover only upon wild beast and Indian, never upon our +neighbor. We lived the lives of men, and died God-fearing deaths." + +He paused. He had been heard with a rapt attention, but he knew that the +difficult part of his speech lay yet ahead, and, as he wiped his +forehead with his handkerchief, the voice of young Jake Falerin flung +challengingly up at him the first interruption. + +"We can't be friends with Black Pete Spooner a-stirrin' up strife in +these mountings." And after that came cries of "Where is Black Pete?" +and "Tell us about the Deacon!" + +"Black Pete Spooner is in the mountains, and he is here in town," +replied the orator quietly, though he found it difficult to make so +portentous an announcement calmly. "But he declares he is here in the +interests of peace, and is willing to let you, not only Spooners, but +Spooners and Falkinses alike, judge whether or not he can stay. If you +decide against him he is ready to go. He asks only that you hear him +out, and I ask only that every man of you give me his hand on it, that +until he has spoken no one will attack him. I have never had dealings +with the Deacon. I have never trusted him, but now I ask you as a +personal favor to hear him; holding your hands and paroling him in the +interval to my care and in my custody." + +There was no immediate response. A moody silence settled over the +Falkins men, as though the favorite patriarch had asked too much, but +McAllister Falkins turned questioningly to Job and Jim Falerin and Mark +McDonald, standing at his side. These three ambassadors looked out over +the sea of upturned faces with the scrutiny of weather-prophets studying +the clouds. After that, for a moment they whispered together, and at +last Job, as the senior, stepped forward and declared in a clear voice: + +"The Falkins boys is willin' ter hear what the Deacon's got ter say. +They're willin' to give their hands thet if they thinks he's a-lyin', as +he gene'lly is, they'll hold him safe twell the train leaves fer +Winchester termorrow mornin'--provided the Spooners keep faith." + +"That's all I ask," assented McAllister Falkins, and he held out his +hand. Slowly and solemnly, in the order of their ages, Job, Jim and Mark +shook it, pledging their kinsmen. The whole proceeding, so medieval and +rude, yet so characteristic, struck young Henry Falkins with a grip of +the dramatic. + +But that moment of drama was to be followed by another and tenser one, +for the elderly speaker turned toward the court-house door at his back, +and raised his hand; and in response to the signal the tall and +dignified figure of the Deacon appeared for a moment framed there, and +came forward to take his place at the side of his sponsor. + +They knew he was coming, were expecting him; had agreed to hear him +speak, and yet, when they actually saw him, it was with something like a +shock to the Falkins element, so that, despite the bondage of their +pledge, a low chorused growl ran from throat to throat. Many of their +younger clansmen had never seen this man of whom such black tales were +told. None of the older men had seen him in recent years. + +His name and his repute stood as a title of ruthless power, of guile and +murder. It was a name with which children were frightened into obedience +in log-cabins, up and down the creeks where Falkinses and Falerins +dwelt. + +And for a space Black Pete said nothing. He stood looking down, his +broad shoulders drawn back, his hat at the familiar forward tilt, his +long chin raised, and in his steady eyes the contemplative half-dreamy +look of a pastor gazing down on his flock. Perhaps he was thinking of +that other scene when another man had stood, just as he did now, on an +elevation at the front of a court-house. That man had fallen at his +order. The Deacon knew that to one-half of his auditors he was a man +"marked down" and a truce-breaker, but his face mirrored no such +recognition, no apprehension, and, when he began to speak, his voice +went out to the far edge of the crowd, though it went in such soft +modulation that it did not seem loud to those who stood nearest. + +He declared that he was not attempting to defend his past. His present +mission was reparation. He told with a homely and convincing force, yet +with modesty and humbleness, of his experiences and conversion. He had +come back only to ask permission to stay; and, if permitted to do so, +his influences would hereafter be for peace. + +McAllister and Henry Falkins would testify that it was at his suggestion +that these speeches had been made. He had talked with the Spooner +leaders, and could also speak for them. He was ready to establish a +truce of two years' duration, and he hoped at the end of that time it +might be made permanent. He did not hope to be believed without proof. +He therefore offered himself as a hostage, and hereby placed himself in +the custody of the three Falkinses, who stood upon the court-house +steps. He would go unarmed to their houses as often as required, and +keep in touch with them--as a probationer. He took all the chances that +such a course involved--and took them willingly, he said, since, if he +could bring peace to men who should live as neighbors and friends, his +own life was a little thing. It was a masterful bit of hypocritical +eloquence, of _argumentum ad hominem_; but it was made to simple and +illiterate hearers. At its end, he turned dramatically, drew from its +holster his heavy-calibered revolver, and presented it, grip foremost, +to Job Falerin. An almost awed silence fell on the audience. Across the +street, windows began to open cautiously and female heads to peer out. +The long, unbroken quiet had reassured the town. Curiosity was +overcoming caution. From the hotel, a short distance away, two traveling +salesmen, who had heretofore remained indoors, ventured to take a walk +of investigation. Then with an audacity that only a born leader would +have risked, the Deacon made a suggestion to his custodians and with +them went down the stairs, not among the Spooners, but among the +Falkinses. He walked like a revival convert being accepted into +fellowship. He offered his hand to young Jake with the declaration: + +"Jake, I aims to see that the trials for your pappy's killin' are on the +dead square." + +After a moment of hesitation and to the astonishment of everyone, the +young feudist accepted and shook the proffered hand, which, though he +did not know it, had directed the assassination of his sire. In about +ten minutes, the three Falkins men and their hostage returned to the +steps, where McAllister and Henry still waited, and in final ceremony +the three Spooners gravely shook hands with the three Falkinses. Upon +that signal, the clear space of the pathway overflowed, and the men on +both sides mingled. Flasks appeared, and enemy drank with enemy. The +truce was signed. Henry Falkins heard one old man from far back in the +hills say to another, equally old, to whom he had not spoken in years: + +"Jesse, you damned old sinner, why hain't ye nuver come over ter buy +them hawgs offen me thet ye traded fer ten year back?" + +And the other man laughed shrilly, and retorted: + +"Why you dod-gasted ol' rascal, I knew too durn well ye'd swindle me." +And then with loud guffaws of laughter they passed and tilted the flask, +and hobbled away arm-in-arm. + +From the window of a house on Main Street, commanding the rutty +thoroughfare which glared in the yellow July sun, Minerva looked out at +the scene of reconciliation, and her heart beat with relief. A day of +bloodshed had been averted, and the man she had ridden a dangerous road +to warn walked in safety with his shoulders drawn back and his face +smiling. For a moment, the girl wished that he might know how, since +that day when he handed her the medal, she had carried his image in her +heart--but, of course, if he remembered her at all, it must be only as +one of the children of the old benighted order who were availing +themselves of the light from the torch of which he had so eloquently +spoken. + +But in all this peace-making one man saw only defeat. Newt Spooner with +heavy heart had left the crowd, and mounted his horse. Despair had +settled on his soul, for now to kill Henry Falkins would be an +impossibility. But as he rode into Main Street, crowded with +indiscriminately mingled factions, he saw McAllister Falkins a +half-block away and his son Henry, walking side by side. + +Then, suddenly, Newt Spooner saw all things through a fog of crimson. +The blood leaped to his temples and pounded there. He had made no truce, +had signed no pledge, was bound by no man's bond. He would kill Henry +Falkins here and now, and then go down like a mad mullah, satisfied to +pay the penalty with his own life. He cocked the rifle and swung +sidewise in his saddle, supporting his weight on one leg, so that he +might face the better to the side. Then he kicked both heels into the +sides of the old nag, and went yelling and careening down the street, to +overtake his victim and defy both clans. + +Still gazing from the window, Minerva Rawlins saw that, too, and stood +breathless with her hands against her breast, as the wild-eyed, +liquor-inflamed boy came dashing along through the crowd. The town was +small, and here, on the little strip of Main Street, all its activities +centered. She looked on as one may watch a stage from a box, and her +fingers clutched at her calico dress, as she stood in an agony of +suspense. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The town marshal at Jackson was Micah French, and he was town marshal +because his temperament was not one to be depressed by the quick step of +stressful events. The arrival in town of men a-gallop and inflamed by +liquor was not in those days unusual, and was regarded with a certain +tolerance. The law was accustomed to let youth have its fling and later, +under circumstances more auspicious, to serve a writ on the offender and +hale him in a spirit of contrition before the magistrate. + +This, however, was no ordinary day. Had Newt Spooner timed his +demonstration for forty-five minutes earlier, his coming would have set +such a large storm thundering that no peace-maker could have averted +battle. Newt had waited, hoping to placate the Deacon, and had failed. +Now, in desperation, he was running amuck. For a moment, Micah French, +loitering at the curb in front of the court-house, failed to grasp the +significance of the matter. He followed the course of usage, and allowed +Newt to pass by. + +But the Deacon, standing in a doorway which McAllister and Henry Falkins +were just then approaching, recognized the full threat of the episode. +He was accompanied by the six men of both clans, who had undertaken to +act as the personal guard for Old Mack. As the two peace-makers came +abreast, the Deacon, laying a hand on the arm of each, halted them and +gave a signal to the others to close around. Then, as the two men, so +suddenly swallowed in a human cordon, still questioned without +comprehension, they were borne back into the doorway of the small shack +store, and the Deacon with his three Spooner kinsmen ran again to the +street. + +The Falkins guardsmen had taken in the whole situation at a glance, and +they remained indoors with the men whose safeguarding had suddenly +become something more than an honorary task. The thing had been abrupt, +but they needed no explanation. A Spooner had "bust loose," and to the +Spooners belonged the first duty of handling their own law-breakers. If +the Spooners failed, then they could themselves act later. + +So, Newt, aflame with rage and the liquor which during all the forenoon +he had been drinking, jerked his horse to its flanks, and looked wildly +about. He had been riding in the approved fashion of the mountain bad +man with his reins in his teeth and both hands dedicated to his +firearms. His feet had been flying like flails because the old nag was +unresponsive to his belligerent ardor and lent itself grudgingly to this +mad career. But, spurring and shouting through his clenched teeth with +his body swung sidewise for the broadside, Newt suddenly saw his victim +surrounded and spirited into a place of safety. Then, with a howl of +anger, he took one hand from his rifle to drag at his horse's mouth. He +was going into that house, if he had to fight his way over every man in +Jackson. By-standers scattered, not because they feared a drunken boy +with a gun, but because just now they stood on their good behavior, and +hesitated to shoot. + +"Let me git at Henry Falkins! Git outen my road!" screamed the boy. His +whole appearance was that of a maniac, and, as he spoke, the Deacon and +his three henchmen came hurrying from the door into the street. Newt did +not see them because his mad course had carried him a few yards beyond +the shack which was his objective, but Black Pete and his allies were +losing no time. As the boy swung himself from his saddle on the far side +of his nag, his eyes still turned inward, he flung himself straight into +the bear-like hug of the Deacon. Before he could struggle free, he was +pinioned by three other pairs of arms, and was a prisoner. Kicking, +biting and bellowing, he was disarmed and carried unceremoniously out +into the street. + +Someone asked contemptuously, "Who is that fool kid?" for Newt had not +been much seen in Jackson since they had taken him down to the state +prison, and to many persons he was still a stranger. + +The boy himself tried to answer, but was silenced by a hand clapped +roughly over his mouth; so he only gurgled and choked. + +"It's only Little Newt Spooner," enlightened the Deacon commiseratingly. +"He's just got drunk, an' ain't hardly responsible. Where's Micah +French?" + +"What air ye 'lowin' ter do with him?" asked a Falkins man, who expected +the lad's kinsmen to make excuses for him, and carry him back to his own +cabin. The Deacon looked up with a glance of grave reproach, as though +the question grieved him. + +"What can we do with him, except put him in the jail-house? He was +breakin' the law, wasn't he? He was threatenin' the peace and quiet, an' +endangerin' human life, wasn't he?" + +It was a timely and popular play. The Deacon had offered to prove his +conversion by his works, and here within the hour was an opportunity +ready to his hand. It was a thing almost unheard of in feud usage, this +turning a relative over to Falkins officers. And yet as greatly as it +strengthened him in the eyes of the public, it carried a tremendous +danger. He could now expect no loyalty from Newt. Newt, if he came to +trial, might be stung into telling what he knew of the Deacon's part in +the murder of old Jake. Still, it was a case for quick decision, and he +did not hesitate. Moreover, Newt in jail would be more amenable to +persuasion than Newt out of jail. + +Falkins men gravely declared that Black Pete was standing up to his +contract, and, since none of the Spooners cared much for "little Newt," +he had small sympathy among his own kindred. + +To the left of Jackson's court-house sits Jackson's "jail-house"--for +the mountaineer would as readily call a court-house a court as a +jail-house a jail. It is a small building of home-baked bricks, and its +windows are low and iron-barred. Just now, it was empty--save for Newt +Spooner. The solitary inmate was not to be released until the Deacon +spoke the word, but there was no intention of bringing him to trial. It +was merely a case of "sobering up" explained the peace-maker, as he +rejoined the street crowd. + +Not until the next day did the Deacon go to the boy there, and when he +went, he went alone. + +"Son," he said sadly, as he looked down on the seated figure, which did +not rise to receive him, "I hated to do you that way worse than I can +tell you. You know why I had to do it, don't you?" + +"I knows," accused the boy bitterly, "that ye gits ever'body kilt thet +ye wants kilt, an' I knows thet ye lied ter me an' fooled me. I knows +thet ye've done been a damned traitor." + +"I reckon it does look right smart that way to you, son," acceded the +other. "It can't hardly help seemin' that way--an' yet I was tryin' to +save your life, an' I did save it." + +"I hain't none beholden ter ye fer thet," snorted Newt. "I didn't ask ye +ter save my life. I'd a heap ruther ye'd quit a-meddlin' so damn' much +in my business." + +"But listen, son. A man can afford to look ahead an' bide his time. Just +now, we've got to lay low an' keep quiet. All the Spooners except you +have agreed to do that. You're a young feller with your life ahead of +you, and waitin' a little won't hurt you. You've got to let this Falkins +boy alone for a year. When I talked to you at Winchester, I didn't +rightly know how things stood down here. Give me your hand on that, an' +I'll get you out of here." + +"I won't do hit," snapped the boy, defiantly. + +"Then I guess you'd better stay here a while." The Deacon's voice was +regretful. + +"Ye means thet I kin lie in this jail-house tell I promises ye not ter +hurt Henry Falkins?" + +"Till you promise not to hurt him for a year," amended the other. + +"An' I tells ye you kin everlastin'ly go ter hell!" shouted Newt, his +face working spasmodically under his wrath. + +It would have brought a ray of comfort to Newt, had he known that +Minerva had fought back her disgust for the wild and lawless picture he +had made, and had asked permission to visit him in the jail. She had +wanted to plead with him, as the Deacon had pleaded, though it was not +for a year, but for always, that she would have begged him to bury his +enmity. Perhaps, she thought, if in this hour he felt the hand-clasp of +friendship, he might realize that there are better things than hatred +and the blind service of hatred. But the Deacon thought it best that no +one save himself should talk with Newt. He might tell too much. + +"I'm right sorry," he said, and his eyes were gravely sympathetic; "but +the boy's been drinkin' right smart, an' I reckon it wouldn't hardly be +best for you to see him. No, it wouldn't hardly be wise." + +Three days the Deacon left him there, but on each day he argued at +length and kindly, pointing out that his action was the hard course of +one who could not permit his sympathies to swerve him. Meanwhile, the +prisoner was practically in solitary confinement, for the Falkins jailer +followed the Deacon's directions, and allowed no one else to talk with +him. + +On the third day, Newt capitulated, and, though his promise of twelve +months of forbearance was given under duress, and the Deacon knew he had +incurred an enmity which would be lifelong, he knew, too, that the +promise would be kept. That night Newt rode sullenly to the cabin on +Troublesome, and stabled and fed the nag, and, when he had taken his +place in front of the fire, he sat moodily and in unbroken silence for a +half-hour, and then he looked up, and said shortly, + +"Clem, I reckon I'm a-ready to do my sheer of work on the place. I'll +feed the hawgs in ther mornin'." + +A cold drizzle had come with nightfall; a fire had been built. One by +one, the family "lay down," and from the four corners of the room came +the heavy breathing of their slumber. But Minerva did not at once fall +asleep, and so she knew that far into the night Newt sat gazing into the +dying embers, and she covertly and shyly watched his face, very drawn +and miserable. + +At last, she slipped from the covers, and, coming over, laid a hand on +his shoulder. + +"Newt," she said in a low voice, "you're in trouble, boy--and I'm +sorry." + +"Thet's all right, Minervy," he answered, without moving, but into the +surliness of his voice crept a trace of breaking. + +Some day, of course, she must tell him exactly how responsible she had +been for his failure, but just now she could not. He was wretched +because he had not succeeded in repeating the infamy and the crime which +had at first wrecked his life. By every theory of morals and every form +of right-thinking he was beyond the pale of sympathy--and yet--Minerva +Rawlins had in her veins enough of vendetta blood to understand that his +suffering was genuine and that from his one view-point he had defaulted +a debt of honor. + +It was a thing of her doing, a thing which, if need be, she would do +again; but that did not prevent her seeing in the thin, haggard-faced +boy, who watched the embers die to ashes, a creature for whom she could +feel sorrow--even sympathy. Perhaps it was a sympathy too wide in its +scope; but, if so, it was a criticism for which Christ, Lord of broad +sympathies, might, possibly, have felt a leniency. + + * * * * * + +In the months that followed, Henry Falkins organized and drilled into +some semblance of military form a company of militiamen. His men were +enlisted from Falkins and Falerin territory, and, though he invited the +Spooners to join them, the distance made it impracticable. Henry +believed that by military training these people might be weaned from +lawless intolerance to a rudimentary acceptance of discipline. + +One day, Newt Spooner, having ridden over to Jackson, saw these raw +amateurs going through their manual of arms, and he stood at the side +and sneered contemptuously as he watched. But the Deacon, who watched, +too, did not sneer. With a constant diplomacy Black Pete had +rehabilitated his reputation, and, if any of the Falkins clan still +disbelieved in his sincerity, he was lonely in his scepticism. Men on +both sides ceased to speak of the "truce," and called it by the more +permanent name of "peace." But, reflected the far-sighted Deacon, there +might come an outbreak some day, and then it would be no advantage to +the Spooners to have a hundred Falkinses take to the brush with the +high-power military rifles. It would be just as well, if this militia +idea were a good one, to carry it further. The county should have not +one company--but two. Over in the section where the Spooners held +dominance, the second should be mustered. So, in the course of time, the +Spooner platoons were duly organized and taken into the state guard. The +Deacon himself consented only to become a sergeant. Yet, from the +inception, it was the sergeant, rather than the captain or lieutenant, +who dictated every matter of importance. + +The feeling between the erstwhile enemies had become outwardly so +cordial that a challenge was given and accepted for a competitive drill, +and Newt, who had at first scoffed and then yielded to the lure of the +military, marched with his comrades the little matter of twenty miles to +Jackson, bearing a Springfield rifle and wearing a state uniform. + +He had seen Henry Falkins only once since that Fourth of July, and it +was now October. The hills were ablaze with gold and burgundy and +scarlet. Newt knew that Captain Falkins would not command his company +that day: that he was in fact "down below." Had he not been assured of +this, he would have stayed at home and sulked in the woods. + +He was biding his time. He had neither forgotten nor forgiven. + +And yet, in spite of the black shadows of a life which exalted the +vindictive and scowled on every gracious thing, Newt Spooner felt to-day +the stirring of a new emotion. In this novel game of playing soldier, he +found, rather against his will, an interest that threatened to become an +enthusiasm. For the first time in his lonely life, he began to taste, +with a tang of relish, the pleasures of companionship. These men with +whom he hiked accorded him a rough fellowship. At first, he had been +suspicious and surly, but now, when they called him the "tough kid of +Troublesome," he grinned sheepishly and without resentment. Newt was +waking out of a sleep that had lasted since babyhood and that had been +all nightmare. + +The flaming hills with their veils of violet haze across the distances; +the cheerful rustle of crisp leaves under foot; the whole autumnal gamut +of color and fragrance and spice was softening the world, even to its +hard men of the mountains. They swung their rifles and kits with a +tramp-like slouchiness, and when the noon grew warm they insisted on +hiking with their shirt-tails outside their trousers; but in their +swinging gait was a tireless energy that could walk armory-trained men +off their feet, and then, if called on, go fresh into battle. + +They swung down Jay-bird Creek, and passed the mouth of Fist-fight, and +there, lying above its saw-mill, came to view a bit of landscape as much +out of the picture as though it had been torn from another page of the +geography and pasted there by mistake. At the edge of a town, so +sprawling and ragged that one did not see it until he stumbled upon it +out of a creek-bed gulch, spread the smooth campus of the college. + +But, before they reached that point, the commanding officer halted his +command. + +"Boys," was his informal suggestion, "we're about to pass thet-there +new-fangled college. I reckon we mout es well give them folks a treat. +Let's fall in an' march by there like shore-'nough soldiers." + +Newt Spooner happened to be the file of his four, and as they trailed by +the cheering little group of students, the ex-convict saw "Clem's gal" +leaning on the palings, and though he did not know why, he felt +something akin to pride and excitement, and straightened his shoulders, +and bore his rifle more jauntily. Minerva leaned forward, waving her +sun-bonnet, and called out, "Newt, I hope you boys win," and the lad +marched on, strangely pleased. + +In that picture of men marching in ordered ranks, and wearing the +uniform which denoted service, she thought she saw a long step toward +conversion, and an approach to a better standard, and Minerva, too, felt +a flutter of pleasure as she watched the column disappear around the +curve of the road with its yellow dust-cloud clinging in its wake. + +The militia officer from the bluegrass, who had come to act as umpire, +masked his smile as he judged that contest. Then the amusement died, and +he remembered Napoleon's criterion: "The best soldier is he who can +bivouac shelterless, throughout the year." + +A temporary rifle-range had been established, and in the improvised pit, +with a fifty-year-old sergeant acting as target-marker, sat the officer +from "down below." The mountaineer squatted like a clay effigy on his +heels, and smoked a cob pipe. + +"Sergeant," suggested the officer in a pause, during the overhead +shrieking of rifle-bullets, "in case trouble started down here in the +hills--I mean if soldiers were called out--what do you think these men +would do? Could they be relied on?" + +The mountaineer drew a long puff from his pipe, and smiled grimly. + +"Wall, now, _lew_-tenant," he drawled thoughtfully, "I'll jest tell ye +ther truth. Ef thar was ter be trouble _somewhars else_ these-here +fellers would be all right; but jest right round hyar--well, I hain't so +plumb shore." + +"Then you think--?" The officer left the question unfinished, and the +target-marker again grinned. + +"I hain't thinkin' nothin' much, but ye kin jedge yerself, _lew_-tenant, +thet ef a couple of hundred fellers with these-hyar fur-shootin' guns +was ter take ter the brush, thar mout be some hell ter pay fer a spell. +I kinder reckon," he added gravely, "thet, ef things bust loose +hyar-abouts, hit mout be a right-good idee ter take all these fellers up +to Loueyville and lock 'em up in the jail-house thar. It mout be a +right-good idea." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +A man whose outlook on life had been broader than Newt's, and whose +brain did not receive constant poisoning from within, would have +softened that fall and winter, because a new influence was working upon +him. + +The influence was Minerva, and the boy found himself, as the splendid +fall died swiftly into the unspeakable desolation of a mountain winter, +counting the days between her visits to the cabin. But of this he said +nothing, and the only evidences he gave to her at first were mute +evidences, and a greater ferocity in suppressing the spirit of nagging +and persecution to which his mother and sister drifted with inevitable +perversity. When the girl returned at Christmas, after a longer absence +than usual, she found, to her astonishment, the contour of the cabin +altered. Newt had thrown against one end an additional room. It was a +simple annex of hewn logs and puncheon floor with a clay-daubed chimney +and no windows, but it was tight-chinked and solidly weather-tight. When +she asked about it, her step-mother sniffed contemptuously that it was +some of "Newty's foolishness." Later, when the boy himself came in and +saw her sitting with the family circle before the fire in the main +cabin, he shuffled his feet clumsily, and seemed unwilling to meet her +eyes. A great embarrassment was on him and he was more diffident in her +presence than he had ever been before. The girl saw it and wondered, +and, when she could do so without attracting too much attention, she +found an opportunity to lead him outside. + +"M'nervy," the boy said shortly, when they were alone, "sence ye've been +a-consortin' with them-thar fotched-on teachers at the school, hit seems +like ye hain't got much use fer us plain folks. I reckon ye're +right-smart ashamed ter acknowledge ter them folks who yore kin air." + +"Oh, Newty!" she exclaimed, with a world of surprise and reproach in her +voice. Her face flamed hotly; for, to the mountain idea, disloyalty to +"kith and kin" is the most unpardonable of offenses. It was the first +time she had ever called him Newty. They were standing out in the icy +air of the door-yard. + +Inside the main cabin, the family huddled before the fire, as +uncommunicative as cattle. The pall of the black squalor had been +tightening about the girl's heart like an impalpable constrictor and +almost strangling it. Outside, the bitter wind lashed her calico skirt +about her slim ankles, and cut like a knife. The boy, who wore no +overcoat, stamped his feet, and thrust his chapped and reddened hands +into his threadbare pockets. + +"Oh, Newty," she expostulated again indignantly, "I thought ye knew me +better then ter accuse me of bein' ashamed of my own folks!" + +"They hain't your'n," snorted the lad in a queer, hard voice. "Thet is, +none of 'em hain't your'n barrin' yore pap. I hain't sayin' nothin' +'gainst Clem ter ye, cause ye're his gal; but the rest on 'em is my +folks and I reckon I kin say what I likes. I hain't never had a friend +in this house twell ye came hyar. I've sot in thar night atter night an' +listened at thet old man a-ravin' an' a cussin' twell, ef he wasn't my +great-gran'pap, I'd hev choked him. I hear'n them women folks a-pickin' +on ye an' a pesterin' ye, an' I knows ye'd shake the dirt of this place +offen yore feet an' quit hit for good, ef hit warn't thet ye 'lows they +needs ye. Ye had ought ter do hit, M'nervy. Nobody wouldn't blame ye." + +The girl shook her head. The moon had peeped over the shoulder of a +sugar-loaf peak, and flooded the world in cobalt. The stark sycamores +along the creek-bank rose gaunt and gray, and the ragged picket fence +and stile and barn were black etchings against the frosted hills. On the +boy's face the silver light showed a tracery of bitterness and +weariness. To Minerva it ceased to be the face of an ex-convict and a +vindictive criminal. It was only the rather thin and wizened visage of a +prematurely aged boy, who had, in his wild-animal sort of way, +undertaken to be her champion. He had undertaken it much as the dog with +a name for ferocity might indicate its devotion to someone whose hand +had not been afraid to caress its unlovely muzzle. She impulsively +stretched out her hand and laid it on his coat-sleeve, and his arm +shook, not alone with the cold, but with a strange new agitation under +a touch of kindness. + +"Newty," she said softly, "why don't you shake the dirt of this place +offen your feet?" Her talk mixed up strangely mountain vernacular and +the more correct form of speech which they had striven to teach her, at +the school. + +Newt only looked at her with a short laugh. + +"Whar'd I go?" he demanded fiercely. "What do I know? What could I do? +This is whar I b'longs." With a contemptuous jerk of his head toward the +cabin, he added: "Them's my kind o' folks. I was born amongst 'em, an' I +hain't been nowhars else except ther penitentiary." + +It was on the point of her tongue to remind him that he had been to +school; that he could read and write, and was young and strong, and that +all the world lay open to him, but she waited. If she was to influence +him, she must go slowly and guardedly. So, instead, she asked a question +about the thing of which he had wanted to speak and concerning which he +found himself suddenly tongue-tied. + +"What's the new room, Newty?" she demanded. + +"Oh, hell!" ejaculated the boy with a sudden rush of color that even the +moonlight failed to hide. "Damned ef I didn't plumb fergit hit!" That +was a lie, for he had not forgotten, only he had been too bashful to +speak. Now he led her over and opened the door. + +A fire was roaring inside on the hearth. The place was unfurnished +except for a chair, a bed and a table, all home-made, but all clean and +soundly carpentered. In the Frankfort prison, Newt had worked in the +chair-factory. + +"Ye see, M'nervy," he went on, floundering for words, "ye see, I hain't +had nothin' much ter do round hyar, an' I thought hit mout kill some +time ter sort of build this-hyar contraption. I 'lowed ye mout be a +little more satisfied ef ye had a room of yore own, whar ye could go to, +an' put ther bar acrost the door, when them women folks pestered ye, an' +tell 'em ter go ter hell." + +As the girl looked about the place--all her own--tears came welling to +her eyes. How could this boy--more nearly a wild beast than any other +human creature she had ever known--have had the delicacy to understand +that longing for privacy and self-withdrawal which at times had almost +maddened her with its intensity? She sank down in the one chair and sat +with the flames playing on her face and lighting the tears that flowed +noiselessly, and, when she looked up to thank her champion, he was +gazing down on her with a face set in a mask-like tautness,--less it +betray emotion of which he was ashamed. + +But he had not missed the tears in her eyes and he knew that his humble +service had moved her. Suddenly he knew something else. It was not only +because she had been less unpleasant than the other members of the +household that he had missed her when she went away and had looked +forward to her home-coming. He had set up his shrine to hatred of +mankind. His experience had taught him much of enmity and little of +love. He knew in an impersonal fashion that men had sweethearts and went +"sparking" with girls, but for all this sort of thing he had retained in +his young manhood the same sort of contempt which most boys pass through +and out-grow in earlier life. + +Now, he stood there before the roar of the fire on the hearth that he +had built and watched the shadows retreat into the corners of the room. +He saw Minerva sitting with her eyes still pensive and her lips still +smiling, and the flames awakening soft color on her cheeks and mahogany +glints in her hair. + +She was beautiful. To a more discerning eye that would have long ago +been apparent, but until now beauty had meant nothing to Newt Spooner. +It had not existed. + +So, with the stunning effect of light breaking on eyes that have been +sightless, the young man in the frayed and drab homespun, whose brain +had been even more colorless and somber than his clothes, felt a wild +hunger to take her in his arms and claim her for his own. That this +thing had been growing in his mind, unrealized until this moment, he did +not suspect. That it was much less sudden than it seemed, he did not +understand. He knew only that he, Newt Spooner, vassal to hate, was now +in love, and, as he acknowledged it to himself, his face became drawn +and pale, and his hands clenched themselves, for with the +self-confession came utter despair. + +She sat there in the chair he had made, by the hearth he had reared, in +the room he had built--and the work had been that of a good craftsman +because they had compelled him to learn in the penitentiary. Outside the +winds were screaming about the roof-slabs he had nailed down. She was so +close that he could put out his hand and touch her--and because now he +wanted her beyond everything, even beyond the life of the man who had +ruined his life, it was terribly clear that she could never be close to +him except in such physical proximity as that of this moment. + +The ex-convict was not accustomed to thought. In its stead, he had +substituted brooding. Thought is hard and tinged with torture for the +brain that has not been reflective. Yet now he must think. + +Minerva had been to the college. She yearned for even a greater degree +of education. He had built this room because he understood how she +shrank from the squalid and unclean life of the mountain cabin--and in +all the mountains was no more squalid creature than himself. She +despised the idea of blood-reprisal, and to forego that would, by his +standards, mean a baser surrender than for a priest to repudiate his +cloth. + +He was ignorant, penniless, vindictive. She was, to his thinking, +learned, fastidious and pledged to the new "fotched-on" order. + +Should he tell her that he loved her, provided he could imagine his +stoic lips shaping such phrases, she could only be offended and +distressed. He must not tell her. That one thing seemed certain, and, +as he stood there, masking the storm in his thin breast under a +scowling visage of tightly compressed lips and drawn brow, he was being +racked by a yearning greater than he had ever known or imagined. + +How long he remained rigid and silent he did not know, but at last he +heard her voice, speaking very softly: + +"Newty, you have been very good to me. You did all this for me--and yet +even you don't know how much it means to me." + +"Hit warn't nothin'," he answered in a dead voice. Then, having resolved +not to betray himself, he found himself crying out to his own surprise, +in a tumult of fierce and passionate feeling: "I'd go plumb down inter +hell, fer ye, M'nervy." + +The girl looked up, then she rose unsteadily, and laid a hand on his +arm. Her eyes were gazing very fixedly into his, and she spoke eagerly: + +"You say you'd do that--for me. Do something else, Newty. Come--out of a +life that's not much better than hell--for me." + +He spoke quietly again, though under her finger-touch his arm shook as +if it were suddenly palsied: + +"I don't jest plumb understand ye." + +"Give it all up, Newty." She was talking excitedly, and her words came +fast. "Give up this idea of vengeance. It's all wrong and mistaken--and +wicked. It hurts you most of all. You said out there to-night that this +was the only life you ever knew--" + +"This an' ther penitenshery," he corrected her; and a harsh note stole +into the words as he uttered them. + +"There are other lives you can know. Can't you forego this idea of +vengeance? Can't you forget it?" + +The man gave a short and hollow laugh. + +"I reckon so," he answered. Then, as his eyes flashed wildly, his +utterance rose and snapped out the remainder of his response. "When +Henry Falkins is dead an' buried--damn him!" + +Minerva stood looking into the face that was close to her own. It was a +face branded and stamped with so fierce a vindictiveness that she +realized the hopelessness of argument. It would have been as easy to +persuade a maniac to become sane by asking him to lay aside his lunacy. +She turned and dropped into her chair, then, looking straight ahead at +the blazing logs, she went on, holding her voice steady and even: + +"When you were in jail, Newty--at Jackson--I tried to see you. But +they--they wouldn't let me." + +The bitterness left his eyes, and he bent suddenly forward. + +"Ye tried ter see me--in ther jail-house? What fer did ye do thet?" + +"I wanted to tell you, I was sorry--and to beg you to give up--your +idea. I didn't know until that day that you were nursing a +grudge--against Mr. Falkins." + +For a while, Newt stood silent. Finally, he said curtly: + +"I'm obleeged ter ye." + +"But that isn't all, Newt." Minerva's hands were clasped in her lap, and +the fingers twined themselves nervously and tightened as she went on. +"I've got to tell you all of it. I heard that morning--what you aimed to +do--and I went to Jackson--to warn him." + +The mountaineer drew back, and over his pale face passed a paroxysm of +bitterness, which at first left him wordless. His posture grew rigid, +and, if Minerva Rawlins had been capable of physical fear, she would +have felt it then, because she was looking into eyes burning with the +fire of mono-mania. But, at last, he spoke in the same dead voice, and +only to ask a question: + +"How did ye know? Who betrayed me?" + +"I can't tell you that. I knew that, if you succeeded, you would ruin +your life--as well as end his. You are bound to see sometime that all +this idea of a man's being his own judge and jury and executioner is +wicked, and then--if you had succeeded--" She raised her hands in a +despairing gesture, and broke off. + +Once more the boy had become stiff in his attitude, and his face seemed +a gargoyle of hatred. + +"Ef I'm goin' ter be so plumb miserable erbout hit," he said slowly, "I +mout as well suffer fer a couple as fer one. Who war hit thet betrayed +me?" + +Minerva shook her head. + +"You think of Henry Falkins as your bitter enemy. He isn't, Newt. He's +not any man's enemy. Only he has lived in the civilized world as well as +here, and he knows that a system that's built on murder is wrong. You +know only the Henry Falkins that you've imagined. I know how terrible it +must have been down there--at Frankfort.... I know that you had little +else to think about.... But just for that very reason you can't trust +the ideas that came to you down there. The real Henry Falkins isn't the +man you think." + +Newt Spooner took two slow steps, and stood before her. As he +half-turned, the fire fell on one side of his face, gleaming yellow and +vermilion on the gaunt angle of his jaw and chin, and kindling the other +and more baleful fire in his pupils. He talked in a monotone, and, as he +talked, the girl seemed to see a spirit dying in darkness and +confinement, as a potted plant might die in a cellar. + +"Ye says I didn't hev nothin' ter do down thar in ther peniten'shery but +ter study over false notions. Mebby ye're right, but I've done studied +hit all out--an' I've got 'em settled. I reckon ye hain't got no proper +idee of what a feller gits down thar in them damned stone walls, with +stripes on his clothes an' no decent air ter breathe an' no water ter +drink outen a runnin' spring-branch. Hev ye ever tried ter raise a young +hawk in a bird-cage, an' watched hit sicken an' die? They aims ter +reform fellers down thar. Well, jest watch an' see how good they've +reformed me." It was the longest speech she had ever heard him make, +but he was not through yet, and she did not interrupt. "Who sent me +thar? This Henry Falkins thet ye're braggin' about. Why did he do hit? +Out of the sneekin' meanness of his heart. War I ther fust feller +hyar-abouts thet ever kilt anybody? Why didn't ther rest of 'em go down +thar? Hit war because I war a kid thet didn't know no better then ter do +what I war bid, an' because them what bid me didn't stand behind me." He +paused and wiped his forehead on his coat-sleeve. "I didn't 'low thet +thar war anybody in ther world a feller could trust. Then I came back +hyar. I found my pappy dead, an' my ma married ergin, an' my rifle-gun +sold.... Then--" His words ended in a sort of wretched gasp. + +"Then you came hyar. I reckon I'd ought to hev knowed better by this +time then ter be beguiled, but I 'lowed I could trust you. Ye war ther +one body in ther world I'd 'a' swore by ... an' ye rid over thar an' +warned him, an' hed me throwed inter ther jail-house." + +He drew his shoulders back and turned slowly, starting toward the door; +but, with his hand on the latch, he paused, and added with cold +bitterness: + +"Ye've done succeeded in a-balkin' me oncet, M'nervy; but ye've done +'complished another thing besides thet. I only aimed ter kill Henry +Falkins oncet, but atter what ye've told me, ef thar war a way under +God's sun ter do hit--I'd kill him twicet." + +The girl rose and came over, and her hands fell on the boy's arm. + +"Newty," she pleaded with tears of desperation in her eyes. "Newty, you +must try to understand me. It was for you as much as for him. It would +have ruined your life. Besides, you misunderstand him--" + +The young man shook her hands roughly away. + +"I reckon my life's done been ruint a'ready," he declared. Then, with an +up-leaping voice, he demanded as he fiercely caught her fore-arms in an +iron grasp: "Ye says I don't understand Henry Falkins. What does ye know +about him beyond what I knows?" The jealousy that rang through the +question was the only declaration of love he had ever made to her, and +his fingers unconsciously bit into her arms until they ached. + +"He came down to the school," she said faintly, "and he gave me this +medal because I had--I had tried to study hard." + +She had succeeded in withdrawing her hands, and groped at her throat for +the small metal disc, which she held out to him. But he drew back, his +eyes gleaming venomously. + +"I'd ruther tech a rattle-snake," he declared in a voice which she +hardly recognized, "then ter lay hands on anything thet damned dog hed +teched." She stood dazed, and he went on in the high-timbered shrillness +of excitement: "Some day I'm a-goin' to have a reckonin' with thet +feller, an', when I gits through, he won't go roun' givin' medals to no +other gals." He wheeled and stamped out of the room, and the girl did +not know that for hours he tramped the snowy woods of the mountainsides, +cursing under his breath, and redoubling his oath of reprisal. + + * * * * * + +News from the outside world percolates slowly into the quarantine of the +beleaguered hills. A fever that rushes hotly through the arteries of the +nation from sea to sea, is hardly a flush to the country that leads its +own isolated life. From Washington to 'Frisco, men were gathering at +bulletin boards and clinging with hot excitement to the latest word of +tidings. In city armories, militiamen were inspecting kits and drilling +overtime. The _Maine_ had been blown up in Havana harbor. The war fever +was burning thousands into fitful patriotism, but back there in the +Cumberland mountains, where men scarcely knew who was President of the +United States, life was going more placidly than usual. The war which +this country knew most about had waned into a two-years' truce. Less +than for two decades was there thought of fighting and blood-letting. +One day, Newt met a trader riding a spent mule through the mired roads +with a newspaper protruding from his splattered saddle-bags. + +"I reckon you soldiers'll get a chance ter sashay out an' show what's in +ye now," said the trader with a grin, as though he found the idea highly +humorous. + +"What does ye mean?" demanded the boy, resting on his grounded rifle and +fixing the other with steady, incurious eyes. "Hes the Falkinses busted +the truce?" + +The trader laughed. + +"Wuss then thet. This country's a-goin' ter declare war on Spain." He +made the announcement with the superior air of one in touch with large +and distant affairs. + +"Who's Spain?" Newt Spooner put the question gravely and with no sense +of betraying untoward ignorance. In the log school-house years ago he +might have been told the answer to that question, but such matters had +since then escaped his attention. + +"Spain," enlightened the trader, whose geographical ideas had also until +recently been vague, "is a country in ther other world--you has to go +acrost the ocean ter git thar." + +"Who lives thar?" inquired the lad. + +"Hit's a country of outlanders." + +Newt stood for a moment gazing across the dreary wastes of broken +ridges. + +"Well," he said calmly, "I reckon we kin go over thar an' lick 'em, ef +need be." + +But, if the fever came slowly to the hills, it infected the men of the +two new companies thoroughly enough when it did come. So far, each +organization was drilling in its own territory, and, when the boy +thought of Henry Falkins, it was not in connection with the war with +Spain, but as the principal enemy in another war. On the lintel of the +cabin door was a series of notches cut by his pocket-knife. Each month +he added a fresh one at the end of the line. When he had cut twelve, he +would have complied with his promise to the Deacon, and would once more +tramp across the mountains on the mission which had been too often +thwarted. Already there were seven of these cryptic reminders, and in a +few days more the eighth would be added. + +Minerva came and went, and Newt at first spoke to her as little as +possible; but, when the other women of the family nagged her, he rose +fiercely to her defense. The girl sought by gentleness and diplomacy to +win him back to open friendship, but he held sullenly aloof. + +At last, she said: + +"Newty, can't we be friends again? Even if you can't understand what I +did, can't you believe me when I say I did it as much for you as for +him?" + +He stood twisting his brogan toe in the hard-tramped dirt of the cabin +yard. His face was expressionless. He looked at her, and turned away his +face, while over it went a spasm of pain. + +"I reckons what ye did appeared right ter ye, M'nervy," he generously +acceded. "I reckon I've got more quarrel with them new-fangled notions +they l'arns ye down thar at ther college then what I hev with you. They +aimed ter l'arn me them same things at ther penitenshery--but I wasn't +ter be corrupted. But all I kin see is thet ye warned my enemy, an' thet +ye made common cause with him ergin me." + +On the fourth of next July, Newt was going to have a celebration all +his own. In his "marked-down" enemy, Newt saw a man whom he had never +injured and who had, with smug hypocrisy, attacked him in a cowardly +manner and made a felon of him. In his diseased imagination he pictured +Falkins gloating over this triumph. That score he meant to settle. It +was simple and immutable. + +Then came the day when once more the company from Troublesome hiked +across the hills to Jackson. Once more the college students were drawn +up at the palings to see them pass. Again they marched raggedly, but +their faces, instead of being good-humored and full of frolic, were +serious now. They were leaving the only country they had ever known. +They were going to cross the ocean, and invade a land as foreign to +their conceptions and ken as a continent on Mars. + +Minerva Rawlins was leaning across the fence, and, as Newt passed her, +he caught once more the flutter of her handkerchief. There was no +leave-taking, and she did not know that, as he left the cabin that +morning, his last words had been a warning to his mother and sister, +that, if they "pestered Clem's gal" while he was away, he would hold +them strictly to account on his return. + +At the railroad station in Jackson, the outfit was joined by the other +company; but, as Newt stood on the platform, his eyes somberly searching +the space where the men were gathered, he sought vainly for the figure +of Henry Falkins. At last, a corporal told him that the first +lieutenant was in command, and Newt made no audible comment. But to +himself he said: + +"I reckon the damn' coward was skeered ter come along. He kain't fight +Spain in no witness-cheer." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +When the two companies from the hills entrained that raw morning they +had no idea where they were going or what prospects lay ahead, but they +conceived days of action, and fell upon months of dull routine. The +mountaineer is restive under discipline and passionate in his insistence +on personal liberty. He bristles at a curt command. It irks his soul to +raise the right hand in salute when he passes another whose leggings are +of leather instead of canvas and whose shoulders are decorated with +certain insignia. To say "sir" in addressing a superior, or to admit any +form of superiority, is a harder thing than to march on short rations, +for a voice within is always making declaration, "I'm jest as good as +any man." + +So, the mountain companies did not at once fall into ordered and +frictionless assimilation in the big military machine--did not at once +become anonymous units. Yet even in the feud, men acknowledged the +necessity, when need arose, of sinking the personal grievance in +obedience to the clan requirement. With officers who failed to +understand them and who had not been willing to make haste slowly, they +would have become a mob of constant mutineers. But they were a part of a +regiment whose peace-footing was two battalions, and whose colonel, +though a bluegrass Kentuckian, understood and loved highland and lowland +alike. The two Breathitt county companies with another that had marched +forty-five miles from over near the Virginia line to entrain, made up +one battalion, while the other was from the edge of the bluegrass. When +he joined his bearded barbarians at Chickamauga, Colonel Burford smiled +happily. To him they were big-boned children, but he nursed them along +and taught them that the swift, military obedience asked of them was not +a concession to individuals, but to abstract efficiency, and that this +efficiency was their own chief interest. So, they came with astounding +haste into a full acceptance of the necessity. They were still raw and +looked like half-barbaric allies from the hinterland--as they were. They +wore their shirt-tails out like Chinamen on the long and dusty hikes, +and their service hats tilted at a dozen disreputable angles. They still +bantered each other in quaint Elizabethan English drawled in nasal +tones, but also they watched with keen, unblinking eyes the machine-like +evenness of the regulars, which it became their care, with swift +absorption, to imitate. They were the Second battalion of the Fifth +Kentucky, but they were better known as the "Shirt-tail battalion," and +their far-seeing colonel seemed, on the whole, contented with them. + +When other commands complained and sulked in the Georgia climate, and +crowded the hospitals, these mountaineers throve and said nothing. To +them the army ration was an improvement over their accustomed fare. On +kitchen detail they scowled, but served with stoicism--though "sich-like +was women's work"--and, when they went out as provost guardsmen to round +up the recalcitrant, they brought back their prisoners with +business-like despatch. Though they were seeing a new life, every detail +of which was wonderful to them, no sign or exclamation of surprise +escaped their bearded lips. The Kentucky mountaineer might walk through +the Champs Elysées of Paris, battered, threadbare and ignorant, but he +would carry his head high and gaze straight at every man, eye to eye, +giving no indication that any sight was new or unaccustomed. + +Out on the target-range a detachment was at work one day mastering the +problems of long-range fire with sadly inefficient rifles. It was +shortly after their arrival at Chickamauga, and Newt Spooner had just +fallen back, his Springfield still smoking with the black powder of its +discharge. He had scored a "bull," and his thin lips were gravely +pleased. Over the sultry area of the mobilization camp went the roar and +activity of war-preparation. Newly commissioned staff officers galloped +importantly from headquarters to headquarters. Mule trains and +commissariat-wagons rumbled noisily under yellow clouds of following +dust. Lines upon lines of company streets stretched away in a spread of +canvas with the locales of commands marked by brigade and regimental +colors; brazen mingling of shouts and bugles set to it its accompaniment +of sound. + +As Newt Spooner walked back, throwing open the breach of his piece, his +eyes fell on a new figure, which wore its uniform with as soldierly a +jauntiness as though it had never been accustomed to "cits." The face +was already bronzed, and the gauntleted hands rested on the saber-belt. +The man was Henry Falkins, and on his shoulder-straps and +collar-ornaments were not the twin bars of a captain, but the oak leaves +of a major. + +Newt, falling back toward the little group of his fellows who sat +cross-legged in the meager shadow of a tent-flap, halted suddenly and +stood for a moment transfixed. Then his hand stole to his +ammunition-belt, and toyed there with a cartridge. His face paled and +hardened. So, after all, his enemy had not stayed at home. + +Falkins looked up, and saw the soldier. He saw the attitude, and the +venomous hatred of the narrowed eyes, and the itching twitch of the +fingers at the cartridge-belt, and he knew then that his most dangerous +enemy would not be always at his front. But he nodded to the boy, and +said casually: + +"Spooner, that last shot was a neat one." + +The private did not answer. He did not salute, he did not move. He only +stood and glared. Henry Falkins turned his back on the potential +assassin, and strolled deliberately away. But the Deacon, now +"top-Sergeant" of B Company came over to the boy--who had taken one step +as if to follow Falkins--and stepped between. + +"Son," he said in a low voice, while his eyes were very steady and +quieting in their hypnotic quality, "your year ain't up yet--not by +several months. I reckon until the fourth of next July, you'd better not +let your face give you away like that. It's bad business in the army." + +The boy fell suddenly trembling with the reaction of his temptation. For +an instant, forgetful of his pledge, he had fully meant to shoot. Now, +he turned and walked back toward the group of seated comrades. After a +while, he inquired in a normal voice: + +"What's Henry Falkins a-doin' with them major's leaves on his +shoulder-straps? He hain't nothin' but captain of A Company. I thought +he'd done stayed at home." + +"He got here yesterday," enlightened the first sergeant. "He was sent +away about something, an' he wears a major's straps because he's +commandin' this battalion." + +"Ye mean"--Newt leaned passionately forward, and, in his bared +fore-arms, the muscles stood out corded--"ye mean thet Henry Falkins is +a-bossin' _us_?" + +The Deacon nodded. Then he added, in a carefully lowered voice: + +"Bide your time, son. It'll keep, an' we've got Spain on our hands +first." + +But the weeks passed, and the Shirt-tail battalion was no nearer Cuba, +though it was much nearer efficiency for the field. Other commands left +for Tampa and the front. Seemingly forgotten, regiments and brigades +drilled and waited and fretted at Chickamauga until disgust came in the +stead of ardor and hope of active service languished, and the +mountaineers alone remained patient. + +The Deacon was cut out for handling men, and was winning the name of an +unusually efficient top-sergeant. With his experience in the outside +world, he seemed a wise and capable shepherd going in and out among his +sheep. + +At last came orders. The command was to move, but instead of moving +toward Tampa and Cuba, where the fighting had been, it was to take train +across the continent, and join other waiting thousands at San Francisco, +remote from the theater of war. The bluegrass troops grumbled afresh, +but the men from the mountains kept their peace. They had not enlisted +for any particular type of service. The President of the United States +had called for men--and they had answered. It was up to the President. + +That journey across the continent, across endless prairies and flat +plains and into strange surroundings was also a revelation to Newt and +his fellows, but they gazed out of the car windows with as little +outward evidence of interest as cattle being shipped in box-cars. + +And from early June until late in October they sat down and waited at +Camp Meritt and the Presidio, drilling and being whipped into shape +until it seemed to them that military life was the only life they had +known. And between June and October falls the month of July, and in the +month of July comes the fourth. + +Over Private Newt Spooner's cot in his tent hung a calendar. Each day he +carefully marked off a number, and, as he kept track of the time, a +strange sort of contentment appeared to descend upon his soul. He +studied his drill-manual, threw himself into the life of soldiering, and +presented to the world a face less grim and lowering. He was pointed out +as a smart, well set-up file. + +But beside Private Job Wedgesley, his bunkie, another man in the company +had an eye on Private Spooner. At times, when the soldier did not know +of it, the top-sergeant of the outfit strolled in and noted the calendar +on which the passing of each day was so faithfully recorded, and the +brain of the top-sergeant dedicated itself to cogitation. On the night +of the third, Sergeant Peter Spooner asked and was given permission to +speak privately with his major. + +The tall grave figure with the thoughtful eyes and the chevroned sleeve +was a picture of soldierly deportment, and, as he came into the tent of +Major Henry Falkins and stood respectfully at attention, the battalion +commander looked up, with a pleased smile. + +"I have the captain's permission to speak to the major, sir," announced +the infantry-man. + +Falkins nodded. + +"To-morrow is the Fourth of July, sir." + +"Yes, there is to be a parade in town. Have your men tuck their +shirt-tails in." The major smiled at his little pleasantry. The +mountaineers had long since abandoned their more exaggerated +idiosyncracies. + +"It is concerning Private Newton Spooner, sir, that I want to speak." + +"What about him?" + +The Deacon told his story. He was shrewd enough to tell it with seeming +frankness, even to the point of admitting that on that other day, now a +year ago, he had bound Newt over for twelve months of truce. That period +ended to-morrow. He spoke of the calendar in the private's tent, and +Falkins' face darkened thoughtfully. + +"Don't you imagine he has forgotten that grudge?" questioned the +officer. On the table before him lay an unfinished letter to a girl in +Winchester. He had boasted in a paragraph of which the ink was still +damp that his militia experiment had succeeded. + +"He has not forgotten it, sir. He has not changed it." The Deacon shook +his head with conviction as he spoke. "You're a mountain man yourself, +sir. Did you ever know a mountain hatred to die while the man himself +lived to harbor it? Did you ever make a pet of a rattle-snake?" + +The major was sitting at his camp table, littered with papers and +paraphernalia. A swinging lantern cast its yellow flare on the canvas +flies and his side arms, lying with his discarded blouse on his cot. +Just inside the opening stood the sergeant, seeming rather gigantic +against the black background of the night sky through the triangle of +the raised tent flap. + +"I don't like to admit that." Falkins picked up the pen, and toyed with +it absently. "I'm rather eager to see this boy make good. You are a +mountain man, too. Your record for feud-hatred and homicide was once a +rather full one, yet you came back to the hills, declaring for peace. +Isn't the change in yourself permanent, sergeant?" + +Falkins had made the personal application as an illustration and he made +it smilingly; but the Deacon's face wore for a moment an expression of +deep pain. + +"I hope, sir," he replied respectfully, "that my record speaks for +itself. But I had been living in the outside world. He has known only +the mountains--and prison." + +"And now he knows the army!" The officer spoke eagerly. "The service is +stronger than the individual. It will grip him. If we can arouse his +ambition--" + +"It won't help to make mistakes, sir. To-morrow Private Newton Spooner +becomes a menace to your life. Until midnight to-night you are safe." + +For a while there was silence, then Major Falkins took up his pen again. + +"Sergeant," he said, "to-morrow morning after inspection send Private +Spooner to my tent." + +"Yes, sir." The Deacon saluted, turned with the precision of an +automaton and left the place. + + * * * * * + +Immediately after inspection on the next morning, a private appeared at +the fly on Major Falkins' tent. The private was of course unarmed. His +top-sergeant had seen to that, even though the soldier had +surreptitiously sought to slip a revolver inside his army shirt. + +As Newt Spooner presented himself, Henry Falkins was sitting on the edge +of his cot. He was already in dress-uniform for the parade, and wore +side arms. He glanced up, and nothing in the demeanor of the private +escaped him. + +For Newt stood at the tent-opening, as white as a ghost, and, despite +his lately learned military bearing, there was the hint of a tremor +through his entire body. It was evident that last night had brought +little sleep to the eyes of this man. His hands were tight-clenched at +his trouser seams, and deep back in his eyes burned a fire that was +hardly sane. Yet Major Falkins was in part right. The sinew of the +service is stronger than its atoms, and, as Private Spooner of B Company +waited with clenched teeth, his hand rose automatically, though rigidly, +in the prescribed salute. + +"The first sergeant ordered me to report to ye," he announced in a +queerly strained voice. At the "sir" he balked, but the officer was not +inclined to quarrel over such details. He knew that however insane and +morbid was the fixed idea in the soldier's mind, it was to himself a +thing of ghastly reality. + +"Spooner," said the officer quietly, "for the next ten minutes I waive +all matter of rank. I sent for you to talk to you, not as Private +Spooner of B Company, but as Newt Spooner of Troublesome Creek. To-day +is the Fourth of July." + +The boy took a step forward and his lips showed the teeth under them. + +"I reckon I hain't a-forgettin' thet," he snarled in a half-whisper. "I +reckon thar hain't been a day I hain't a-counted." + +Falkins nodded with disconcerting calmness. + +"Now, Newt," he said shortly, "I am told you have taken a blood-oath +against me. Is that true?" + +"Ef thar's a God in heaven he knows hit's true, an' I warns ye"--the +boy's cheeks flamed with a wild rush of blood to the temples--"I warns +ye that I'm a-goin' ter keep hit. I've done been stopped three times. +Next time all hell hain't a-goin' ter stop me." + +"What's the idea? What's the reason?" + +"I reckon ye knows thet well enough." + +"I know that I testified to facts--true facts, not perjury. I should +have had to do the same thing if it had been my own brother who was on +trial." + +"Like hell ye would!" In the boy's exclamation was supreme scorn and +repudiation of a lying excuse. + +"I'm not going to argue with you and I'm not going to have traitors in +my command. If you remain in my battalion from this point on, it's +because I permit you to do it. I can have you transferred or +bob-tailed. I don't want to do either. You have made a good soldier. I +don't want to ruin you for a personal reason." + +"Do ye reckon," the private's voice broke out like an explosion, "thet +ye kin buy me off with fair talk thet-a-way? Ye couldn't do hit ef ye +made me a major-general." + +Falkins smiled grimly. + +"Why should I buy you off?" he inquired. "Do you imagine I am afraid of +you?" + +He rose abruptly from the cot, and, as his enemy stood twitching +frenziedly in every feature and muscle, unbuckled his belt and tossed it +with its saber and revolver to the table half-way between them. + +"There," curtly announced the commissioned officer, "you are as close to +that gun as I am. Why don't you pick it up?" + +With a snarl like an unleashed wild-cat and a swift noiseless movement, +Private Newt Spooner leaped forward. His eyes were still burning into +the face of his superior and his right hand crept out slowly until its +fingers had caressingly touched and closed around the grip of the +service pistol. + +Then, in a forward-leaning and strained attitude, he paused and stood +statuesquely holding the pose. + +Falkins had put his arms at his back and stepped forward until the two +were directly across the table, then the officer suggested quietly, + +"You'd better hurry. We'll be interrupted." + +For a moment, neither moved nor spoke. The private's breath came and +went in gasps. + +Slowly Newt Spooner shook his head and withdrew his hand from his +weapon. The joy had gone out of his enterprise. His victim had not +suffered any terror or sense of defeat. It was not as he had pictured +it. Whether he shot or did not shoot, Major Henry Falkins would be the +victor of that encounter. He straightened up again, and spoke slowly and +in bitterness: + +"You penitentiaried me--an' ye thought ye had me thar fer life. Now, +when ye've got things fixed jest ter suit ye, ye makes a big play when +ye knows I hain't a-goin' ter take ye up. I hates ye wuss then +pizen--an' I'm a-goin' ter kill ye, but I'm a-goin' ter pick my own time +an' place. Damn ye ter hell! I hain't give up my notion. I'm goin' ter +git ye--but not now." + +"All right." Falkins again buckled on his belt. "When this war is over, +we can settle our affairs. As long as you are in my command, your +military duties come first. Is that agreed?" + +"I hain't makin' no promises. I may git ye in a year. I may git ye in a +month. I'd ruther hev ye jest study erbout thet." + +"Spooner, you are a fool." The officer spoke rather contemptuously. "You +have sworn to two oaths. One is personal; the other is national. You +swore, when you were mustered in, to fight the battles of your country. +Now you are either going to keep that oath, or leave the service. Which +is it to be?" + +"Hit 'pears like thar hain't a-goin' ter be no battles ter fight." + +"All right. Give me your hand that until we are mustered out, or reach +the front, I need not watch you." + +For a long while, the boy from Troublesome stood breathing heavily. To +have his regiment sail away without him, to lose both revenge and +participation in the service which had filled his life with a new +interest, were intolerable. Again he seemed thwarted. + +"Henry Falkins, I'm a-goin' ter git ye. Ye kain't never make no peace +with me--but es long as we stays hyar in camp I gives ye my hand on a +truce. An' ef we gits fightin', maybe I'll wait tell ther war's over." +Into his tone crept the death-note of finality. "But some day I'm +a-goin' ter git ye." + +"That's all," pronounced the major briefly. "Report to your sergeant." + +The boy from Troublesome saluted stiffly and left the tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +It was not until summer waned to autumn and autumn passed into winter +that the order came which slipped the leash and brought a day of +departure. + +The high-landers wore the appearance of veterans now, as they marched +down to the crowded wharves, loaded with their field-equipment, and went +across the gang-plank to the decks of the transport. The mountain men +were still rough of exterior, though very smooth and soldierly to an eye +that had seen them in their "original sin" of heathenish beginnings. + +Lucinda Merton was in San Francisco on the day that the _Indiana_ +sailed. She and perhaps Henry Falkins knew why she had crossed the +continent. As the regiment from bluegrass and mountains filed in their +long lines over the side, she stood on the transport deck with the +colonel and one of his majors and looked on. What things the lovers said +that day, in the moments they stole alone, were their own secrets, but +the girl's eyes and lips were smiling, and the eyes of the young major +were full of light when he slipped into his blouse-pocket a small +leather case--and a photograph. It was to smile at him over many +campfires in the islands. + +Yet, with a teasing laugh and a certain pride of section, the girl +compared the central Kentuckians with the leaner, harder men of the +hills, and announced: + +"Those mountaineers of yours still cry out for the curry-comb, Henry." + +It was the colonel who answered her. He, too, was gazing down with a +smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. The colonel, for all his +Chesterfieldian polish, could judge a horse or man in the raw. + +"They're a shaggy herd," he mused quietly, "exceedingly shaggy and +unkempt. My barbarians, I call them, Lucinda. They are men with the bark +on--but men." He paused, and the smile became a contented grin. "If +there's a chance to baptize them, you'll hear of them again." + + "For it's Tommy this an' Tommy that, an' 'Tommy 'ow's yer soul?' + But it's 'Thin red line of 'eroes' when the drums begin to roll." + + * * * * * + +Then came days of blue wastes and sparkling wake; days of lazy lounging +on swinging decks and under awnings, and at night the phosphor-play of +the Pacific and stars that hung low and softly lustrous. Often Private +Newt Spooner surprised himself, as he leaned with his bare fore-arms +resting on the rail, to find that his thoughts, instead of busying +themselves with war or vengeance, were going strangely back to the added +room of the smoky cabin on Troublesome and the girl who sat before the +fire in the long evenings when the wind wailed through the dead timber. +The logs were blazing there on the hearth he had built for her. + + * * * * * + +One morning the men crowded and jostled at the rail to gaze ahead where +the hunched shoulders of Corregidor Island raised themselves like a +crouching sentinel, at the gate of Manila Bay. + +If the men of the Shirt-tail battalion had feared the dull routine of +garrison duty, they were to be pleasantly disappointed. In those late +January days the impending storm which the Honorable Emilio Aguinaldo +was brewing for the invaders of his "republic" hung imminent on the +horizon of the future. + +The mountaineers went into quarters in the Binondo district of the city, +but more than two score of them were always on the line of outposts +which lay around Manila, resting its left on the salt marshes by the +sea, and its right on the sea again at the end of a six-mile arc. + +The Kentuckians rubbed elbows with a trim and seasoned command of +regulars near the extreme left. To the front beyond the nipa houses and +their palm-fringed gardens, lay unseen the parallel, intrenched lines of +the Insurgents. + +As yet there had been no clash, but each dawn brought expectancy. +Private Newt Spooner, carrying his rifle on sentry duty, often glimpsed +their straw hats and brown faces, above the trench embankments, and +glared across the intervening spaces. Occasionally, too, when +regimental officers rode along the front on inspection of outposts, Newt +saw the figure of his major. Then his embryonic hatred for the brown +men, who lay masked at the back of these palms and rice paddies a few +hundred yards away, passed into total eclipse behind a fiercer emotion. + +One night when not on outpost duty, Newt lay on his cot in the +company-room of the Binondo barracks. The boy was watching the shadows +that wavered on the whitewashed wall, and his face wore a lowering +scowl. Top-Sergeant Peter Spooner glanced at that scowl, and a faint +frown crossed his own features. + +Captain Sparvin of B Company had developed into a fair officer, and in +actual service a wider gulf yawned between the men who held commissions +and those who held warrants than had been the case back in the hills +where the company was born. Yet Sparvin more and more depended on the +Deacon, and more and more left company affairs in his capable hands. The +company's efficiency and deportment were the first sergeant's care. +Charges were preferred or dismissed at Sergeant Spooner's suggestion. +When a "non-com" vacancy occurred, the man suggested by Black Pete was +usually selected to fill it. And to the confidence of the officers was +added a sort of idolatry on the part of the enlisted men. It is quite +likely that had B Company been out on detached service, and had Sergeant +Spooner given a command contradictory to his superior, even after these +months of discipline, B Company would have followed the sergeant. Yet +Sergeant Spooner had his problem, and that problem was his kinsman, +Newt. When Newt scowled in that fashion the top-sergeant was troubled +with apprehension. One crazy man in one crazy moment can do things which +cannot be undone. Yet there was no outward ground for complaint or +charges. In the entire outfit was no more efficient soldier than Newt. +None answered more intelligently or with a snappier quickness to +commands; none kept his kit in more perfect order; none was more +soldierly. The problem was intangible in its outward manifestations, but +the sergeant knew that the boy was "bidin' his time." + +After "taps" the company-room quieted save for snores and heavy +breathing. But Newt, lying quiet on his cot, still staring at the +shadows on the whitewashed wall, was not asleep, and Sergeant Peter +Spooner was not asleep. The tropic night-quiet had settled over the +empty streets of the city, and the footsteps of occasional pedestrians +only emphasized the deep silence. + +Suddenly there came to the ears of the private and the ears of the +sergeant a far-away, but insistent sound, almost a ghost-sound in the +vagueness with which it drifted across the roofs from the north. Yet it +brought them both to their feet, and in an instant both stood together +by the window. Now it was plain enough, and began swelling from a +purring rattle to the crescendo of an approaching wind storm. Somewhere +out there in the far distance was the constant splatter of Mausers like +rain on a tin roof. + +Instantly Sergeant Spooner was arousing B Company and turning them out. +From the streets, too, five minutes ago quiet with a cemetery stillness, +came a confusion of shouting and rushing, punctuated by the sounds of +slamming doors and creaking shutters. Presently the clatter of hoofs and +the brazen signals of bugles gave official notice of immediate action. + +The men of B Company were dressing with the hurry of firemen, and +Sergeant Spooner said quietly: + +"Well, boys, the feud has bust loose." + +Then, almost as suddenly as the clamor of the streets rose, it died +again, and the city lay silent once more except for the distant, +unending roar of musketry. + +At regimental headquarters officers were gathering, and companies were +falling in under the vigorous exhortation of non-coms. Newt Spooner saw +Major Falkins hurry into the room, through whose open door he could see +Private Watson at a telegraph key. The major was buckling his saber-belt +as he went. About the instrument pressed a cluster of battalion and +company officers, crowding eagerly up for news and orders. In a subtle +fashion the news from within floated out and communicated itself to the +lines of men impatiently shuffling their feet in the streets. The +fighting was all along the north front. That was where the Fifth +Kentucky's outposts were stationed. That growing volume of Mauser +argument, with the duller rumble of the Springfields, probably told of +the Kentuckians holding hard against the pressure. Why did not the line +fall into column and move forward? Why did they stand here waiting when +they were needed there? Then came a rumor from the telegraph key that +only two battalions were to go forward, while the third remained in town +with the reserves. + +That report sent a low grumble through the ranks. In the very rattle of +tin-cup on haversack and rifle-butt on cobbles was a note of deep +discontent. Newt could see through the open door the figure of Major +Falkins leaning anxiously over the instrument. Then he saw him turn to +come out with a smile. Brief staccato orders broke from captains and +lieutenants and the Shirt-tailers were swinging down the Calle Lemeri, +with the bluegrass battalion at their backs. The streets gave back +hollow, ghost-like echoes to the rattle of their accouterments and the +quick rhythm of their step. Clearer and noisier to the front rose the +insistent drumming of the fight, and the men from the hills and lowlands +were going at last into action. + +About them were dark streets with jalousies that clicked as anxious +house-holders thrust out startled faces. From other streets they heard +kindred sounds telling of other columns, battalions and regiments, +moving in other currents to the support of their own outposts. The long, +swinging step of the mountaineers carried them swiftly. The bluegrass +men had need to lengthen their stride to hold the pace, and from their +ranks came a low hum of frank and eager excitement, but the +high-landers marched in silence. + +The First Nebraska had borne the brunt of the initial firing, but from +that point it traveled along the whole insurrecto front as forest flames +run in dry leaves, eating its way along a segment of five miles of +trenches. As the battalions drew nearer and the chorus extended, the +night rocked to the solid bellow of musketry, until individual reports +were swallowed and lost in one deep and composite note. + +The Shirt-tail battalion at last left the ordered streets behind and +began its journey through the sparser-peopled environs. They hurried +through villa-adorned suburbs, passing old Spanish mansions. Now +overhead they heard the whine of the Mauser bullets. These messengers +went by with a spiteful song like a whispered shriek: they purred and +whistled like a strangling human throat: they brought to the ear a +ripping noise like the violent tearing of silk. They rattled nastily as +they struck corrugated-iron roofs, and popped when they found billets in +the walls of nipa houses. + +A strange silence sat upon the marching column, or a silence which would +have been strange, with less taciturn men, and they went as though they +were going to mill with grain to be ground. As they were reinforcing +outposts, no advance guard felt its way at the front. The colonel, major +of the second battalion, and part of the staff, all mounted on +Philippine ponies, rode a few paces ahead of the column. The way now +led through scattered houses and straggling gardens, where ragged +palm-fronds waved to the sea-breeze. From some of the windows came wails +of fright as immured house-holders heard the popping of bullets against +their frail habitations. + +Suddenly, above the din of rifle-fire, rose a deep boom, followed by a +rumble like the rail-song of a distant express. Two seconds later came a +loud swish, and two or three of the frail nipa shacks to the left and +rear collapsed as though a ten-pin ball had struck houses of cards. The +column was under artillery fire, and should by all military theories +deploy into open formation, instead of offering a compact target. But +ahead lay an _estero_, or slough, which must be crossed on a bridge. +Beyond that were open fields with rice-dykes and cane--a place of +comparative security not yet attained. + +At the order "double-quick" ringing from the bugles, the column leaped +eagerly forward to a clattering trot, but before they reached the bridge +two more of the loud-throated roars gave warning, and two more of the +solid shot plowed past, to demolish other houses perilously near by. +Henry Falkins looked back to see how his men were standing this initial +test, and smiled, well satisfied. + +Then the bridge was reached and crossed, and the command was spreading +fan-like into open order. Now the bullets were not only giving voice +overhead, but kicking up the dirt near at hand. + +Out there in the darkness, now only a little way distant, lay the sixty +or seventy men of the regimental outpost, who had been sustaining the +onslaught from the trenches for an hour or more. One could mark their +positions from the spitting tongues of their rifles, and as the two +battalions deployed, creeping up, in open order, to reinforce and +relieve them, they fell back nonchalantly, wiping the sweat out of their +eyes, powder-grimed, and making brief comments to their fellows; +comments perhaps mingled with such sense of patronage as men coming out +of their baptism of fire may have for those just going in. Then, with +business-like quiet, the battalions worked forward and lay down in the +trenches, which had merely been a guard-line for weeks. + +"Falkins," said Colonel Burford, as the two went along the regiment's +length, "there's no use wasting ammunition shooting at a sky line. Those +fellows over there are barely sticking their scalp locks over the +trenches. They are merely peppering the night." + +The major nodded, then with a grin suggested: + +"Colonel, those boys have been under their first strain. They'll rest +easier if they can shoot a few volleys--and it won't burn much powder." + +So, the two battalions, as a matter of indulgence, were permitted to +contribute a salute of challenge, and then, as the bugler sounded "cease +firing," they were ordered to dispose themselves as well as they could +in the trenches and behind the rice-dykes, and rest until morning. + +Thus they spent their first night in the field with the unending, but +comparatively harmless, roar from the north as a clangorous lullaby, and +the tropic starlight in their faces, and the breeze which whispered +gently across the salt marshes from the sea fanning their foreheads. + +When the dawn broke with tropical suddenness like the ringing up of a +quick curtain, the theater of last night's drama stood revealed. With +daylight came a slackening of the night-long Insurgent thunder, which +slowly dropped away to desultory firing, and then to complete quiet. Off +to the left of the line, where the Kentuckians had lain, stretched the +broken wastes of the salt marshes, with here and there in the distance +blue glimpses of the sea. But directly ahead, where all night the +trenches had been barking and vomiting, the landscape was naked of +visible life. The rice-fields went off for a short distance, broken only +by their dykes, and farther away rose a dense screen of bamboo and +woodland, a solid mass of green, from which waved a ragged top of +shredded palms. + +As the men crouched over their hard-tack and coffee, they were thinking +of the day's work, which they hoped would include passing beyond that +screen and those trenches. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +During the night a siege-gun had been brought up by hand, and now, from +its place where the road cut through the entrenchments, it opened with +the morning greeting of a hoarse bark, as the crew serving it began +feeling over the landscape for the field-piece which had boomed so +insistently last night. + +Then, as the morning wore on, and orders to advance came, the slow +rifle-firing began again and increased in volume as the sun climbed. + +The night-long rain of random lead had taken its toll in a few wounded, +though none had sustained mortal hurt. Two or three men from B Company +came back to the front from the improvised dressing-station at the rear, +wearing reddened bandages, which they displayed with the cocky pride of +medals, as they picked up their pieces and joined again in the game. + +The masking woods told nothing of the trenches beyond except in the +swish of Mauser bullets, which shredded drooping palm fronds into +tatters. Newt Spooner was squatting on his haunches in the trench, with +a pipe between his teeth. Every now and then he came to his knees and +fired a shot. At his side knelt Jim Dodeman, who until he joined the +militia had never fared twenty miles from the cabin on Troublesome +where he had been born. Jimmy was bored with the ennui of shooting at a +screen of palm trees and crouching between times in a hot ditch. So, at +last, he rose for a fuller view and to stretch the cramp from his limbs. +He rose silently and as silently lay down again, but this time he lay +flat, and, when a pause in proceedings gave Newt leisure to relight his +pipe, he looked down to recognize in Jimmy's posture the dummy-like +quality of death. The little muddy spot under the soldier's temple was +fed by blood trickling from his brain. + +First-Sergeant Peter Spooner had been going back and forth along the +company line, curbing the inclination of its restive integers to +over-spend cartridges in futile bickering. He stopped and turned the +prostrate figure face up, and for a moment looked into the dulled eyes. + +"Dead," commented the sergeant briefly. + +Newt nodded. + +"Them damned Falkinses got him," he said over his shoulder. Then, +remembering that he had swapped enemies, he grinned, and corrected +himself: "I mean them other varmints." + +At noon, a brigade staff-officer brought instructions. The whole line +was to be advanced five hundred yards to a new position where the woods +would no longer screen the enemy, and it was there to dig trenches along +a roadway, which paralleled the present front. + +That news sent a drone of excited pleasure through the bluegrass +companies, and even into the phlegmatic stoicism of the Shirt-tail +battalion crept the suppressed expectation of the first charge. Major +Falkins went along the line for final instructions to company +commanders, and First Sergeant Spooner cast down his company front the +anxious glance of a stage-director who awaits the curtain call, on a +first night. + +But the two platoons seemed steady enough as they rose from the trenches +in extended order, and waited for the word that should launch them +forward. + +Then a bugle rang, and the entire two battalions started silently and +stolidly onward. In a few minutes the silence would be broken--from the +front. On to the screen of the woods they went at a rapid quickstep, and +through the foliage they broke into view, like circus riders through +paper hoops. As they emerged into the open rice-fields, and could see +the straw hats at the top of the trenches four hundred yards to the +north, the stillness was ripped in one wild roar of musketry, and their +terrific welcome had begun. Its echoes rolled away in waves of sound +that merged with fresh outburstings, and nearer at hand, in weird +shrieks, piercing the louder detonations, whimpered the lost-soul wail +of the Mauser bullets. As the straw hats bobbed hysterically up and +disappeared again, the men of the two battalions began stumbling and +lying grotesquely down in the rice-fields. + +They reached the road, which the brigade order said was to be their +resting place. But neither brigade nor division orders can keep men +alive in a place where the physical topography forbids. The road ran at +the right and left in a sunken band between banks two or three feet +high, affording--to east and west--a natural protection; but for the +length of several furlongs it elected to rise and proceed in a level +flush with the rice-fields and gave to even the closest-lying and most +prostrate figures pitiless conspicuousness as targets. On each side, the +troops were at work, improving their cover, and for their work they had +partial security; but the Kentuckians were left mercilessly exposed. +They were firing desperately at the solid earth ahead and receiving in +response a death-hail which they could not for many minutes endure. + +Sergeant Peter Spooner, running in a crouching attitude, dropping, +rising, his rifle barking, was doing all that mortal being could do to +make moles of his men and burrow them into the earth. The situation was +intolerable. The Shirt-tail battalion and the bluegrass battalion stood +in peril of decimation in their maiden engagement. + +Newt Spooner lay stretched behind a mound of earth some seven inches +high. He lay spraddled and flattened like a large drab lizard, hugging +the earth with his feet stretched apart, and even his heels held tight +to the clay. At each report of his piece Private Spooner opened the +block and blew through the breech, as a trap-shooter blows the powder +out of a shot-gun. Private Spooner's face was sweating with exertion, +and the dust turned to mud as it gathered on his chin and jaws. + +Behind similarly insufficient mounds, or no mounds at all, several +hundred other privates were similarly employed. At the front rose a +dense fog of fleecy white, for the volunteers had not yet been afforded +the luxury of smokeless powder. Ever and anon a man rose on one elbow +and strained his eyes in a vain effort to penetrate the pale smoke, and +as the hour-like minutes wore on, more and more of them rolled quietly +over and relinquished their rifles and stared up out of eyes which the +hot glare had ceased to trouble. + +Orders are orders, and the line was commanded to remain here, but Major +Falkins knew that his section of it must move forward, or fall back and +leave the line broken. The colonel was at the regimental center where +the line lapped on the deeper banks. Falkins, with a scarlet thread down +his face where death had brushed him in passing, found the commanding +officer. + +"I can't stay where I am," he shouted; "I must go forward." + +"Go," acquiesced the "C. O." crisply. "And go like hell!" + +At the returning major's elbow pressed the battalion's trumpeter, and, +at the signal of a nod, he set the bugle to his lips and blew, "Cease +firing!" It was the command for which he had been fretting. The brazen +message went only a little way along the noisy line, but it was relayed +by word of mouth; and, as the firing fell away, the second command +clamored upon the first. "Fix bayonets!" + +Those notes were magic. They stood for the wild dash and close quarters +and hand-to-hand punishment. They promised vengeance for the men who had +fallen asleep. Down the front ran the ominous metallic click of engaging +hilt and muzzle, and, as the pall of smoke began to rise, the line came +shouting to its feet and set its eyes hungrily on the yellow stripe that +marked the top of the earth-works. They stood, a moment, exposed as the +command of "forward" flexed their taut nerves. There were three hundred +yards between them and their goal, and these three hundred were +annoyingly and maddeningly broken with fences and gullies, but now they +were free to fire at will, which meant as fast as they could load. Also, +as they advanced, they left behind their own blinding curtain of powder +fog. And these men from the hills, shooting now at a point-blank range +to which they were accustomed: a range at which every man was a +sharp-shooter, combed and harried the yellow earthen band ahead of them +with so galling and stinging and venomous a punishment that the straw +hats drew down like turtle heads into shells, and the Mauser bullets, +fired at random, went wilder and higher. + +It was not easy work, though much easier than lying prone and being shot +to pieces. Even with random marksmanship and growing panic, the brown +men were still sheltered, and many shots went home. Newt, clambering +over a fence, saw at his shoulder a boy who used to sit at his side on +the split-log bench at school. He saw the boy loosen his hold on the +same fence and roll over and over in the rice-stubble, clawing at his +breast, while his lips snarled and swore. + +Then, sixty yards from the yellow rim of the trenches, the bugle rang +out its most blood-quickening call, and, in answer, the line trembled +and leaped forward, and mountain reticence broke at last in one +prolonged mountain yell of fury and loosened passion. + +And, as that barbaric howl of impending doom smote upon the ears of the +Filipinos in their ordered trenches, they read in it a cue for swift +exit, and their white-clad bodies began clambering out of the +rifle-pits, and their brown legs began twinkling through the rice-fields +behind. + +The Kentuckians redoubled their pace. It was intolerable that the men +whom they had left strewn along the rice-paddies should go unavenged. +Yet, when they clambered across the trench fronts, it was to find them +empty, save for those who lay dead. + +For a moment, the victors halted, winded and almost exhausted at the +trenches they had carried. Companies were as hopelessly jumbled and +mixed as a galley of type that a compositor has dropped downstairs. + +Private Newt Spooner and perhaps enough men to make a half-platoon, +after a few moments of gasping and sweat-wiping, rose up and started on +in the trail of the fleeing insurgents. + +"Hold on there!" bellowed Sergeant Peter Spooner, for once losing his +composure in a volley of profanity. "Where the hell do you think you're +goin' to?" + +"We're goin' atter 'em!" shrieked back Private Newton Spooner. "Come on, +boys--we kin git 'em." + +Major Falkins had seen the trouble and rushed up, his face steaming, but +triumphant. + +"Get back, damn you!" he ordered. "Get back to those trenches." He had +neither time nor inclination to explain why pursuit was denied. Such +matters as preserving division alignment were of no interest to these +men. + +For a moment, Newt Spooner hesitated, surveying his battalion commander +with an insolent contempt, then he turned to the other restive privates. + +"Come on, boys!" he yelled. "Don't suffer them niggers ter git away." + +The major and his sergeant acted promptly. With the flat of sword and +clubbed musket, they beat back the mutinous and excited men, and, after +one blood-mad moment, all except Newt turned readily enough with +shamefaced grins. + +But, in the momentary flail-like wielding of his saber-blade, Henry +Falkins had struck Newton Spooner one light blow, and straightway the +boy forgot any war between the United States and Aguinaldo; and +remembered only the old war between himself and the man who had sent him +to prison. He slipped a cartridge into his breech and would have settled +the score at the moment. + +But, in that same moment, Sergeant Peter Spooner caught his hand, and +whispered in his ear. + +"Obey orders, damn you! This ain't your only chance. This ain't no +private quarrel." + +No one else had seen that look, or in the larger excitement read its +significance, and, even while Sergeant Spooner held Private Spooner's +steaming wrist, and their faces bent close together, sweat-wet and +dirt-stained, a new roar awoke two hundred yards to their left, to seize +their attention. The windows and doors of the old Spanish church, that +stood with a crooked cross tottering over its stained stucco walls, was +belching fire upon them. There was no time to form company or platoon +now, or to sort men into their rightful commands. Major Falkins waved +his saber and led the way at a run toward the offending walls, and +Sergeant Spooner at his heels was herding the group forward at pell-mell +speed, their rifles blazing and barking as they went. + +A few of them did not reach the place, but enough did, and, as they came +to the front, spreading and dividing to prevent possible escape from +other entrances, the doors opened, and the over-venturesome refugees +rushed out in a pelting tide of effort to fight their way to freedom by +a sortie. Then the wrath of the mountaineers was appeased, and those of +the enemy who did not remain for burial went back as prisoners. + +As Henry Falkins hurried back to his command, Private Newt Spooner +followed close at his heels and this time his rifle swung at his side. +Its bayonet bore some stains which he wiped off as he walked. At the +trenches, the bugle was sounding assembly. Across the face of the +country, wisps and attenuated clouds of smoke were wreathing their way +up and melting in the blue. From the rice-paddies and dykes rose +wavering mists of heat. + +The Kentucky hillsmen, now reformed into column, were going back to +their fellows. They alone had had the capping triumph of crossing the +earth-works and effecting the hand-to-hand dislodgment of the enemy. So +they went back with a jaunty tread, and they paused before starting +across that four hundred yards where they should be watched as returning +victors, to pull out their shirt-tails. Marching in that style, they +would not have to declare their identity. + +To Henry Falkins they suggested, as the skirts of their flannel shirts +flapped around their legs like kilts, those far-off ancestors of the +Scotch highlands whose blood flowed unamalgamated in their veins. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +That inflexible grip which the service takes upon its units and +fractions of units, had slowly and unconsciously altered the view-point +of The Fifth Kentucky foot. Back there in the stagnant riffle of a life +which for a century had not taken a forward step, their motto had been, +"Let us alone," and every man had been a law to himself; despot over his +own affairs and the affairs of his family. Now, because they obeyed in a +common cause and of their own volition, obedience no longer irked them, +and they had come to think of themselves less as individuals than as +bricks mortared together in a military arch. + +The second day after the outbreak of insurrection passed with no greater +excitement than occasional and desultory firing from the front. Night +fell with utter quiet as though both armies were exhausted and ready for +sleep. The stars overhead were bright and close, and the men, sprawling +on the earth, were thinking softened thoughts, or crouching around +campfires in rehearsal of recent events. + +Near the spot where Newt Spooner lay stretched on his blanket, a +bearded, gaunt man, with a sprinkling of gray in his beard, was writing +a letter home. It was Uncle Jerry Belmear, whose forge and smithy stood +at the forks of Squabble Creek. The yellow flare from a shaded lantern +fell in sharp high lights on his lean cheekbones and on the cramped +hand, laboriously pushing its pencil. His lips moved, automatically +spelling out the words of difficult composition. Newt was watching him +with the reflection that there was nowhere anyone to whom he himself +could send a thrill of pleasure with a letter. Then, since strange +influences were working in the boy's starved heart, he wondered if, +after all, "Clem's gal" might not be glad to hear from him. Minerva was +"eddicated," and in her head were cogitations which he could never hope +to comprehend. She took medals for "larnin'"--he ground his teeth as he +thought from whose hand she had taken one. He was ignorant and +"pizen-mean." The contrast was obvious. Yet, she had looked at him with +a friendly glance, and had been grateful for his championship. + +But these idle thoughts were violently interrupted by a sudden staccato +outburst and the darting of Mauser tongues through the dark. Recumbent +figures came to their feet. Uncle Jerry Belmear rose with the +half-finished letter in his hand, and as he stood up he was struck. Had +the same man been wounded in a charge or lying in his trench, he would +have fallen silently, but that messenger out of the night, coming when +his thoughts were all back in the silent Cumberlands, startled him into +outcry. He wheeled, and from his lips broke a sound that started as an +oath and ended in a weird shriek, heard along the whole battalion +front. + +As though they had wanted only that cue, the battalion, hitherto patient +to await orders, sprang to the trenches and began pumping their +Springfields frantically into the night. Buglers were madly blowing +"Cease firing"; officers and sergeants were carrying profanity and +strong language the length of the line, but the panic spirit had to +spend itself before the men heard or obeyed--and realized with chagrin +that stray bullets had upset them. + +But that mild disgrace of showing nerves, instead of nerve, must be +lived down, and it served to put the newly made veterans the more on +their mettle. + +Almost every day that followed brought its clash with the enemy, and +once or twice the Shirt-tailers came into hand-to-hand struggles, where +it was bayonet and butt, and "fist and skull," and where their barbaric +yell drowned the bugles. They grew accustomed to the thunderous roar +with which the cruisers in the harbor shelled the Insurgent positions in +preparation for their advance, and so day by day, and step by step, the +still parallel lines of the brown men gave back, and those of the +American force hitched forward. + +And in these, by no means idle days, the word went abroad among them +that they were only waiting here to be relieved by fresh troops from the +States, and were to be a part of the force designated to push on to the +Insurgent capital. + +But the rumor went ahead of the actuality. Sometimes there were days of +quiet and even brief informal truces at certain sections of the front, +when the open rice-fields became a common playground. Then the straw +hats that had heretofore bobbed up only to fire and bob down again, +moved about in the open, and watched the _Americanos_ playing baseball. +Once a band came out from Manila, and, when the heat of the day was +spent, gave a concert in the rice-fields, and at its end, as the +national air swelled out and the troops from home stood at attention and +uncovered, the straw hats across the open fields were also doffed. +Though he did not quite understand why, that incident caused a strange +and new emotion to pulse through the arteries of Private Newton Spooner; +an emotion in no way kin to the "pizen-meanness" for which he was justly +notorious. But the courteous enemy never allowed these pleasant recesses +to endure long, and after a lesson or two in treachery they ended. + +At last came the forward movement, the rush into native towns across +their defenses, the pursuit of fleeing insurgents, and the glare in the +sky as the nipa houses went up in flame; and the lying down at night in +bivouac under the stars. In due course followed the end of state-troop +days and the organization of new regiments of United States volunteers. +Yet, this was more a change in the technical than the real, for while +the Fifth Kentucky ceased to exist and the Shirt-tail battalion was no +more, most of the men who had comprised the command were again together +in the Twenty-sixth Volunteers, and the men from the hills still +followed Major Henry Falkins. + + * * * * * + +Young Manly Fulton had returned to Louisville with a degree from Harvard +University and an ambition to become a journalist. At the newspaper +office where he was carried exceedingly near the bottom of the pay-roll, +he was classed as a cub whose value no one took seriously save himself. +In the course of time, it entered the mind of young Fulton that a visit +to the schools and "colleges" of the Cumberlands would make a +"feature-story" of general interest. He heard of young people, and older +people, too, who were struggling to shake off the bonds of a century-old +illiteracy, so he confided to his Sunday editor that herein lay, ready +to hand, a subject with genuine "heart-interest." The Sunday editor +laughed, and explained that this story had been often written, but, if +the reporter wished to ring one more change on an old theme, he might +go--at his own expense. So the young man went to Jackson, and from +Jackson, with mule and saddle-bags, to the college on Fist-fight Creek. +As the principal was showing him over the place, a girl passed through +the library, and the "furriner" was presented. + +The girl looked unwaveringly into his eyes as the professor smilingly +said, "This is Miss Minerva Rawlins; one of our native-born. We are +rather proud of Miss Rawlins." Manly Fulton looked back at her, and his +clean-cut young face for some reason flushed. He had heard much of the +slatternly women of the hills, women who bore drudgery and children, and +early became hags. Now, he found himself being put at ease by a young +creature who carried herself like a goddess, and whose eyes shielded, +behind a naďve reserve, the truant impulse to twinkle into amusement at +his evident confusion. + +Later, the head of the faculty suggested: + +"If you want to see and appreciate the full contrast between the +school-life and home-life of these people, persuade Miss Rawlins to play +guide for you along Troublesome. To-morrow is Saturday, and she will be +riding home. Why don't you ride with her?" + +So, when "Clem's gal" started across the mountains, the young man rode +at her side, listening eagerly to the new point of view that her speech +developed, and marveling at the life he saw about him; a life in which +he seemed to have stepped back a century. It was all wonderful, for +spring had come to the hills and kissed them, and they were smiling with +a smile of blossom and young leaf, and whispering with soft breezes and +the singing of crystal waters. + +For a time, her conversation was, "Yes, sir," and, "No, sir"; for, +though at first it had been himself who was embarrassed, it was now she, +and so, until she discovered how boyish and frank he was, she eyed him +with shy and sidelong glances. But, at last, she began to reveal a +flower-like personality which was altogether charming, strangely +blended with a gravely mature point of view. Her language, partly the +hard-conned "proper speaking" of the school, and partly idiom, amused +him with its quaint out-cropping of Elizabethan phrases, which fell in +tripping unconsciousness from her lips. + +When near sundown they came to her cabin, he felt the girl's embarrassed +eyes on him as her father invited him "to light an' stay all night." And +at table, though his stomach revolted against the greasy and uninviting +fare, he knew that, as she served him standing, her eyes were fixed upon +him. He caught the high-chinned courage of her unapologetic loyalty, +even to swinish blood, and gamely bolted his food with mock relish. + +"God!" thought the boy, as he vainly tried to sleep that night in the +swelter of the over-crowded cabin. "What a life it must be for her! And +yet," he added, "what escape is there?" + +The next day, she took him rambling along creek-beds where she had +friends among the early flowers and ferns and budding things and the +feathered and singing things. She was in an unusually light and gay +mood, and chattered until he felt that he was in an enchanted forest, +and through her talk, which was all of birds and blossoms and woodland +mysteries, he caught brief flashes of insight into herself. + +"Do you know," he suddenly demanded, looking up from a mossy place where +he was gathering violets, "that you are a rather wonderful sort of +person?" + +She stood over him, slender, and simply garbed in a blue calico dress +and a blue calico sun-bonnet. Into her belt she had thrust a cluster of +violets, and her eyes, which were closely akin to their petals, grew +suddenly serious. The corners of her lips drooped in wistfulness. + +"Am I?" she questioned gravely. It was the nearest thing to a compliment +that had come her way. + +"Yes," he asserted, rising to his feet. "Anywhere else in the world +people would be wild about you, and here whom do you see? You know the +verses, 'full many a flower was born to blush unseen.' Don't be one of +them." + +"How am I going to help it?" she asked him simply. He did not respond, +because he was asking himself the same question. But, when that only +visitor from the outside world had ridden away, the place seemed rather +empty and desolate to the girl, and she sat alone in the spring woods +while some voice insistently queried, "How can you help yourself?" She +would marry no man who was ashamed of her people, even if such a man +should come to woo her, and no man whom she would care to marry could +well escape being ashamed of her people. Only one man had she ever known +who seemed to feel for her a sort of reverence; to look up to her as +superior to himself. That man had been very rough and wolfish in his +championship--and that man had been a felon! + +If some man might come who felt that way, and yet who had a living and +enlightened soul; if such a man should say, "I love you--" + +"Clem's gal" bent forward and pressed her fingers against her temples. +"Oh, God!" she whispered. + + * * * * * + +Long ago Malolas had been taken, and the armies of Emilio Aguinaldo were +giving back. Soon was to come the second and longer phase of the +insurrection: that of the guerilla days. But as yet there were still +occasions of battle. + +The enemy lay one day with his trench-tops commanding a steep river-bank +and a deep, swiftly-flowing current of tawny water, adding defense to +his front. Half-way across this stream the broken abutments and twisted +girders of a dynamited railroad bridge showed his preparations for +attack. Yet both river and trenches must be crossed, and the 26th +Volunteers had come, among others, to do it. A small mortar was merrily +tossing shells across the way, but they fell on roofs devised of the +rails from the uptorn track, and fell for the most part harmless. One +small section of the earth-works was unroofed, and from it the mortar +had driven the Insurgents. That troubled the enemy only because it was +the one loop-holed portion of the defenses and consequently more +healthful for riflemen. + +A few strong swimmers might carry a rope across, thought Major Falkins, +and attach its loose end to the bamboo stakes which went up at the very +edge of the trench-embankments, provided they could live long enough. +Killing is quicker work than swimming in a strong current. But, if three +started and one arrived, his fellows could follow in the few leaky +barges that were available. These barges could cross, if at all, only by +rope-ferry. The current set its veto on any use of oars. For such +character of work a "suicide squad" is asked to nominate itself, and +among those who responded was Corporal Newton Spooner, formerly Private +Newton Spooner of the Shirt-tailers, and before that, No. 813 at +Frankfort. + +As the boy stripped off his khaki and stood naked behind a screening +tangle of riverside growth, several machine-guns and the musketry of the +regiment were preparing to give him at least a noisy end. + +Major Falkins stood by, coaching the three swimmers as a trainer coaches +his jockey when the saddling bugle sounds in the paddock. + +"Watch the rope," commanded the major briefly. "Swim in single file, and +not too close together." He turned to Newt, who happened to be standing +nearest him. + +"It's going to be mean work, Spooner," he said in a low voice; "I hate +to order it." + +Corporal Spooner saluted, but his eyes narrowed and glittered with a +light venomously serpent-like. + +"I reckon," he said in a guardedly low voice, which only the major +heard, "you'd like to see me peg out, wouldn't you? But I ain't goin' to +do it. I'm goin' to live long enough to finish a job I've got to attend +to yet. I reckon you know what it is." + +Then he slipped without a splash into the water, for he was to lead the +little procession. The major raised his hand in signal, and the +spattering roar became a solid thunder. Rapid-fire guns, mortar and +Krags played on the earth-works. Every Shirt-tailer was sighting as +though for a sharp-shooter's medal--carefully, deliberately. A scathe of +lead raked the trench tops, under which every brown head went down and +stayed cautiously invisible. With strong, sure strokes the three naked +men shot out into the stream and past its center--seemingly unobserved. +It began to look as though they would gain the other side unseen by the +enemy. But suddenly, from the loop-holed section, came spiteful little +squirts of fire. Against that fire only the mortar could cope--and the +mortar had turned its attention elsewhere. Tiny geysers kicked +themselves up where the Mauser bullets struck and skipped on the water. +The roar from the Shirt-tailers rose in louder indignation, and the crew +serving the mortar was feverishly refinding the range. A few more +strokes, and the three men fighting the current would be safe in the lee +of the steep bank--but the little geysers were multiplying. The third +man suddenly turned his face backward over his shoulder, and shook his +head. He raised a hand as one who waves farewell at a railroad station, +and went down. Corporal Spooner and the other man were reaching out to +grasp the projecting roots that fringed the opposite shore, but, as the +second man crawled up on the bank, there appeared on his naked flesh a +constantly spreading splotch of crimson. Corporal Spooner paused to drag +him under cover, then proceeded to tie the rope and--safe, because of +his very proximity--sat down, panting, to wait. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Two general officers were eye-witnesses to that river crossing; they +chatted about it over the cable with the government at Washington. Major +Falkins, too, who had conceived the plan and crossed in the first barge, +before the mortar got the exact range of the loop-holed breast-works, +was also mentioned in these despatches. Later, both the major and +corporal were given the Medal of Honor, and Newt became Sergeant +Spooner, whereat the Deacon, now battalion sergeant-major, patted him +approvingly on the back. But fate sometimes indulges in satiric +contrasts. One afternoon, when the rush on a trench was over, and had +been so mild an affair that the men felt like a fire company turning out +to a false alarm, the last straggling volley from the routed enemy +dropped both the major and the new sergeant in the stubble. + +Newt's hurt was a shattered arm, but the superior officer had an ugly +hole torn through one lung, over which the field surgeons shook their +heads and whispered things about grave complications. Both were jolted +back in wagons to the railroad. + +Sergeant Spooner knew that his trouble was simply a matter of hospital +inactivity and waiting, but in Manila, as in the field, surgeons talked +anxiously about the battalion chief. Every day an orderly from division +headquarters clattered up to the hospital to inquire after his health, +and the ladies who had followed their soldier husbands as far as Manila +sent flowers. It was finally decided that Major Falkins could only +complete his recovery, if at all, in a more temperate climate, and so he +was invalided back to the States. Newton did not know he was gone until +the transport had sailed, and, when a hospital orderly brought the news, +he said nothing, though his face set itself as he gazed at the whitewash +of the ward wall, and sniffed the antiseptic odor of carbolic acid. + +There were days of convalescence when with his arm in a splint the +mountain boy wandered about the town, which he had, until now, had so +little opportunity to investigate. Each day he would stroll to the north +bank of the Pasig River, where it cut the city in half, and wander among +the strange many-colored sights and pungent reeks of the Chinese bazaars +in the _Escolta_. If these explorations brought him any sense of +wonderment or interest, it was denied expression in his brooding eyes. +Sometimes he would cross the ancient stone bridge, and wander at random +into the walled Plaza de Manila, which had been the town of three +hundred years ago. Late afternoon usually found him on the _paseo_ along +the bay, and there, with the tepid water heaving drowsily at his front, +he would lean until darkness fell, thinking of two things. Somehow, the +face of "Clem's gal" rose often and insistently into his reflections, +and the set of his jaw slackened almost to a smile. Then the thought of +his old grudge would come, and the jaw muscles would stiffen again, +crowding out the softness. + +The grip of the service was strong upon him, and he could salute his +superior without a wince, and stand as respectfully at attention as any +other of his comrades; but he knew that this was only because he had +learned to dissociate the personal self from the military self. His +hatred and the resolve born of it were undying. Generations of Spooners +had made a virtue of hating until it coursed as an instinct with their +blood. He knew now that simply to kill Henry Falkins would be no revenge +at all. True punishment must involve the torture of dread, and for the +major death would fail to attain that purpose. He must, therefore, +devise something more exquisitely painful, and now, having leisure for +reflection, he let his mind run on ways and means. + +The Islands are not a good place for one to brood upon a fixed idea. On +every transport he saw men, backward-bound, whose faces wore the imprint +of melancholia and morbid derangements; men who were climate-mad. + +Yet, the sergeant had another idea at the back of his head to which he +never referred, and while he was waiting to be sent back to his regiment +he might often have been seen sitting on one of the paseo benches, deep +in the study of a spelling book, or arithmetic. + +While these things were going on in Luzon, Henry Falkins was fast coming +back to health. This was natural enough, for each morning the breeze +stirred the chintz curtains of his window in the old mansion near +Winchester, and the breeze was freighted with the heavy sweetness of +honey-suckle. Each morning as he came down to breakfast, he would meet +on the old colonial stairway a girl whose eyes sometimes danced +mischievously and sometimes deepened into sweet serenity. Then in the +dining-room, where Jouett portraits of men in blue and buff gazed down, +this girl would pour his coffee from the old silver pot that these same +ancestors had brought out of Virginia. And the colonel would fall +pleasantly into reminiscences of days when he, too, wore a uniform, +though it was gray, and rode with Morgan's men. + +But there was a better medicine than that for Henry Falkins: the +medicine of joy. Sundry preparations were going forward in the house. +Dress-makers were working like beavers, because when the major had +recovered sufficiently to return to the Philippines, he was not going +alone. There was to be a wedding in the meantime. The girl had been down +to "Bloody Breathitt," and stood with him on a high place in the hills. +She had breathed deep with appreciative delight as she gazed off beyond +the crests of their wooded slopes, where the patriarchal pines and oaks +stood sentinel over the valleys. And there she had ridden the trails +tirelessly, and the rude mountain folk had treated her like a young +queen come from another land, because, with her sesame of graciousness, +she had won her way into the sealed reserve of their hearts. + +Together, the two had gathered the blossoms from the rhododendron, and +down in shaded recesses where the waters whispered over mossy rocks and +the elder-fringed forests closed in until only slender threads of +sunshine filtered through, they had gathered ferns and been children +together. + +At last came the day when they knelt down and rose together from +cushions before an improvised altar in the wide hall, and the colonel +led them all to the wainscoted dining-room. There, in a vintage that had +lain for a generation in the cobwebbed sleep of the cellar, both the old +man from the mountains and the old man from the bluegrass toasted +them--"Even if," as the colonel chortled, "the youngster is a Yankee +soldier." + +When the journey across the continent ended, they had lazy days at sea. +As Henry Falkins gazed at his wife, panama-hatted, white-clad, with the +Pacific winds stirring the one curl that, in persistent truancy, escaped +its confinement to trail across one eye, he wondered if she were really +not too delectable a vision to be real. And his brother officers seemed +to think so, too, so that she reigned on the quarter-deck. + + * * * * * + +But, if the testimony of so astute an observer as General Sherman is to +be accepted, war is not unbroken honeymoon, and in the Islands in 1900 +the general's monosyllabic descriptive was more applicable. At least, +that was true in certain provinces, where the orders of _El Presidente_ +were being carried into effect with ardor and pertinacity. Those orders +were to disperse, live outwardly as _Americanistas_, and under the +semblance of peace to harry, sting and annoy the army of occupation. The +seventy thousand troops now in the Islands were no longer marching and +bivouacking as armies, but, "split in a thousand detachments," were +scattered into garrisons from the China Sea to the Pacific. + +Over beyond the mountains and across the level plantation lands of Nueva +Ecija lay a town from whose center radiated many meager _barrios_ and +villages. It was a town with a small stone church, from whose teetering +cross one arm had been shot away. + +That church had a line of graves--inside its walls, with stones +identically alike--and a history. Here, for almost a solid year, a +garrison numbering at the outset fifty Spanish soldiers had held out +with heroism against a swarming horde of Insurgents equipped with +artillery. The town bore many _recuerdos_ of that long and dogged fight. +The walls of the church showed them in disfiguring scars, like those on +the face of a man who has been mercilessly pitted by small-pox. The +ruins of nipa houses showed them in fallen roof-trees and gaping +breeches. The even ranks of gravestones, within the walls, bore eloquent +testimony in successive dates of death. + +In long, underscoring lines of brutally strong trenches and +transverses, went still more of the record. How snugly and safely the +besiegers had burrowed into the ground, and swept and whipped the +starving garrison inside, was easy to read. + +It was in this town with its church that Henry Falkins with his +battalion was ordered to "wait in heavy harness, on fluttered folk and +wild." The way thither lay over a hundred miles of plain and mountain, +and in that hundred miles, under the extremely capable eyes of Lacuna +and Paolo Tecson, the brown hornets were buzzing with extraordinary and +tireless stinging power. + +The battalion would make the march with a mule train and an escort of +two extra companies, and when it was ensconced in the village which the +war-scarred church dominated, the escort would say farewell and return +to Manila. The extra companies would be picked up for the homeward +journey by a cruiser, which would meantime have steamed with supplies +around the north end of Luzon, through Batingtang Channel, and down the +Pacific coast. After that, from time to time other ships would come and +bring old mail, and look in to see that the garrison was still there and +on the job. It was not a place to take a bride, even though the bride +had crossed the Pacific to be with her husband and held determined views +on the subject of being left behind in her rooms at the Orient. + +Possibly, Henry Falkins told her, she could follow later by sea. + +For three days, the command, with its train of fifty mules pushed on +through a level country, well watered, and seemingly uninhabited. On the +fourth, it struck the mountains, and from that point crawled, scrambled +and panted. Up slopes steep and slippery with untrodden grass, where +hoofs and feet shot treacherously out, the column crept, until the mules +balked, and their burdens had to be transferred to human shoulders; a +half-dozen pack animals shot over cliff edges, and burst like balloons +in rocky gorges below. + +Then, descending into a valley where the grass grew long and lush along +the waterways, and lay brownly parched a little distance back, the +column readjusted its impedimenta, and mended its pace. Sometimes the +heat over the grass simmered in misty waves, and the marching men +clamped their unshaven jaws, and set their eyes eastward. The eyes were +growing blue-circled and weary, and the infantrymen picked up each foot +with a sense of distinct and separate effort. Sometimes from the long +grass at the side broke an unwarned din of rifle-fire, as the "point" +ran into an ambuscade, and then the column closed up and in the merry +response of volleys for the moment forgot its weariness. Sometimes the +parched grass, kindled by unseen and hostile hands, burst into scorching +sheets of flame at the front, necessitating tedious detours. In this +fashion, at the end of ten days, they came to the town with the church, +and found the cruiser awaiting them. The escort returned at once, and +left the First Battalion of the 26th Regiment, United States +Volunteers, to attend to its knitting, with the Pacific Ocean in front +of it and the ragged mountains at its back. + +There was much to be done, for not all of the command was to stay there. +In near-by towns smaller detachments under company officers were to +establish themselves and put the fear of God and the Eagle into +rebellious hearts. That these outlying factions might not be cut off +from headquarters, nerves of telegraph wires must be strung across the +hills and through the _bijuca_ tangles of the _bosque_. These lines +must, in places, follow bolo-cut tunnels through the jungle where the +air was hot and fetid; where one fought for breath and was blinded by +the streaming sweat, and where the stiffness of one's spine oozed out in +flaccid weariness. Also, it proved immensely diverting to the loyal +_amigos_ to creep out by night with a pair of wire-nippers and undo in a +moment what men had moiled through days to accomplish. When these wires +sputtered and fell dead it was usually a fairly good indication that +news of some fresh atrocity would finally percolate, and that a new +"punitive expedition" must fare forth. + +And yet in the town itself, and even in the smaller garrisons clustered +about it, there was no overt act of rebellion--only ghastly news from +the hills and hinterland. + +In these days, former top-sergeant Peter Spooner, now battalion +sergeant-major with the 26th Volunteers, became more than ever a force +in himself. The smattering of Spanish which he had picked up in old +Mexico had become a fluent stream. He was so valuable in a dozen ways +that the semi-clerical work of sergeant-major often fell to other hands, +while Black Pete was out on special detail. His scouting expeditions +were effective of such results that the name of the dark giant became +with the people of the enemy, as it had once been in the Kentucky +mountains, a word to conjure with. In short, Black Pete Spooner was such +a treasure of a "non-com" as gave his superiors food for mess-table +boasting. + +"Spooner," declared his captain, "could command a battalion if called +on. He absorbs detail. He has even picked up the Morse code, and only +yesterday I found him relieving the signal-corps man at the key. That's +an example of his versatile efficiency." + +In many scouting expeditions, Sergeant Newton Spooner likewise won for +himself the bitter hatred of the guerillas. These mountain men had, in +common with the enemy, the ability to become invisible, and often when +they were supposedly being stalked it was found that they were really +stalking. + +So the days passed, and at last a steamer brought fresh supplies and +also Mrs. Henry Falkins, who would no longer be denied. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Months in the isolation of a tropic garrison bring to the minds of men +strange vagaries. When the work is that of hunting down elusive little +traitors, who present faces of friendship by day and develop ingenious +and atrocious deviltries at night, the effects are neither softening nor +humanizing. + +The presence of Mrs. Henry Falkins was to the men of the battalion like +the steady freshening of a clean and fragrant breeze into a miasma. Had +they had their way, they would have set her up, a living image, in the +place of the patron saint above the bullet-scarred altar of the church. +But even saints have defects, virtuous and noble defects perhaps, such +as erring on the side of too great faith in humanity, when humanity is +treacherous. + +One native woman, whose face bore more strongly the characteristics of +some far-off Castilian ancestor than of immediate forbears and mixed +race, came to headquarters, and ingratiated herself with the commander's +lady. When she brought in the week's washing, her smile was a dazzling +flash of milky teeth and lips touched with Spanish carmine. + +And it fell to pass that, though he had always been an immune to +feminine blandishments, the tall sergeant-major was seen frequently +strolling between the _nipa_ houses with the _mestiza_ girl. + +The Deacon, who had always been reserved, even melancholy in the +thoughtfulness of his expression, was in these days more deeply somber +than before. + +Newt Spooner, alone in the command, recognized that there was some +secret gnawing within his kinsman and that it was not a pleasant secret. + +Deaths in the battalion had claimed several lieutenants, and left +vacancies which carried commissions. Sergeant-major Spooner felt the +time ripe for him to cross the line from non-com to commissioned +officer. He could, in the old militia days, have had captain's bars for +the taking. Now it would need the mandate of Washington, but the fact +that nothing was said about it secretly grieved him. His officers from +major down had bragged endlessly of his efficiency, yet the thought that +was constantly in his mind never seemed to occur to them, and he +doggedly refused to suggest it. It should not be inferred that the +non-commissioned giant went sulking about his work. On the contrary, +whatever rancor he felt was inward and unworded, and for that reason the +more dangerous. + +Newt, too, was feeling the influences of marrow-pinching days and +jungle-burrowing and mountain-climbing on chases that came to nothing. +More and more prominently, the haunting presence of his private grudge +thrust itself to the front of his brain and grew sinister. + +The boy held his peace, though he knew that Sergeant-Major Spooner had +received a letter from one of the Insurgent "generals" offering him a +captain's commission "in the service and just cause of the Republic." +Black Pete himself believed that this proffer was in reality an effort +to lure him into the power of the enemy for torture and death, and he +mentioned the incident only to his major. + +Then, one morning, the _mestiza_ girl bade a smiling farewell, which was +also tearful, and was kissed by the major's lady. She was going away, +she explained, to relatives who dwelt in the mountains. She waved her +hand vaguely toward the Cordilleras: "_Mucho_ distance away. No longer +could she see the beautiful seńora, or"--and here her dark lashes +drooped and her olive cheeks flushed--"or the tall, brave _soldado +Americano_." + +Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner walked with her, as far as the outskirts of +the town, and the two talked in low voices, in Spanish. So the Deacon +was the last to bid her farewell, as befitted the man who had most +impressed her heart. + +If the sergeant-major was cast down, he only devoted himself more +industriously to the service, and gave no sign. + +And the service had need of him, for a few days later came word of a +sizeable force of the enemy camped in the mountains, and bent on +mischief. In one of the few loyal villages the _presidente_ had been +murdered and many _Americanista_ houses put to the torch. Swiftly enough +the battalion prepared for pursuit and punishment. Yet to go out in +force would mean failure, so several scouting parties left in advance +of the column. One went under the command of Lieutenant Sperry, and +Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner was included at his own request. + +It was thought natural that the sergeant-major should wish to be one of +the avengers. The native girl had gone that way; might be in that region +where _amigos_ were being slaughtered, and it was perhaps known to the +guerillas that she had loved an American soldier whom they blackly +hated. + +The detail embraced only twelve men, one of whom returned. But even that +one did not return to the town by the church. + +At a considerable native village, some ten miles away and lying at the +edge of the mountains, was garrisoned a platoon of the battalion under +the command of _Teniente_ Barlow. The road between the town with the +church and this subsidiary station was, for that country, good, and the +garrisoned village itself was as safe as a fortress. It was beyond that +the work lay. + +When Mrs. Falkins learned that a company from headquarters would march +at once to follow up what news the scouts brought in, she promptly +announced that as far as the village she would accompany the expedition. +The major raised no objection. It was a pleasant thought that he could +defer his farewell with his wife until he left the edge of the +safety-zone, and meet her there on his return. Mrs. Falkins rode her +native pony along that ten mile-march with a feeling of exhilaration and +pride. These men who marched and fought behind her husband, were to her +all members of a great family, of which he was the head. They were no +longer raw men, "unmade, unhandled, unmeet," but seasoned and tempered +veterans, and her young heart thrilled with pride as she drank in the +morning air, and gazed with fascination at the vivid colors of the +forests and the weird picturesqueness of the thatched hamlets by the +way. + +For five days after their arrival in the village, they awaited news from +the hills. They had hoped for definite tidings before that time, but as +yet the delay had caused no anxiety. The scouts might have found the +reconnaissance a larger enterprise than they had anticipated. So those +at the village invoked the philosophy of patience--and waited. + +It had been some time since Lieutenant Barlow had seen a woman from +God's country. He was one of the men who had come to the regiment with +its reorganization, and now he was glad that he had turned a native +bungalow into a fairly comfortable place for the quartering of his +superior and his superior's wife. There was a small thatched porch, +shaded against the mid-day glare by a grass curtain. From this verandah +when the moonlight flooded the village, one had a view not to be +despised. Across a bare space of so-called plaza stood the house +occupied as headquarters, and now, on the fourth evening after their +arrival, its office stood open-doored and vacant, save for the musician +of the guard, who must remain on duty there until tattoo. + +Everywhere about the village was the ordered quiet of a town well +guarded. The girl sat in a deep wicker chair, while the two officers +nursed their khaki-clad knees on the steps--and all talked of the +States. The moonlight seemed to gush and flow over the face of the +world, and to throw walls and roofs and palms into the fantastic +picture-shapes of a fairy tale. Off between the houses, she could see +the pacing figure of a sentry. Overhead from the nipa roof came the +occasional stirring of a house-snake, and in the long silences, which +the night stillness fostered, they heard tiny sounds of delicate +scurrying footfalls as the lizards scampered across the walls. + +One of them darted out into the yellow light of the open door, and +halted near the lieutenant's knee. There, flashing like luminous jade +and inflating his small crimson throat, he shrilled out his small, +strident voice, and others answered. + +It all seemed very unreal and far away and strangely beautiful. Then to +their ears drifted a call from the sentry line for the corporal of the +guard. + +Athwart the front of the headquarters building lay an unbroken space, +which the moonlight dyed with the deep blue-green radiance of a black +opal. Shortly there appeared into this space two figures, carrying +something which seemed heavy. They moved slowly as though their burden +were a thing that required much care and, as they came nearer and made +their way slowly toward the open door of the headquarters office, it +became obvious that what they bore between them was a very limp human +being. At first, it seemed unconscious and hung sagging in their arms; +but, before they had disappeared through the doorway, it came to life +with a nerve-rasping jargon of delirious sounds and lashed out +inconsiderately with its arms and legs at the men who were giving it +assistance. + +Major Falkins and Lieutenant Barlow rose hastily, and crossed the space +of moonlight. The girl rose, too, but she went into the house with that +sound of raving still in her ears--and sat down, suddenly unnerved. + +In the office, the major and lieutenant found the creature which had, +several days ago, been a private soldier of the headquarters scouts, +lying on the floor in the lemon-colored lamplight. It was mumbling +inarticulate things through parched and cracking lips, and gazing wildly +out of a couple of red embers that had formerly been eyes. Its clothing +hung on it in tatters, and the exposed flesh was bolo-gashed and +briar-torn. This was the one man of the twelve who came back to +report--and came back decorated from torture. The surgeon was already +kneeling on the floor, doing what human skill could do--which was too +little. + +The raving man made tortured efforts to speak, as though the eternal +peace of his soul required it; but, of those bending over him, none +could construe the hoarse gibberish of his swollen tongue and +unbalanced brain. + +Sergeant Newton Spooner had silently entered the office in response to +the major's summons. Now, he stood at attention just within the +threshold, and his eyes were not pleasant eyes as he gazed on the +threshing, disfigured thing, and recognized in him a kinsman. But, if +his face was hard-set and lustful for vengeance, it was hardly more so +than that of the battalion commander, standing by as the surgeon forced +brandy between the teeth of the wrecked face. The physician finally rose +with a shake of his head. + +"It's no use," he announced briefly. "He can't last two hours." + +But to the object of erstwhile human shape came a momentary flash of +revival. He tried to prop himself on one elbow and waved his torn +fingers toward the mountains. From his mouth came incoherent sounds, and +in his eyes burned the desperation of a final effort to rid himself of +some message. Then he reached his hand around to his neck, and they saw +that he bore, pinned to his belt, a package wrapped in the red calico of +which _tao_ breeches are fashioned. + +They removed it, and opened the covering, to find inside a communication +of the sort that scrapes the civilization from men as a coarse cloth +scrapes the tender blush from a peach. + +"This memento we return with compliments," ran the screed in neatly +penned Spanish. "The rest will be dealt with as befits foes of the +Republic. If you follow you will find at Santa Rosa another memento. + +"_Adios, con mucho felicidad_, General José Rosario." + +Major Falkins wheeled to Sergeant Newton Spooner. His face was very +white and stony. "Have your company ready to hike--quick!" His words +were snapped out like the cracks of a mule-whip; but Sergeant Newton +Spooner had saluted and disappeared before the final syllable was +uttered. + +Within the hour, Mrs. Henry Falkins stood at the shell-paned window of +the bungalow and saw the company swinging toward the edge of town with a +step that argued coming events. At their head, guiding them into the +blind trails of the _bosque_, went a native from the village, but he +went with a rope around his shoulders, which was held by a sturdy +private of the advance guard. There was no intention that he should +abruptly disappear into the jungle and carry warning, instead of giving +service as guide. + +At noon the next day, the column had proof that thus far at least they +were following the right trail. The overhead wheeling of buzzards would +have guided them now, even had the native failed of loyalty. + +In the gulch of a stream that ran between tall and tangled banks, the +advance came upon the bodies of the two men who had comprised the +"point," and who had first run into the ambuscade. What the other ten +had done was plain enough. At that first outbreak, they had scattered +into a second slough, running at right angles with the dipping trail. +There they had lain down and taken cover among the scattered rocks, and +there eight of them still lay. It was the only thing they could do, also +it was what the enemy had planned they should do. Major, lieutenant, and +sergeant went over the ground and read the signs. It was quite easy. +They could tell the approximate order in which each had died, by +counting the litter of empty cartridge-hulls about the bodies. + +Then they found one pile of these spent souvenirs in a place where there +was no corpse, and it was perhaps the largest pile of all. That should +be the spot where Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner had come to bay for his +last stand. Probably he had lost consciousness from blood-letting at the +end. Otherwise, he would hardly have been taken alive. + +The bodies were hurriedly buried, and the graves marked; then the column +pushed on, a little grimmer and a little more silent and a little +faster, toward Santa Rosa. + +At dawn, the men of the 26th Volunteers filed into empty streets which +echoed their marching tread. It was like a village of the dead, a place +of empty houses and open doors. No one had waited to explain to the +wrathful avengers. But they found, nailed conspicuously to the front of +a nipa shack in the principal street, a large white sheet of paper, +bearing another note of satiric directions. + +"On the trail which leads from this street, the _bosque_ will, at the +distance of one league, contain one more memento. + +"_Adios, con mucho felicidad_, General José Rosario." + +There was no spoken word, as Falkins, turning from the message, nodded +to the company commander, and the column swung forward. There was no +sound as they marched through the deserted street, except the rattle of +cup and canteen on haversack and the purposeful thud of their own feet +on the hard-beaten earth. + +And beyond the edge of the town, where a sullen-looking carabao bull, +sole occupant, gazed after them, there was still grim silence as they +plunged into the thick growth of the _bosque_ and bored their way into +the country, which at every mile was growing wilder and more impassable. +The eight bodies they had buried, and the one which had doubtless been, +by this time, buried back at the garrison, accounted for seventy-five +per cent. of the detachment which had gone ahead. The three others +included Lieutenant Sperry, of Jackson, and Sergeant-Major Peter +Spooner, and those two had been taken alive. The column was so grim in +its purpose now that it needed no more orders than blood-hounds would +have required. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +At a place where they came upon the ashes of a dead fire, Henry Falkins +halted the command, and, accompanied by a lieutenant and Sergeant Newton +Spooner, undertook some investigations of his own. It was Sergeant +Spooner, led by an inborn instinct which became a compass in the woods, +who discovered the thing they sought. He returned in grim silence to the +officers, and led them to a small clearing in the _bijuca_ tangle. +There, roped upright to a tree, was a body wearing the uniform of a +first lieutenant of United States Infantry. Newt Spooner had found the +"memento." The dead man bore no bolo gashes, and the wound which had +disabled him had been only a bullet through one shoulder. Yet, as the +officers came near, they realized that he had not been dead when he was +placed here. He had stood up, lashed against a slender palm bole, and +died on his feet. Yet even that failed to account for the hideous twist +of acute agony frozen on the dead features. No ordinary torture would +have so stamped the dying visage of such a stoic. The large brown ants +were crawling everywhere, but the full meaning of their presence was to +pass unrealized until Newton Spooner attracted attention. He silently +led them closer and pointed to an amber smear about the lips and +nostrils of the dead man. + +"Honey, sir," he said briefly, in a voice that rasped like a file; "wild +honey. They put that stuff in his nose and mouth, sir. The ants did the +rest." + +The officers turned away, sickened, and after a moment Falkins ordered +briefly. + +"Bring a burial detail, sergeant--and, sergeant," he added, as a vicious +note crept into the timbre of his utterance, "when we come up with these +fellows, we take no prisoners. You understand, no prisoners!" + +For ten days after that, a company of United States Volunteers drove +their way through the mountains and _bosques_ of eastern Luzon, +with the hammer-blows of forced marches. Their faces were the bristling, +unshaven visages of half-wild men, and their eyes bore the inky +cancellation-marks of a fatigue which, in such climates, is courtship of +death. They had been bearing a noonday steam-like heat that parboiled +them and wasted them in floods of sweat. They had marched and slept in +wet khaki when sudden rains drenched the land and the jungle simmered +afterward. A demoniacal desire for a reckoning in full with one José +Rosario sustained them. The chase had resolved itself into a hellish +adaptation of hare and hound, for always ahead of them lay clews and +information, and evidences of recent departures. Always, the wily +guerilla was just out of grasping and crushing distance. In lonely +villages, they found marks of his recent occupancy--with prisoners. In +the hills, they found the ashes of his fires, but himself they never +found. And, as he taunted them, they followed, "as dust-blown devils +go": followed with an artificial and superhuman endurance engendered of +mountain hate and an unassuaged thirst for vengeance. In many brains +queer nightmare shapes rose and had to be brushed aside with a conscious +effort, and in many veins the blood ran hot and feverish. The pursuit +had carried them in a long circle like the flight of a fox, and brought +them back to a point not so many miles from where they had entered the +hills, but as far as ever from their quarry. The pursuing force was too +large. The rest of the way they would rake _bosque_ and hill in +scattered segments, each acting for itself and seeking to fall upon the +enemy while he watched the decoy of the largest detachment. + +Major Falkins and a dozen men, including First Sergeant Newton Spooner, +were working their way through a jungle which seemed impervious to human +progress. For days they had been so working. Step by step they moved +lethargically, and in single file. No military order of formation can be +kept unbroken where men are weaving their tired bodies in and out +through a matted growth of rank _bijuca_ and jungle tangles. Besides, +they moved as men half-asleep and indifferent to consequences, dragging +leaden feet. The course they had taken had yielded never a sign, never +an indication that they had chosen wisely. It led them through an +unpeopled country where the valleys were mosquito-infested and +malaria-ridden, and where drenching rains brought chill to their aching +bones. They forced themselves forward with their hair matted and their +brains dull. Clouds of mosquitoes moved with them. They were steadfast +and resolute men, but they were also half-insane. + +In this fashion, they came to a small, ravine-like channel, which for a +little way ran in the direction they wished to go. Through it they could +walk upright without fighting vines and cane. Experience had taught the +danger of easy ways, but weariness had overcome caution, and for a +furlong they plodded silently. + +Ahead of them, the dry stream-bed, which was giving them momentary +comfort as a roadway, twisted at an angle. Even in their lethargy they +observed one rule of military caution. They walked in file with an +interval of several yards between each two. Eleven of them had passed +out of sight around the turn. Major Falkins, who was number twelve, was +just turning the point, and behind him trailed one other. It was +Sergeant Spooner, who rarely lagged in the rear. Then the heavy +stillness broke into the old familiar thunder, and four men lurched +forward and crumpled down on their faces, as useless henceforth to the +United States of America as burst bubbles. + +"Back here, boys!" yelled Falkins, leaping out of his lethargy into +sudden life. + +"Git behind this twist--damn ye! Git into ther la'rel!" shrieked +Sergeant Spooner in echo, forgetting that the natural cover of the +Islands was not the laurel of the Cumberlands. Falkins, standing at the +turn, became an instant target, and the sergeant saw his campaign hat +fly off spinning; saw the officer set his feet farther apart as one who +braces himself, and heard the spiteful bark of his revolver. The +sergeant himself was unseen, and it suddenly occurred to him that he +might be more effective by remaining so. He saw the men who were still +on their feet falling back on the protecting angle with its steep banks, +firing doggedly as they came, and one by one he saw them drop short of +their goal, except two who reached it only to lie down at the margin of +shelter. He saw the major stand for a moment, shaking his head as the +voices of the Krags died away and only the Remingtons of the enemy broke +the silence. + +Then the major, who no longer had a command, stepped back around the +angle, and sat down on the ground. He laid his pistol on his knees and +wiped blood from his eyes, but, after a moment, as though that posture +were not comfortable enough, he stretched quietly out, with one elbow +under his cheek, and drew up his knees as a child might lie in a crib +when its mother has kissed it good-night. Spooner realized that he alone +of that detail remained an efficient. There was no one to save except +himself--and Falkins. To save himself was easy. He had not yet been +seen. + +Cautiously, the sergeant crawled over and possessed himself of all the +firearms that lay in reach, without revealing himself; then again he +crawled back, burrowing under the overhanging bank. He laid the four +Krags in a row with their muzzles roughly trained above the major's +body, and waited. At his back rose a bank which would confuse and +multiply with echoes any sound. + +Finally, the cautious brown heads appeared, and brown bodies flitted +among the dead, collecting their spoils. Then Newt cupped both hands at +his lips, and let out the mountain yell, a yell which had grown famous +in Luzon. At the same instant, as fast as he could work the triggers +lying grouped before him, he made the rifles speak from their magazines, +as it seemed in unison, and the four reports were magnified by the rocks +into a seeming of volley-fire. Instantly and in frenzied consternation, +the brown men disappeared, and Newt Spooner worked his way forward, +firing as fast as he could until he could peer into the channel. But the +white men there would require no attention, and could benefit by none +save the impossible courtesy of burial. As for the brown men, they were +gone. + +In one body, however, there was still life, and that happened to be the +body of the battalion commander. + +Newton Spooner strapped as many cartridge-belts about himself as he +could carry. Then he pressed his canteen to the lips of Major Falkins, +and began a slow and tedious journey back toward a point ten miles to +the east, where if all went well and every chance favored him, he might +possibly strike the camp of the main detachment to-morrow afternoon. +To-morrow afternoon! For once in his life, Newton Spooner laughed. + + * * * * * + +That night, Major Falkins did not die, but lay raving with a delirium of +fever in the seclusion of the jungle whither the "non-com" had borne +him. And, while he lay tossing, a dark figure sat huddled near-by, +lethargically slapping at mosquitoes and bringing himself back with +heart-breaking effort out of the heavy-lidded temptation of sleep. The +man who so sat, grinned from time to time, and there was the queer, +distorted quality of madness in the grin. + +When Henry Falkins at last opened his eyes, he saw about him only the +dense tangle of the forest, and heard only the bird-voices in the trees. +Slowly a recollection of yesterday came to his mind. He tried to rise on +his elbow, and discovered his feet were tight-bound. Evidently he had +been captured and was now being carried off by the ingenious Rosario to +be filed away for future torture. Then he heard a sound like a strained +chuckle, and turned his eyes, to find himself gazing into a grinning, +lunatic face, which was the face of Sergeant Newton Spooner. + +"Where are we, sergeant?" he inquired with forced composure. "Why am I +tied up?" + +The sergeant's reply was a hyena-like laugh, under which his gums were +exposed beyond his teeth. + +"I reckon," he suggested slowly, "ye mout es well drop the sergeant part +of hit. Thar's jest the two of us left, and hit won't be long twell +thar's jest one." + +The wounded battalion commander settled back on the ground and said +nothing. The demoniacal face of the other was not a face that could be +reasoned with. It was the face of a man whose unhinged reason was +capable of anything but sanity. + +"Ye penitentiaried me oncet," went on the sergeant in dead-voiced +reiteration of an old theme. "Ye sent me thar when ye didn't have +nothin' erginst me. In the penitensherry--" he talked on +half-coherently, half-ramblingly--"a feller jest studies 'bout things +and gits meaner--and hyar hit 'pears like he kin git meaner yit." + +"You must have dragged me away from that ravine," interrupted Falkins, +realizing that they were not where he had fallen, and reasoning rather +with himself than with the other. "You saved me yesterday. Why did you +do that?" + +"Because," retorted the other quickly, with a fierce up-leaping of +passion to his eyes, "because I was savin' my superior officer--not you, +but a man in that uniform--besides ye b'longed ter me. I wasn't a-goin' +ter suffer no nigger ter git ye. Thet would hev been a soldier's death. +Now thar's jest two of us--we ain't soldiers now--we're jest men." + +Falkins lay of necessity outstretched, awaiting the pleasure of his +captor. About him swarmed mosquitoes, and he tossed his head in the vain +effort to shake them off, and slapped viciously at them--for with his +feet trussed there had been no necessity to tie his hands. Above him he +could see patches of blue between the waving palm fronds, and to his +fevered eyes the sky seemed to rock and ripple like a placid sea. Then +he looked at the other soldier, standing at a distance, and the soldier, +too, seemed to wave gently from head to foot as though painted on a +fluttering curtain, but he read in the glowering face that the man meant +to kill him. + +"You fool!" he muttered. "You poor damned fool!" + +He spoke in a voice of lassitude, as though his interest in the matter +were academic and dilute. In his brain, the tide of fever was rising +afresh, and this time it stole on him with the warmth of a comfortable +narcotic. + +But Newt Spooner went on, more steadily now, though with no faltering of +determination. + +"I've waited the hell of a time.... I told ye my chanst would come.... I +told ye, when ye tried ter play a damn' hero there at 'Frisco, thet I'd +git my chanst. Ef I'd kilt ye then, ye'd hev hed all ther best of hit, +but now hit's different. Now I kin make ye pray fer mercy--an' not git +none." + +"Kill me, and be damned to you!" snapped the bound man, for a moment +roused out of growing stupor into a peevish irritability. "I'm no more +afraid of you now than I was then." + +"I reckon," the boy spoke very deliberately and impressively, "I reckon +I knows a way ter make ye skeered." It had been a long time now since +Newton Spooner had talked in the uncouth vernacular of the hills, but +the Newt Spooner of this morning was, it seemed, a man relapsed; a man +from whom had slipped all the changes that the months had wrought. He +came slowly and unsteadily over, and squatted on his haunches above the +prostrate figure. He drew one hand from behind him, and held it out. + +"I found a wild bee gum down thar," he went on in a dead, level tone. +"This hyar's wild honey. Thet-thar idee of givin' the ants a party +hain't so damned bad atter all, is it?" + +The major rolled over and presented his back to his enemy. He laughed +and his tormentor did not know that it was the laughter of +uncomprehending delirium. To Newt, it seemed a misplaced sense of humor. + +"Wake me up for breakfast," murmured the major. "I want to take a nap +now." + +Later, Falkins awoke to a lucid interval, and saw nothing of his mad +companion. But gradually his mind began to collect scattered fragments +of memory, and the thing he had laughed at rose up to torture him. He +remembered the threat now, and he remembered the dead face of the man +they had found tied to a tree. He lay alone, shivering in weakness and +harried by a terror he would not have cared to confess. An ant crawled +over one wrist, and he leaped up, choking off a wild scream. It seemed +that he could feel them crawling and stinging in thousands through his +nostrils and nibbling at his brain. His fever would return, but for the +present he lay sane and clammy with chill. + +When the cool of the evening came, Newt reappeared. But his face, too, +had lost its maniac glare. It was the face now of a man unutterably +weary--as though all day he had been in some great travail. + +"I reckon we mout as well be hikin'. Kin ye walk?" he inquired curtly. + +"I'm not going to walk," retorted the officer belligerently. "This is as +good a place to die as any." + +"I ain't goin' ter hurt you," said Newt Spooner in a tired voice. "I +reckon the time ain't come yet, after all." + +"When will it come?" demanded the other, amazed beyond belief at this +sudden change of front. + +"Thet's my business. I hates you worse than pizen ... but I can't hurt +you while we're both wearin' this uniform. It beats hell how much a man +gets to thinkin' about a damn' pair of government breeches!" He stopped +off as if in embarrassment. Then he added: "Besides, I'm beholden to +your wife. She gave me a lift once on the high-road." + +Two days later, just as the platoon, flushed with a success which the +others had missed, was preparing to break camp for the day's march, two +men, both gibbering foolishly, both shambling on unsteady feet, +tattered, thorn-torn and scalded with fever, dragged themselves, in the +locked embrace of drunken men, up into sight of the outposts, and +collapsed. One wore a major's uniform, and one had on his sleeve what +was left of a sergeant's chevrons. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +The policy of splitting the command into bits, and leaving one platoon +to carry on the seeming of the full force, had brought both disaster and +success. The main body had taken a middle course upon which the smaller +details might--theoretically--fall back, and on either side squads had +scouted. While the men under Falkins were being misled and trapped, +another detachment had slipped fortuitously upon a scouting party of the +enemy, and, being less fatigued by reason of an easier course, they were +stealing through the _bosque_ with unabated caution, and not one of that +scouting party escaped alive except two who were captured. The +detachment rejoined the platoon, and in view of the spirit in which the +main command received these prisoners, they finally laid aside their +show of sullen stubbornness and talked volubly. + +Not only did they talk, under the effective persuasion of their captors, +but they acted. They agreed to lead the _Americanos_ to the camp of +General Rosario, which they said was pitched in a particularly +inaccessible part of the mountains only a day's march away. Then the +command, which had for so long been following a fox-fire, rose up, +invigorated by the prospect of final success, and all day they slipped +forward through trails which they could not have found alone. They +marched with the swiftness of the final spurt, and at nightfall lay +under cover, feasting their eyes on a column of smoke which rose from a +canyon where the enemy lay in fancied security. The captives had done +their work well, once they had undertaken it, but the onslaught must be +sudden. There must be no time given to slaughter the American prisoners +whom Rosario was carrying north with him as a present for Aguinaldo. + +They could but admire the sagacity with which the enemy had selected his +lair. They must attack through two high-walled gorges where machine-guns +waited to mow them down. But the _Americanos_ meant to reach those guns +before they were discovered, and after that the impregnable strong-hold +would become a trap without exits. + +The column had therefore divided, each section taking a guide. The +guides, with bayonets at their backs as reminders of their mission, had +gone forward and with passwords bespoken the sentries, whose voices had +been choked off in the pitchy darkness before they could give outcry. + +Then came the mountain yell, but it came only from the narrower gorge, +and it was accompanied by musketry which the steep walls echoed and +re-echoed. The flood of flight surged into a wave of disorganized rout +toward the other opening--where it fell back in broken spray from volley +and bayonet. Useless now were the machine-guns; worse than useless the +impregnable walls of rock. The insurgent forces, remembering their red +iniquities, asked no terms or quarter, but hurled themselves on the +bayonets and went down in the close chaos of bolo and clubbed musket. +"And luckiest of them that fell, were those of them that died." + +It was a little keyhole picture of red and black inferno, while it +lasted, but it did not last long. + +Yet, of General Rosario and his white prisoners there was no trace. That +wily leader had gone on with a small escort before nightfall, and no one +was left to tell what direction he had taken. + +So it happened that when the two survivors of the ambuscade came +tottering into the camp which they had hoped to reach much sooner, they +found the main detachment just leaving. Had it not been belated by the +delay of the successful expedition into the hills, it would have passed +this point twenty-four hours ago, and the half-dead refugees would have +been too late. + +It had taken Henry Falkins and Newt Spooner two days instead of one to +cover that ten miles of _bosque_. They had come staggering, sometimes +gibbering, and rarely were both of them sane. Sometimes they raved in +duet, but during the first day Newt kicked and pummeled his superior +forward as long as he could walk. After that, he carried, dragged and +rolled the limp figure, obsessed only by the fixed idea that he had a +package to deliver somewhere "over yon." Frequently he forgot that the +package was a thing of life. Frequently, too, he madly beat it and swore +at it, but always he worked it forward, falling time after time to rise +again and stumble ahead. Then Newton Spooner became a thing without +consciousness, and a faint spark of realization flickered back into the +murk of the major's brain, and laid on his sick soul the same necessity. +That day, or part of it, he dragged and carried and kicked. At last, +with neither fully conscious, they linked arms about each other's +shoulders, gazed at each other with wild, agonized eyes, mumbled at each +other with swollen tongues, and shambled, crawled and hitched along +together. + + * * * * * + +Between two cots in the village at the mountains' edge the wife of Major +Falkins vibrated like a pendulum for several days, and when the +commanding officer's tongue became again a thing which he could lift and +command he told her of his rescue by the boy who had taken a blood-oath +against him, but he told nothing of the episode in which the sergeant +had debated the fulfilment of his vow. + +Later, when the company had marched back to its headquarters in the town +with the church, Mrs. Falkins drew a glowing picture of heroism in a +letter which she wrote home to the States. The colonel, her father, in +due time received it, and it found its way into news column and +editorial, and was duly read by many persons. + +"Clem's gal," no longer at the mountain college, but studying at the +State University in Lexington with the scholarship that she had won, was +one of the many. She read in the little dormitory room overlooking the +quiet campus. She had come here to prepare herself for a return to the +mountain school as a teacher, and when next she went back to the +Cumberlands the paper went with her, that the prophet might have honor +at home. + +It was October, and she had been summoned by the illness of her +step-mother. Now, as the girl rode along the creek-bed roads, the hills +were flaunting their watch-fires of autumn, and the horizon wore its +veil of Indian-summer softness. Clem had met her in Jackson with his +nag, and she was riding, mountain-fashion, on a pillion behind him. Her +father was battered and disheveled, and about his clothes clung the +smoke-house odor of the windowless cabin with its log fire, but there +also clung about the vaulting slopes and ruggedly beautiful ravines the +fragrance of the fall, and the girl could not find it in her heart to +feel gloomy, even though she was exchanging the wholesome life of the +university for the squalor of the cabin. Thanks to Newt, she had her +room, where she could withdraw as into her own castle. She felt almost +gay, and, as she thought of the room which a rude, sullen-eyed boy had +reared for her with his calloused hands, her eyes grew soft like the +horizons. That boy, too, had been away into the world, and had become a +hero. Presumably he was mending his broken life. + +The old horse plodded slowly and sometimes the girl slipped down and +walked alongside. Clem had little conversation after he had told how +"porely" the step-mother was. "He reckoned hit all come about from +gittin' dew-pizened." But, as they made the trip, the girl recited to +him the news from the far-away islands. + +The man listened stolidly, and at the end inquired: + +"Did I onderstand ye rightly, M'nervy? War Henry Falkins ther feller he +saved?" + +When the information was confirmed, he ejaculated in wonderment: + +"Well, doggone my ornery skin! Hit seems like jest yestiddy thet Newty +lit out acrost these-hyar hills, hell-bent on lay-wayin' Henry Falkins +fer a-penitensheryin' him." + +Then Minerva remembered the lad's face when she had told of Henry +Falkins awarding her medal, and for the first time she understood. + + * * * * * + +Back in the town with the church the months went by with routine of +garrison duty and periods of fevered activity. + +The energetic Rosario had for a time lain dormant after the paralyzing +blow which had obliterated so large a portion of his command, but as the +natives began to evince a growing confidence in the protecting hand of +the American government, the general bestirred himself, and once more +tidings of his atrocities drifted into headquarters. During these months +there passed between Sergeant Newton Spooner and his major no reference +to the morning in the jungle when the last echo of the old threat had +found expression. + +It was as though, on this subject, the lips of each were sealed by oath, +but Sergeant Spooner went about his work with a smart and soldierly +alacrity that kept the men of his company always on their toes. When +there was trying work to do the commanding officer found himself +instinctively turning to that company, and since the company responded +to its top-sergeant like a muscle to a nerve, that meant that he turned +to Newton Spooner. + +Then came an epidemic of outrage. + +Villages with _Americanista presidentes_ went up in smoke. Haciendas of +loyal Spaniards and Ilacanos were raided, and their people put to the +bolo. With the wild stories of Rosario's activity that drifted in, there +came persistently the fame of a white man who stood at the Filipino's +right hand, giving him counsel. The rumor added that this man was a +deserter from the American army. The truth or falsity of that allegation +did not particularly interest the 26th Volunteer Infantry. The 26th from +its Shirt-tailed beginnings had been stainless of the reproach of +desertion. If other commands had been less fortunate it was not their +affair. But it was very much their affair that, when they ran down a +band of guerillas and closed with them, they encountered more numerous +casualties, because someone had been teaching the brown men how to fight +and shoot as they had never in their lives fought and shot before. + +It very closely concerned the 26th Volunteer Foot that the game of war +was being taught their foes by a renegade who had learned it under +their own colors. + +But the insult, set upon injury, came one day with a grim humor that was +to have an even grimmer sequel. + +The telegraph operator at a near-by village was passing the time of day +with the S. C. man at the headquarters key. Suddenly the instrument went +dead with a splutter, and, while the headquarters operator tested and +cursed, it remained stubbornly dumb. The line had been cut again. + +Before a detachment could be despatched to follow the wire to the break, +the instrument set up a buzz, and the buzz became Morse code. As the +astonished operator read the dots and dashes this message was clicked +out to him: "General José Rosario, in passing, presents his compliments +and hopes to report other mementos in near future." + +Obviously the wire had been grounded and the message sent by the enemy +himself at some point where he had tapped it with a field-transmitter. +That must be the work of the renegade--presumably a Signal Code +deserter, and yet though the _bosque_ was combed for days by peeved and +eager soldiery, no sign of a hostile force was found. Newton Spooner and +a squad of scouting men came upon a muddy spot in the _bijuca_ tangle +where a number of feet had trod, and, though the top-sergeant noted the +print of a service boot, he said nothing of the circumstance--at the +time. + +But while Newt said nothing he thought much. Keeping to himself, he was +fighting a battle which one way or the other must prove decisive in his +nature. He knew that he was facing a conclusion which could not be +lightly turned aside, and which could not be met without harrowing his +soul. To fail to face a certain specter which had unexpectedly arisen +would be to brand himself in the tribunal of his own inner consciousness +as a traitor to the service. To face it and accept the consequences that +might, and probably would, arise, would be to put behind him and trample +under foot the code of the mountains, and to confess that all his +preconceived ideas of life had been distorted and without value. + +Two deep-rooted impulses were wrestling with a ferocity that made the +boy's soul a battle-ground, torn, scarred and utterly miserable. The +chaplain had preached a sermon on Golgotha, and had told how the Master +had gone to the Place of a Skull, and had fought there with the spirit. +Newton Spooner was not the man for prayer or fasting, yet he fasted +because his palate revolted against the rations, in the torture of +indecision that racked him. + +And as he could not eat, so also he could not sleep and the wide eyes +which stared at the walls beyond his cot were eyes that burned with +feverish misery. Whether or not one is to become an Iscariot is a +problem that must bring its agony, an agony beyond the appeasement of +thirty pieces of silver. But when the problem so complicates itself that +instead of being merely a problem it is a dilemma, and not only a +dilemma, but the dilemma of choosing between proving an Iscariot to +one's code or to one's country, the matter is one which may well +unbalance a brain already depleted and jumbled of perspective by +steaming jungles and the assaults of the tropics on one's sanity. + +There was no one to whom Sergeant Spooner could go for counsel. To every +man comes one black night that tests the metal of his soul, and makes or +brands him with its result. It is a night when the furies ride +shrieking, and when the border between the man and the madman wavers. He +may not know it, but the dawn that comes at the end of such a night +breaks on a soul that has accepted its damnation or has liberated itself +and transformed itself. + +About the garrison, Sergeant Newton Spooner bore a face in which the +eyes were sunken and about whose lips ran deep lines of travail. In his +duties he was prompt and smart, but that was the ingrained training, +which had reached a state where it responded automatically to routine. +As he tossed on his cot, he suffered agonies and when he fell asleep it +was not for rest, but for nightmare. His dreams were harassed with a +bitter problem and what the end was to be hung in the balance. Dreams +are precarious and lawless, yet it was in the end a dream which decided +him. + +Just before he was aroused one morning he fell into a feverish slumber, +following a wakeful night, and to him, as to many men before him, a +vision came. + +Minerva seemed to stand before the regimental band at dress-parade. She +waved the flag and said, in a voice which no one else heard: + +"The soldier serves his colors." + +It happened that about the same time the _mestiza_ girl whom +Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner had honored with his attentions, before he +had fallen into the villainous hands of Rosario, came back to the town. +She did not remain long, and her face was sad. She had come, she +confided to Mrs. Falkins, hoping to see the great, brave soldier, and, +when she was told of how he had died, her sobs tore her until the +spectacle of her grief was insupportable. + +Then Newton Spooner did an unprecedented thing. Unversed as he was in +the ways of courtship, he dogged the steps of the _mestiza_ girl, +fetching and carrying for her with doglike devotion. + +And, since he was willing, instead of pressing his own suit, to sing the +praises of the late sergeant-major, she let him sit at the threshold of +her nipa house, and gaze at her while she sewed. When she went away and +Sergeant Spooner asked a brief leave of absence to accompany her on a +part of her return journey, the men of the garrison shook their heads +and announced that they would be damned. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Newt Spooner was gone a week, though he had only announced it as his +purpose to escort the girl as far as a near-by village. + +In three days more, according to the articles of war, his name must be +dropped from the company roll, and his status become that of death or +desertion. Even if he came back at once, he must face the lesser charge +of absence beyond leave. + +When the sergeant did return, he bore the marks of jungle travel, and as +he reported to his company commander, his face indicated that his +explanation would not be merely personal. + +Yet Sergeant Spooner was secretive, and asked permission to guide a +small force into the hills. He said that he had come upon evidence which +would not wait, and he had, therefore, taken the liberty of following it +up independently. He believed he could lead a detachment to a place +where a party of insurgents were in hiding, and--at this his captain sat +up and took notice--although it was a small party, he had information +which led him to believe the renegade might be one of the number. + +But for such an enterprise Newton Spooner's superiors required no +urging. The sergeant said that no considerable force could hope to reach +the place unheralded, so two picked squads stole out that same evening, +and before dawn of the third day (for they marched only at night and lay +hidden while the sun shone) were creeping through the long grass upon a +native farm where two nipa houses proclaimed the presence of humanity. +They crept cautiously, for though the place had all the seeming of +private and peaceful domiciles, they had learned to distrust appearances +and to trust Sergeant Newt Spooner's judgment. The spot was very wild +and desolate, lying remote from any village. In the gray mists between +night and morning it seemed a land of ghosts, with broken hills and +jungle closing about it. + +As daylight crept to the east, soldiers stood silent and patient at each +door and window of each house. It was a strange disposition of troops +about thatched houses that lay soundless and wrapped in profound +slumber. The lieutenant who had come in command stood at the right of +the front door of the larger house, and over against him, on the left, +stood Newt Spooner. But each stood with back pressed to wall, so +flattened against the uprights that, in that dim light, one coming out +of the door would pass them by unseeing. And at each of the other +openings the watchers were likewise flattened as though they had been +figures in bas-relief fantastically wrought by the builder. + +They stood without sound or movement, until, as the light strengthened a +little, the door opened and a _mestiza_ girl in slippered feet and +partial attire came out, carrying an earthen water-vessel. As she +crossed the threshold, looking neither to right nor left, New Spooner's +tight-pressed palm shot out and silenced her carmine lips. The officer +recognized the girl. He had himself recently turned away unable to watch +her sobs for her dead lover, and now he felt an impulse to resent this +rough indignity at the hands of the sergeant. But something in the +sergeant's face gave him pause, and at the same moment Newt Spooner +sternly whispered to his prisoner in Spanish: + +"Call him--call him, I tell you!" + +For an instant, the girl stood trembling from head to foot, with dumb +agony in her eyes. It was evident that she was facing the hardest crisis +of her life, and that terror was dominant. As Newt bent forward with +threatening hardness in his relentless face, she shrank back against the +wall, bowing her head in forced assent, and with the soldier's strong +hand still close enough to stifle any unwished-for outcry, she called in +quavering, heart-broken Spanish: + +"Beloved, come to me. Come _pronto_!" + +There followed, at once, a sound of bare feet from inside, and a +gigantic, half-clad figure appeared anxiously at the door. It was the +figure of a white man; and, as the lieutenant caught its shoulder, and +threw his revolver muzzle to its broad chest, he found himself looking +into the grave eyes of former Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner, late of the +26th Volunteers. + +For an instant, the officer stood too dazed to credit the testimony of +his eyes, but, while the Deacon glanced down the barrel of Newt's +leveled rifle, and shrugged his shoulders with a low oath, the officer +realized that he had under his hand the mysterious renegade. + +And then, as the deserter, still gazing into the flinty face of his +kinsman, raised his hands in surrender, he coolly turned toward the +house, and shouted back in excellent Spanish: + +"General, we are captives. Resistance is useless." + +In answer to that message, there shortly appeared, framed in the door, +the startled countenance of the notorious Rosario himself. Once too +often, he had trusted himself with those inconsiderable escorts which +had enabled him to pass from place to place without attracting +attention. + +The detail made its march back to headquarters, taking its prisoners +with it, in a semi-dazed condition. Against Rosario they felt little +vindictiveness, now that he was captive to their arms. But this other, +this sergeant-major who had organized most of them into soldiery back +there in the Appalachian hills, with him there was a ghastly difference. +He had been a hero, mourned as lost. He had taken the pay of the service +and held its highest warrant--and he had been false to his salt, for +those tin bars which they roughly stripped from his shoulders. + +But, if the command was struck sick with astonishment, Black Pete +himself treated them to no show of emotion. He had already considered +and weighed what it meant to desert to the enemy in time of war, and he +had been taken in attendance upon the enemy's district leader, wearing +the enemy's livery. He was already, in effect, dead, and he meant to +maintain the stolid silence of death. + +And so the detachment marched into headquarters with the grim silence of +a funeral cortčge, though as yet the corpse walked upright and on its +own feet. + +No lips were tighter set, and no face more stonily expressionless than +that of Sergeant Newton Spooner. His was the capture, his the +credit--and, in part, the shame. Between himself and the man who must +hang existed the bond of one blood and one name. The smirch upon the +regiment was likewise a smirch upon that blood and name. + +The struggle in himself had begun from the moment when he found the +print of a large boot in the mud, and the disgrace to the service and +the regiment had come home to him ... the one form of disgrace which he +had ever understood. But the mental sweat was not yet over. It must have +its ugly culmination at general court-martial, and when that time came +he, Newt Spooner, must say the words upon which conviction would +indubitably follow. He knew that in its hideous fulness, had known it +from the start, and yet, when the hour came and he took the stand to +testify, no voice could have been steadier, and no gaze more unflinching +than that with which he held the eyes of the accused. + +But the gaze with which the Deacon met his was in no wise weaker. As +Black Pete listened to the proceedings in which his life-sands were +running out, his eyes were thoughtful and perhaps a shade wistful, but +undrooping, and unwavering. + +The defendant testified that, when he was captured, they offered him +choice between death and a captain's commission. He had chosen the +latter. They took him north, and he had talked with Aguinaldo in person. +The "President" had received him as an officer and a dignitary. He had +beguiled him with hopes of foreign recognition and a filmy vision of +ultimate success. The Deacon had held during his life one goal and one +ideal. His dream was leadership. He had tired of the warrant of the +"non-com." He wished to sit in council with men of higher rank. The +experiment had failed. He made no plea. + +The hearing before G.C.M. came after the regiment had left the town with +the church. It was on a larger parade ground that the united battalions +were drawn up at sunset, and the regimental adjutant stepped a pace +forward to the colonel's side and "published the order," which announced +that Peter Spooner was "to be hanged by his neck till dead." + +The lines stood silent as the adjutant's words were read. Black Pete at +"the front and center," to be seen of all men, presented a picture quite +as uncompromising as he had ever presented before. His contemplative +gray eyes bore straight to the front as he stood at attention, and in +them slept a thoughtful expression, as though they were looking off +beyond horizons hidden to other men, and already piercing the opaque +things of life and death. + +And Newt Spooner gave his company front a motionless, sternly impersonal +figure upon which to gaze. In neither condemned nor informer was there a +vestige of tremor as the officers came to the "front and center" and the +formation ended. + +In the wet mists of a rainy morning, they escorted Black Pete to a +scaffold around which ranged, in hollow square, the regiment he had +betrayed--and there they hanged him high as Haman. Brooding hills looked +down, rain-shrouded, and to their crests at the last moment the +condemned man raised his eyes. + +There was silence, save for the pelting of rain on iron roofs, until it +was broken by noise of the falling trap and the low whip-like snap of +the tautened rope. Then the burial detail went out and did its work. +Sergeant Newton Spooner returned to his routine duties with a grim +taciturnity which did not invite conversation. + + * * * * * + +It was at Manila, many months later, that Major Henry Falkins again +called Sergeant Spooner to battalion headquarters, and spoke with a +certain embarrassment: + +"Spooner," he inquired slowly, "have you come to realize that one man +may bear testimony against another for reasons other than spite?" + +A slow flush, brick-red and hot, spread over the bronzed face of the +non-commissioned officer. + +"I've come to understand a good many things, sir," he replied gravely. +"And I've paid for learning them." + +"We'll be mustered out before long," suggested Henry Falkins, "but I +won't be long out of uniform, I hope. I'm going to stay in the service. +Once I promised you a chance--" + +Newt Spooner grinned. + +"I reckon the uniform's good enough for me, too, sir," he interrupted. +Then he added, with a diffidence which all expression of deep feeling +brings to the mountaineer: "I reckon, sir, as long as I can serve under +you I'll go on reënlisting." + +Falkins was a mountaineer, too. He hastily changed the subject. + +"Commissions from the ranks are going to men less capable than you--but +examinations must be passed. If you'll study, Spooner, I'd like to get +behind you and help." + +"I've never spoken of that to any man, sir, but I've been thinking about +it," announced the sergeant diffidently. "I've been studying for +eighteen months." + + * * * * * + +Not far from the corner of Main and Limestone Streets in Lexington, +Kentucky, and almost in the shadow of the Phoenix Hotel, a poster on the +sidewalk and a flag from an overhead window proclaimed that "Men were +wanted for the United States Army." Out of the door of the building so +decorated, one spring morning, when the trees were in delicate new +leafage, came a sergeant attached to the recruiting station. He was +selected, as many of these men are, for his soldierliness of appearance. +Such men are the best advertisement the service can use, and it uses +them. + +The sergeant was not overly tall, and, though spare, he was by no means +lean. His shoulders swung back squarely, and his chest, rounded and +strong like a barrel, bore on its olive-drab blouse a sharp-shooter's +cross and the Medal of Honor, which must be bestowed by an Act of +Congress. + +His face was clear-cut and bronzed by tropic sun and ocean winds. In +fine, as the sergeant walked to the corner, casting his eyes up and down +Limestone Street, he was an inspiriting figure of a man--and a soldier +man. He had for the time nothing better to do than to stroll, and as he +strolled a flicker of reminiscent amusement brought a pleasant grin to +his firm lips. Sergeant Newt Spooner was thinking of the black-clad, +lowering-faced boy who years ago hiked through this town, bent on +assassination. + +As he went along the historic street, where every square held traditions +of ante-bellum days, he began to encounter other strollers, college lads +in sweaters and caps, and college girls with books. But his eyes finally +focused their gaze on a young woman who came out of a house and also +turned up the street, walking ahead of him. She was a slim girl in +simple gingham, but in her cheeks was an apple-blossom glow and +delicacy, and her movements were informed with the lithe grace of +out-of-doors. Newt wanted to overtake and accost her. He wanted to see +if she would recognize him, changed as he was, as quickly as he had +recognized her, who was even more changed. + +For this girl looked like some splendid young blossom that had come to +flower in open woods, and the soldier saw, with mingled pride and +twinging jealousy, that all the boys and men who passed took off their +hats with frank ardor in their eyes. This was such a metamorphosed +Minerva that he fell into shyness and delayed announcing himself until +they had reached the stone gate-posts of the rolling campus, where, +under the maples, the macadam road wound up to the college buildings, +and the old field-gun of civil-war days looked out over the cadets' +drill-ground. + +There he plucked up courage to call in a low voice, "M'nervy!" and at +the mountain pronunciation, coming unexpectedly from behind, the girl +wheeled and stood for a moment, confronting him in a pretty picture of +delight and astonishment, while a warm color stole into her cheeks. + +"Newty!" she cried, as she held out both hands in greeting. "Where in +the world did you spring from?" + +They stood there under the maples for a while, and the boy made her talk +of herself, and, while they talked, a man, wearing the uniform of a +lieutenant of infantry, came down the walk. He was a likeable-looking +fellow, well set-up and soldierly, but very young. From his campaign hat +to his polished puttees, he was new, new like the lately minted coin +that has not long circulated. Lieutenant March was not long from the +"Point," and he was at present stationed here as Commandant at the +University. The sergeant, with his back turned that way, was deep in +conversation with the girl, so that, as he heard a pleasant voice +saying, "How are you, Miss Rawlins," he turned just in time to see the +officer's lifted hat, and to catch the smile on his lips. But his +soldier instinct was now second nature, and in the same glance he saw +the "U.S.A." of the collar-ornaments. + +At once, Sergeant Newt Spooner stood at attention, his heels together +and his hand at his hat-brim in salute. The officer, too, was taking in +those things which military men observe. He saw the service stripes and +the two medals on the breast, and his eyes brightened. As he returned +the salute he cheerily inquired: + +"What command, sergeant?" + +"Fifty-ninth Infantry, sir; late of the 26th Volunteers." + +"Here on leave?" + +"Recruiting detail, sir." + +The officer's eyes were dwelling on the decorated breast. + +"Medal of Honor man," he said. "What service was that, sergeant?" + +The girl, whose less-trained eyes had not recognized the import of the +little metal disc, flushed with pleasure. Newt flushed, too. It irked +him to talk about himself; but the military ethics were ingrained, and +he still stood upright, and answered respectfully, but as briefly as +possible: + +"The islands, sir. Province of Nueva Ecija." When the lieutenant had +gone, the sergeant looked down in an embarrassed fashion at the white +road. + +"Minerva," he said, "I don't know whether it interests you, but I'm +studying pretty hard myself. That's why I asked for this detail. That +and one other reason. I'm only a non-commissioned officer, and you're +almost a school-teacher. I'm on the wrong side of the line, but I've +applied for an examination, and, when this term of enlistment is up I've +got a good chance of a commission." He saw her looking at his medal, and +heard her saying: + +"I should think you would have, Newty." + +"Oh," he hastened to tell her, "I mean that I've got an influential +friend, who's going to help me." + +"Who is that, Newty?" she demanded; and, as he answered, the young +sergeant flushed. + +"The best soldier in the service, Colonel Henry Falkins." + +The girl looked down at the pavement and then up at the tender green of +the maples. Her only reply was a low, "Oh!" but her voice said more, and +presently she added a question: + +"You said, Newty--" her eyes now held a challenging twinkle as she +spoke--"that there was one other reason why you asked for this--what do +you call it?--oh, yes, I know, this detail. What was that reason?" + +The sergeant raised his face, and held her eyes with a steady gaze, +until her own eyes fell, and her cheeks grew more rosy. + +"That reason," he announced boldly, "is that I want plenty of chance to +tell you what the reason is." + + +THE END + + + * * * * * + + +JOHN FOX, JR'S. + +STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS + + +_THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE._ + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree +that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the pine +lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and when he +finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the +_foot-prints of a girl_. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and +the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a madder +chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine." + + +_THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME_ + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." It +is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which often +springs the flower of civilization. + +"Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he +came--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, +seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and +mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming waif, +by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in the +mountains. + + +_A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND._ + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of +moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and the +heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight." Two +impetuous young Southerners' fall under the spell of "The Blight's" +charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in the +love making of the mountaineers. + +Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some of +Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives. + + * * * * * + +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS + +THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY + + +_WITHIN THE LAW._ By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. + +Illustrated by Wm. Charles Cooke. + +This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for +two years in New York and Chicago. + +The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge directed +against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three +years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent. + + +_WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY._ By Robert Carlton Brown. + +Illustrated with scenes from the play. + +This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is suddenly +thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her dreams," where +she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers. + +The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in +theatres all over the world. + + +_THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM._ By David Belasco. + +Illustrated by John Rae. + +This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield, as +Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success. + +The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful, +both as a book and as a play. + + +_THE GARDEN OF ALLAH._ By Robert Hichens. + +This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit +barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness. + +It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has +been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. + + +_BEN HUR._ A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace. + +The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance on a +height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. The +clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect +reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere +of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tremendous dramatic +success. + + +_BOUGHT AND PAID FOR._ By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow. + +Illustrated with scenes from the play. + +A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created an +interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid +in New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor. + +The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments which +show the young wife the price she has paid. + + * * * * * + +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS + +Original, sincere and courageous--often amusing--the kind that are +making theatrical history. + + +MADAME X. By Alexandre Bisson and J. W. McConaughy. Illustrated with +scenes from the play. + +A beautiful Parisienne became an outcast because her husband would not +forgive an error of her youth. Her love for her son is the great final +influence in her career. A tremendous dramatic success. + + +THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. + +An unconventional English woman and an inscrutable stranger meet and +love in an oasis of the Sahara. Staged this season with magnificent cast +and gorgeous properties. + + +THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By Lew. Wallace. + +A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, presenting with extraordinary +power the siege of Constantinople, and lighting its tragedy with the +warm underglow of an Oriental romance. As a play it is a great dramatic +spectacle. + + +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace Miller White. Illust. by Howard +Chandler Christy. + +A girl from the dregs of society, loves a young Cornell University +student, and it works startling changes in her life and the lives of +those about her. The dramatic version is one of the sensations of the +season. + + +YOUNG WALLINGFORD. By George Randolph Chester. Illust. by F. R. Gruger +and Henry Raleigh. + +A series of clever swindles conducted by a cheerful young man, each of +which is just on the safe side of a State's prison offence. As +"Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford," it is probably the most amusing expose of +money manipulation ever seen on the stage. + + +THE INTRUSION OF JIMMY. By P. G. Wodehouse. Illustrations by Will Grefe. + +Social and club life in London and New York, an amateur burglary +adventure and a love story. Dramatized under the title of "A Gentleman +of Leisure," it furnishes hours of laughter to the play-goers. + + * * * * * + +B. M. Bower's Novels + +Thrilling Western Romances + +Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. + +Illustrated + + +_CHIP, OF THE FLYING U_ + +A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Della +Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. Cecil +Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is very +amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher. + + +_THE HAPPY FAMILY_ + +A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen +jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find +Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many lively +and exciting adventures. + + +_HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT_ + +A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners +who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana +ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and +the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities. + + +_THE RANGE DWELLERS_ + +Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. Spirited +action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and Juliet +courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dull +page. + + +_THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS_ + +A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author among the +cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud" +Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim +trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love. + + +_THE LONESOME TRAIL_ + +"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional city +life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with the +atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large brown +eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story. + + +_THE LONG SHADOW_ + +A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a +mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game of +life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from start to +finish. + + * * * * * + +THE NOVELS OF + +STEWART EDWARD WHITE + + +_THE RULES OF THE GAME._ Illustrated by Lajaren A. Hiller + +The romance of the son of "The Riverman." The young college hero goes +into the lumber camp, is antagonized by "graft" and comes into the +romance of his life. + + +_ARIZONA NIGHTS._ Illus. and cover inlay by N. C. Wyeth. + +A series of spirited tales emphasizing some phases of the life of the +ranch, plains and desert. A masterpiece. + + +_THE BLAZED TRAIL._ With illustrations by Thomas Fogarty. + +A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young man who +blazed his way to fortune through the heart of the Michigan pines. + + +_THE CLAIM JUMPERS._ A Romance. + +The tenderfoot manager of a mine in a lonesome gulch of the Black Hills +has a hard time of it, but "wins out" in more ways than one. + + +_CONJUROR'S HOUSE._ Illustrated Theatrical Edition. + +Dramatized under the title of "The Call of the North." + +Conjuror's House is a Hudson Bay trading post where the head factor is +the absolute lord. A young fellow risked his life and won a bride on +this forbidden land. + + +_THE MAGIC FOREST._ A Modern Fairy Tale. Illustrated. + +The sympathetic way in which the children of the wild and their life is +treated could only belong to one who is in love with the forest and open +air. Based on fact. + + +_THE RIVERMAN._ Illus. by N. C. Wyeth and C. Underwood. + +The story of a man's fight against a river and of a struggle between +honesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and shrewdness on the +other. + + +_THE SILENT PLACES._ Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin. + +The wonders of the northern forests, the heights of feminine devotion, +and masculine power, the intelligence of the Caucasian and the instinct +of the Indian, are all finely drawn in this story. + + +_THE WESTERNERS._ A story of the Black Hills that is justly placed among +the best American novels. It portrays the life of the new West as no +other book has done in recent years. + + +_THE MYSTERY._ In collaboration with Samuel Hopkins Adams + +With illustrations by Will Crawford. + +The disappearance of three successive crews from the stout ship +"Laughing Lass" in mid-Pacific, is a mystery weird and inscrutable. In +the solution, there is a story of the most exciting voyage that man ever +undertook. + + * * * * * + +STORIES OF WESTERN LIFE + + +_RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE_, By Zane Grey. + +Illustrated by Douglas Duer. + +In this picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago, we are +permitted to see the unscrupulous methods employed by the invisible hand +of the Mormon Church to break the will of those refusing to conform to +its rule. + + +_FRIAR TUCK_, By Robert Alexander Wason. + +Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood. + +Happy Hawkins tells us, in his humorous way, how Friar Tuck lived among +the Cowboys, how he adjusted their quarrels and love affairs and how he +fought with them and for them when occasion required. + + +_THE SKY PILOT_, By Ralph Connor. + +Illustrated by Louis Rhead. + +There is no novel, dealing with the rough existence of cowboys, so +charming in the telling, abounding as it does with the freshest and the +truest pathos. + + +_THE EMIGRANT TRAIL_, By Geraldine Bonner. + +Colored frontispiece by John Rae. + +The book relates the adventures of a party on its overland pilgrimage, +and the birth and growth of the absorbing love of two strong men for a +charming heroine. + + +_THE BOSS OF WIND RIVER_, By A. M. Chisholm. Illustrated by Frank Tenney +Johnson. + +This is a strong, virile novel with the lumber industry for its central +theme and a love story full of interest as a sort of subplot. + + +_A PRAIRIE COURTSHIP_, By Harold Bindloss. + +A story of Canadian prairies in which the hero is stirred, through the +influence of his love for a woman, to settle down to the heroic business +of pioneer farming. + + +_JOYCE OF THE NORTH WOODS_, By Harriet T. Comstock. Illustrated by John +Cassel. + +A story of the deep woods that shows the power of love at work among its +primitive dwellers. It is a tensely moving study of the human heart and +its aspirations that unfolds itself through thrilling situations and +dramatic developments. + + * * * * * + +CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS + + +_WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE_, By Jean Webster. + +Illustrated by C. D. Williams. + +One of the best stories of life in a girl's college that has ever been +written. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable +and thoroughly human. + + +_JUST PATTY_, By Jean Webster. + +Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. + +Patty is full of the joy of living, fun-loving, given to ingenious +mischief for its own sake, with a disregard for pretty convention which +is an unfailing source of joy to her fellows. + + +_THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL_, By Eleanor Gates. + +With four full page illustrations. + +This story relates the experience of one of those unfortunate children +whose early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, seldom +seeing either parent, and famishing for natural love and tenderness. A +charming play as dramatized by the author. + + +_REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM_, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +One of the most beautiful studies of childhood--Rebecca's artistic, +unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of +austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal +dramatic record. + + +NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that +carry Rebecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday. + + +_REBECCA MARY_, By Annie Hamilton Donnell. Illustrated by Elizabeth +Shippen Green. + +This author possesses the rare gift of portraying all the grotesque +little joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a +pathos that is peculiarly genuine and appealing. + + +_EMMY LOU_, Her Book and Heart, By George Madden Martin. + +Illustrated by Charles Louis Hinton. + +Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real. She +is just a bewitchingly innocent, hugable little maid. The book is +wonderfully human. + + * * * * * + +STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER + + +_THE HARVESTER_ + +Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs + +"The Harvester," David Langston, is a man of the woods and fields, who +draws his living from the prodigal hand of Mother Nature herself. If the +book had nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man, with his +sure grip on life, his superb optimism, and his almost miraculous +knowledge of nature secrets, it would be notable. But when the Girl +comes to his "Medicine Woods," and the Harvester's whole sound, healthy, +large outdoor being realizes that this is the highest point of life +which has come to him--there begins a romance, troubled and interrupted, +yet of the rarest idyllic quality. + + +_FRECKLES._ + +Decorations by E. Stetson Crawford. + +Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he +takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great +Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to +the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The +Angel" are full of real sentiment. + + +_A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST._ + +Illustrated by Wladyslaw T. Brenda. + +The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, lovable type of +the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness +towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of +her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and +unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage. + +It is an inspiring story of a life worth while and the rich beauties of +the out-of-doors are strewn through all its pages. + + +_AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW._ + +Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp. Design and decorations by Ralph +Fletcher Seymour. + +The scene of this charming, idyllic love story is laid in Central +Indiana. The story is one of devoted friendship, and tender +self-sacrificing love; the friendship that gives freely without return, +and the love that seeks first the happiness of the object. The novel is +brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and its pathos +and tender sentiment will endear it to all. + + * * * * * + +MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS + + +_LAVENDER AND OLD LACE._ + +A charming story of a quaint corner of New England where bygone romance +finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of love to +the young people on the staff of a newspaper--and it is one of the +prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old fashioned love stories, * * * a +rare book, exquisite in spirit and conception, full of delicate fancy, +of tenderness, of delightful humor and spontaniety. + + +_A SPINNER IN THE SUN._ + +Miss Myrtle Reed may always be depended upon to write a story in which +poetry, charm, tenderness and humor are combined into a clever and +entertaining book. Her characters are delightful and she always displays +a quaint humor of expression and a quiet feeling of pathos which give a +touch of active realism to all her writings. In "A Spinner in the Sun" +she tells an old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in +solitude and whose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a +mystery at the heart of the book that throws over it the glamour of +romance. + + +_THE MASTER'S VIOLIN._ + +A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German virtuoso +is the reverent possessor of a genuine "Cremona." He consents to take +for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an aptitude for +technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth has led the happy, +careless life of a modern, well-to-do young American and he cannot, with +his meagre past, express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life +and all its happy phases as can the master who has lived life in all its +fulness. But a girl comes into his life--a beautiful bit of human +driftwood that his aunt had taken into her heart and home, and through +his passionate love for her, he learns the lessons that life has to +give--and his soul awakes. + +Founded on a fact that all artists realize. + + * * * * * + +ZANE GREY'S NOVELS + + +_THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS_ + +Colored frontispiece by W. Herbert Dunton. + +Most of the action of this story takes place near the turbulent Mexican +border of the present day. A New York society girl buys a ranch which +becomes the center of frontier warfare. Her loyal cowboys defend her +property from bandits, and her superintendent rescues her when she is +captured by them. A surprising climax brings the story to a delightful +close. + + +_DESERT GOLD_ + +Illustrated by Douglas Duer. + +Another fascinating story of the Mexican border. Two men, lost in the +desert, discover gold when, overcome by weakness, they can go no +farther. The rest of the story describes the recent uprising along the +border, and ends with the finding of the gold which the two prospectors +had willed to the girl who is the story's heroine. + + +_RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE_ + +Illustrated by Douglas Duer. + +A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon +authority ruled. In the persecution of Jane Withersteen, a rich ranch +owner, we are permitted to see the methods employed by the invisible +hand of the Mormon Church to break her will. + + +_THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN_ + +Illustrated with photograph reproductions. + +This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, +known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert +and of a hunt in "that wonderful country of yellow crags, deep canons +and giant pines." It is a fascinating story. + + +_THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT_ + +Jacket in color. Frontispiece. + +This big human drama is played in the Painted Desert. A lovely girl, who +has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young New Englander. The +Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall become the second +wife of one of the Mormons-- + +Well, that's the problem of this sensational, big selling story. + + +_BETTY ZANE_ + +Illustrated by Louis F. Grant. + +This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful +young sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. Life +along the frontier, attacks by Indians, Betty's heroic defense of the +beleaguered garrison at Wheeling, the burning of the Fort, and Betty's +final race for life, make up this never-to-be-forgotten story. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Code of the Mountains, by Charles Neville Buck + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CODE OF THE MOUNTAINS *** + +***** This file should be named 38498-8.txt or 38498-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/4/9/38498/ + +Produced by Roger Frank, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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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: The Code of the Mountains + +Author: Charles Neville Buck + +Illustrator: G. W. Gage + +Release Date: January 5, 2012 [EBook #38498] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CODE OF THE MOUNTAINS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>THE CODE OF THE MOUNTAINS</h1> + +<h2>BY CHARLES NEVILLE BUCK</h2> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF THE CALL OF THE CUMBERLANDS, THE BATTLE CRY, <span class="smcap">Etc.</span></h3> + + +<p class="center">ILLUSTRATIONS BY<br /> +G. W. GAGE</p> + +<p class="center">NEW YORK<br /> +GROSSET & DUNLAP<br /> +PUBLISHERS</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1915, by</span><br /> +W. J. WATT & COMPANY</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Published May</i></p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<h3><i>OTHER BOOKS BY</i><br /> +CHARLES NEVILLE BUCK</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">THE KEY TO YESTERDAY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE LIGHTED MATCH<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE PORTAL OF DREAMS<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE CALL OF THE CUMBERLANDS<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE BATTLE CRY<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"Newty," she said softly, "why don't you shake the dirt +of this place offen your feet?"</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>THE CODE OF THE MOUNTAINS</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + + +<p>This morning the boy from the forks of Troublesome Creek had back his +name once more. It was not a distinguished name, nor one to be flaunted +in pride of race or achievement. On the contrary, it was a synonym for +violent law-breaking and in the homely parlance of the Cumberland +ridges, where certain infractions are condoned, it stood for "pizen +meanness." Generations of Spooners before him had taken up the surname +and carried it like runners in a relay race—often into evil ways. Many +had laid down their lives and name with abruptness and violence.</p> + +<p>When the pioneers first set their feet into the Wilderness trail out of +Virginia, some left because the vague hinterland west of the ridges +placed them "beyond the law's pursuing."</p> + +<p>Tradition said that of the latter class were the Spooners, but Newt +Spooner had no occasion to probe the remote past for a record of +turpitude. It lay before him inscribed in a round clerical hand on the +ledger which the warden of the Frankfort Penitentiary was just closing. +Though the Governor's clemency had expunged the red charge of murder +set against his name at the tender age of eighteen, there was another +record which the Governor could not erase. A sunken grave bore testimony +in a steep mountainside burial-ground back in "Bloody Breathitt," where +dead weed stalks rattled and tangled ropes of fox-grapes bore their +fruit in due season.</p> + +<p>However, even the name of Newt Spooner is a better thing than the Number +813, which for two years had been his designation within those gray and +fortressed walls along whose tops sentry-boxes punctuated the angles.</p> + +<p>This morning he wore a suit of black clothes, the gift of the +commonwealth, and his eyes were fixed rather avidly on a five-dollar +note which the warden held tightly between his thumb and forefinger. +Newt knew that the bill, too, was to be his. Yet the warden seemed +needlessly deliberate in making the presentation. That functionary +intended first to have something to say; something meant in all +kindliness, but as Newt waited, shifting his bulk uneasily from foot to +foot, his narrowed eyes traveled with restlessness, and his thin lips +clamped themselves into a line indicative of neither gratitude nor +penitence. The convict's thoughts for two years had been circling with +uncomplicated directness about one focus. Newt Spooner had a fixed idea.</p> + +<p>The office of the warden was not a cheery place. Its walls and desk and +key-racks spoke suggestively of the business administered there. The +warden tilted back in his swivel chair, and gazed at the forgiven, but +unforgiving prisoner.</p> + +<p>"Spooner," he began in that tone which all homilies have in common; +"Spooner, you have been luckier than you had any reason to expect. It's +up to you to see that I don't get you back here again."</p> + +<p>He gazed sternly at the boy, for he was still a boy, despite the chalky +and aged pallor of his face, despite the tight-clenched line of the thin +lips, despite the stooping and emaciated shoulders. The Kentucky +mountaineer withers into quick decay between prison walls, and, unless +appearances were deceitful, this one was already being beckoned to by +the specter of tuberculosis.</p> + +<p>"You have been pardoned and restored to all civil rights by the +Governor," went on the official. "Your youth and ill health appealed to +some ladies who went through the prison. You are the youngest homicide +we have here. They interceded because you were only an ignorant kid when +you were drawn into this murder conspiracy."</p> + +<p>Newt's eyes blazed evilly at the words, but he only clamped his mouth +tighter. He would not have called it a murder conspiracy. To him it was +merely "killin' a feller that needed killin'." "Since," continued the +warden quietly, "you were full of white liquor, and since you had never +had a chance to know much anyhow, those ladies got busy, and you have +another chance. You ought to feel very grateful to them. It's up to you +to prove that the experiment was worth the risk it involves—the risk +of turning an assassin loose on society."</p> + +<p>The boy from Troublesome said nothing. From his thin chest came a deep, +racking cough. He spat on the floor, and wondered how long this man +would hold back the five-dollar bill and prolong the interview.</p> + +<p>"Well?" The warden's voice was impatient. "Don't you hear me talking to +you? Haven't you got any sense of decent gratitude?"</p> + +<p>A fiercely baleful wrath shot instinctively through Newt's gray +hawk-like eyes and smoldered in their deep sockets, but there still was +need to leash his anger—and conceal his purpose.</p> + +<p>"I'm obleeged ter ye," he answered in a dead voice of mock humility, +though his tongue ached to burst into profane denunciation, "but I +hain't axed nobody ter do nothin'. I didn't 'low ter be beholden ter +nobody."</p> + +<p>"You are 'beholden' to everybody who has befriended you," retorted the +warden with rising asperity. "Do you mean to go back to the mountains?"</p> + +<p>At once there leaped into the released convict's mind a vision of being +spied upon and thwarted in his purpose—a purpose which the law could +not countenance. To cover his anger he fell into a fit of violent +coughing, and, when he answered, it was with the crafty semblance of +indecision.</p> + +<p>"I 'lowed I mout go back an' see my kinfolks fer a spell."</p> + +<p>"And after that?"</p> + +<p>"I 'lowed," lied Spooner cautiously, "thet atter thet I'd go West."</p> + +<p>"Now take a tip from me," commanded the warden, and, since he still held +the five-dollar bill, the boy from Troublesome was forced to accord +unwilling attention. "Every mountain man that goes away drifts +eventually back to the mountains. God knows why they do it, but they do. +You have just one chance of salvation. I had that in mind when I spoke +to the Governor and asked him to include in your pardon a restoration of +civil rights. If you get well enough to stand the physical examination, +enlist in the army. Once in, you'll have to stay three years—and in +three years a fellow can do a lot of thinking. It may make a man of you. +If you don't take that tip I'll have you back here again—as sure as God +made you—unless you get hanged instead."</p> + +<p>The warden extended his hand containing the provision with which the +commonwealth of Kentucky invited this human brandling to rehabilitate +his life. The mountaineer bent eagerly forward and clutched at the money +with a wolfish haste of greed. Ten minutes later the prison gates swung +outward.</p> + +<p>The Frankfort Penitentiary sits on a hill looking down to a ragged town +which straddles the Kentucky River. In the basin below somnolent streets +spread away and lose themselves in glistening turnpikes between +bluegrass farms where velvet lawns and shaded woodlands surround old +mansions that mirror the charm and flavor of rural England. The state +capital is a large village rather than a city, but to this boy who had +known only the wild isolation of the Cumberlands, where sky-high +ramparts have caught and arrested human development, Frankfort seemed a +baffling metropolis. In the lumber-yards and distilleries that cluttered +the steep river banks he saw only bewilderment and in the dome of the +capitol the symbol of a power that had jailed him; that except for his +youth would have hanged him.</p> + +<p>One thing only he saw which struck a note of the nostalgic and brought a +catch to his throat. That river had its headwaters in his own country. +One branch flowed through his own county seat, and those knobs that +hugged its banks and framed the straggling town under the singing June +skies, were the little cousins of the mountains where his forefathers +had lived their lives and fought their battles for a hundred years.</p> + +<p>If he followed them long enough, they would mount from knobs to +foothills and from foothills to peaks. The metaled turnpikes would +dwindle and end in clay roads. These roads would in time give way to +rougher trails, rock-strewn and licked by the little, whispering waters +that make rivers, and he would travel by creek-bed ways over which +wagons, if they go at all, must strain their axles and where men ride +mules with their luggage in saddle-bags. There forests of age-old oaks +and spruce, pines and poplars and hickory and ash would troop down and +smother in the hillsides, and the rhododendron would be in bloom just +now. The laurel bushes would be all a-glisten and the elder tops would +be tossing sprays of foam-like blossom between towering sentinels of +rock.</p> + +<p>But the beauties of the rugged home country had for him another meaning. +At the roots of the laurel a man can crouch unseen with his rifle +cradled against his shoulder to "lay-way" an enemy who has over-lived +his time.</p> + +<p>When he had a certain man in rifle-range, the rest would be elementally +simple. He had spent more than two years thinking of that and evolving +every needful plan in detail. There was now no need of haste. After all +this thinking he could afford to consult his leisure and enjoy the +pleasures of anticipation. When once the deed was done, as the warder +had reminded him, there was the probable shadow of the gallows. But it +should be said for the late Number 813 that in his reflections was no +germ of vacillation or indecision. His one definite motive in life was +what he deemed just reprisal. He was willing to pay for that without +haggling over the cost, but he was not willing to defeat his end by +hasty incaution.</p> + +<p>He had been in prison over two years and was still very weak. He +recognized with contempt the tremor of his hand. Once that hand had been +so steady that all his squirrels fell from the hickories pierced through +the head. It would be a little time before he could again command that +nicety of rifle-craft. But now he must get home and home lay about a +hundred and fifteen miles "over yon." He could reach Jackson by rail, +but that would cost money, and there was ammunition to be bought and +other matters of importance, and his capital was precisely five dollars. +Besides, railroad trains were luxurious and effete; they were not for +him. He would "jest natcherly take his foot in his hand and light +out"—pausing only for a little "snack" to eat and a flask to cheer his +journey.</p> + +<p>He made his way slowly down into the center of the town: a town which +had come to recognize at a glance these prison-given suits of black; +these faces pasty with the pallor of confinement; this shamble fathered +by the slouchy swing of the lock-step. For the June morning when No. 813 +became again Newt Spooner was in the year 1897, and the ancient rigors +of prison life still held.</p> + +<p>Eyes turned curiously on the shambling derelict, but the only expression +on Newt's face was one of surly defiance to the world. The only +sentiment that stirred in his breast was such as might have brooded in +the narrow and poisoned brain of a rattle-snake, lying close-coiled by +the laurel roots along his native creek-beds.</p> + +<p>Prisons are to reform and teach lessons of law. Newt Spooner had been in +prison and was now out. He had already known how to hate, but now he +knew how to hate with a greater tensity. Also, he had learned to cloak +his animosity behind a craftier concealment.</p> + +<p>He had grown up as a cub among wolf-like men, running with the pack. +From his mother's shrunken breast he had drawn bitterness toward his +foes and "meanness."</p> + +<p>He remembered his boyhood surprise at the shocked face of the circuit +rider when his father had laconically announced: "Stranger, thet thar +boy's done drunk licker sence he was a baby. We weaned him on hit. Hit's +good licker, 'cause we made hit ourselves—an' we hain't paid no damn' +Gov'ment tax on hit, neither." But before him no Spooner had worn felon +stripes, though many had been felons. That he had done so branded him +with disgrace, and until he should remove that stigma by punishing the +witness upon whose sworn word his conviction had been based, he must +face the scorn of the battle-scarred members of the man-pack that still +ranged free. So, as Newt Spooner turned his face homeward between sunny +pasture lands and soft woodlands and golden grain fields and set his +feet into the Lexington turnpike, young Henry Falkins became a man +marked down for death.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + + +<p>Courts can not enforce laws upon which public opinion sets its embargo. +The men of the mountains have lived isolated lives for a hundred years. +They inhabit an island of medievalism entirely surrounded by +civilization, but the civilization is no more a part of them than the +water that surrounds an island is part of the island. "Leave us alone" +has been the word of the hills to the gift-bearing Greeks of innovation. +The right of men to settle their own quarrels after the method of the +Scottish clans from whom they sprang, has been a thing which local +courts have made only perfunctory efforts to deny—and which juries of +the vicinage stubbornly refused to deny. Among their crude cabins one +still hears phrases bequeathed by word of mouth from the England of +Elizabeth and the Scotland of Mary Stuart. Immured behind their walls of +sandstone, they have lived ignorantly—and fiercely.</p> + +<p>Their peaks are heaped against the skies, and their fields are tilled +with the hoe when mules and plows might fall down to destruction. With +nature itself they pursue a constant and desperate quarrel for +subsistence, and through generations of battle they have grown morose +and sullen and vengeful and have lost all sense of life's humor.</p> + +<p>But slowly the tide of outside influence is creeping in upon them and at +the contact-points strangely anomalous conditions arise: the clash of +incongruous centuries; the war between a stubborn old order and an +inevitable new. In such a life there are here and there far-sighted men +who, standing like great trees among stunted brethren, look out across a +wider perspective with a surer vision.</p> + +<p>The house of McAllister Falkins stands twenty miles from a railroad and +is, for this crude environment, a mansion. It was built in the days when +the first tide of pioneer life swept out of Virginia, and because it +was, in that remote day, nearer kin to the culture of the Old Dominion +than to the wilderness, it bore a strange blending of compromises +between luxury and the exigency of the frontier.</p> + +<p>The head of the house of Falkins, generation after generation, had clung +to the old standards and old ideals. The children of this household had +been reared like their cousins of Virginia and the bluegrass. Other +branches of the family bearing the surname had gone to seed and lapsed +into illiteracy. There were cousins who had to sign their names with +cross-marks and who had been embroiled in savage animosities until the +"Spooner-Falkins War" had become one of the sanguinary chapters of +feudal history, but the head of the house had always stood apart and +denounced the godless code of the vendetta.</p> + +<p>And now the time was come when old McAllister Falkins could look ahead +and begin to see the pale glow of a coming dawn. The railroads, whose +surveyors and chain-bearers his neighbors had fought, were piercing and +developing the hills. Here and there rose a circuit judge or a +prosecuting attorney who dared to talk from an unterrified soul to grand +and petit juries, and occasionally a panel harkened. District schools +began to pass into the hands of teachers who could teach. In this place +and that rose small colleges and the flickering blaze of enlightenment +was struggling into a semblance of steadiness. McAllister Falkins had +sent his son Henry away to school and college, and had had the +satisfaction of seeing him return unspoiled.</p> + +<p>The life of young Henry Falkins, therefore, had been cast both in and +out of the Cumberlands, and he had reached the age of twenty-five with a +minimum of enemies and a maximum of friends. His was the breadth of the +lowlands and the unflinching strength of the hills. Then the lurking and +inevitable shadow of that life had impalpably and suddenly fallen upon +him.</p> + +<p>When Bud Mortimer, a "marked man," riding home from Jackson, had slid +from his horse and died in a creek-bed with a rifle-hole drilled through +his chest, Falkins had been unlucky enough to have been +squirrel-shooting near by and to have recognized one of three figures +that left the open road and took cover in the laurel. By one of the +strange chances of fate, Falkins, who was tramping the woods with no +idea of concealment, had been unobserved, while the three assassins, +crouching along with all their covert art of hiding out, had not quite +escaped his eye. He had not heard the volley because the murder had +taken place at a distance. He would not have suspected the men who +passed casually below him with their rifles cradled in their elbows, had +not a word or two, in the staccato voice of a youth who walked third in +the single file, come to his ears. These words were profanely triumphant +and boastful of marksmanship. The other two men, the squirrel-hunter did +not recognize. Still, Henry Falkins might not have known that the +bull's-eye alluded to had been a human breast, and he did not know it +till later.</p> + +<p>When the dead man's friends had carried the matter to the courts, with +no better evidence perhaps than the bad blood which they knew existed, +and when young Newt Spooner, aged eighteen, but precocious in crime, +stood at the bar, charged with murder, Henry Falkins told the prosecutor +what he had seen. The prosecutor instructed him to keep his secret until +he was called as a witness. He knew the conditions and recognized that, +should this evidence come prematurely to the ears of the Spooners, he +should probably not only lose valuable evidence, but also be saddled +with another prosecution for murder—and just now his homicide docket +was burdensomely heavy.</p> + +<p>When their cub was indicted, the Spooner pack laughed. When he was haled +into court, despite his callow years, he came with insolent confidence, +as one above the law. He might have escaped and hidden out, since the +court had allowed him bond, but that would have hampered his future +freedom of action, so he preferred to go through the farce of a trial, +and afterward be free.</p> + +<p>He testified, and his alibi corps testified as one man, that he had been +at Hazard, forty miles away, when Mortimer fell. The defense closed in +sanguine trustfulness. Then, in rebuttal, the prosecution sprung a +surprise—a sensation—a bomb. The surprise was Henry Falkins, and when +he took the stand, the hand-made alibi collapsed. Even then Newt Spooner +had not been able to realize that the convincing story of one witness +could destroy his carefully fabricated tissue of lies. But sundry +unexpected things were happening in this dingy court-room. A new spirit +reigned there. Vaguely the sullen lad, crouching back in the prisoner's +chair, was aware of a hardening and petrifying resolve on the rugged +faces in the jury-box. Heretofore the average venireman had thought +there was no health in incurring the wrath of a family of terrorists +like the Spooners. Heretofore Spooners had always "come cl'ar." +Heretofore prosecutors had made only perfunctory attempts to convict +them. Not so with the Honorable Cale Floyd. From opening statement to +closing argument he leaped savagely at the throat of the defense. His +cross-examination was a merciless hail of verbal rifle-fire. As he +defied all the vicious animosities of the Spooner tribe, the court-room +held its breath, and young Newt waited vainly for his kinsmen to rise +<i>en masse</i> and silence his anathemas with a volley. Each night in his +cell, young Newt Spooner wondered why he did not hear a sound outside +the brick "jail-house," and see the doors go down before the wrath of +his rescuers. It was incredible that the clan should stand by and permit +him to be "penitentiaried." Yet it finally dawned upon him that +precisely this thing was happening. The realization had dazed and +embittered him. He knew that even among his own he was not accounted as +of great importance, but he bore the name of Spooner, and in the old +days that would have been enough. He was the first sacrifice to the +changing order. He felt no resentment against the prosecutor in spite of +his philippics. The prosecutor was paid to do it. He even rather admired +the courage which gave strength to the attack, when every precedent told +the lawyer that he was inviting death for his pains. But for the man who +had volunteered to testify; who belonged to the family which his family +had hated and fought; who had come back to the mountains with +"fotched-on" ideas and attacked him with the despised weapon of the law; +for that man he felt such hatred as can only come of festering and +venomous brooding, which lasts while life lasts.</p> + +<p>These thoughts Newt Spooner carried as companions as he tramped the +first leg of his homeward journey. Until he had come to Frankfort, +hand-cuffed to a deputy sheriff, he had never seen this land of "down +below." Its softly billowing landscape was to him unfamiliar and +unpleasing. The great columned mansions of time-stained brick set deep +in park-like woodlands; the smoothness of velvet lawns; rippling acres +of grain ripening into gold under the June sun; all these things wore on +his nerves. He was accustomed to a country shut in and sequestered +between eternal hills; of roads where footfalls were silenced; of ragged +patches of cultivation pocketed in surrounding forests. In such places a +man could step aside and be hidden. Here he felt exposed; his very +thoughts seemed naked. That men should live in such great houses and +drive such smooth roads seemed monstrous and incredible. He hated the +"highfalutin" bearing of these "furriners," who carried their chins +aloft like masters of creation. He hated the sight of the "niggers" who +served them. He hated all the orderly smoothness and opulence of this +level land where no ridges broke the sky. So he stalked along, his face +set toward the far horizon, beyond which lay his mountains and his +purpose.</p> + +<p>It was a slow journey, for he was weak, but as he breathed the June air +into his cramped lungs, his shoulders began to lose their slouch and his +gait began to discard its prison shuffle for the long space-eating +stride of the mountaineer.</p> + +<p>At twilight, he came to a small house by the roadside. He had made a +poor day's journey and, since night was falling, he turned in at the +gate, as though it had been that of his own cabin. The place was shabby +and its residents would have been characterized by the negroes as "po' +white trash," but of social values the late Number 813 was ignorant. He +saw only a roof and to the hills-man a roof is a shelter for whosoever +may need it. Over the whitewashed fence clambering roses hung in profuse +invitation, spicing the air with their fragrance.</p> + +<p>Newt made his way to the door where a slatternly woman confronted him. +She stared with disapproving eyes as she wiped her hands on her apron.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you want?" she challenged.</p> + +<p>"I 'lowed ye'd let me stay all night—I'm a travelin'," replied the boy +from Troublesome. He spoke simply and without cumbersome explanation. At +home it would have been enough. But this woman only stared at him +disapprovingly and as she took in his sullen visage and dusty suit of +black, she recognized in him the erstwhile convict. With a suppressed +scream she disappeared indoors.</p> + +<p>Newt stood gazing without comprehension. That he might be turned away +had not at first occurred to him. He had not yet grasped the essential +differences between highland and lowland etiquette. He accordingly +mounted the steps, crossed the porch and entered the door without +knocking. In the mountains no one knocks on a door.</p> + +<p>But at the threshold he met a tall man, who thrust him violently +backward and squared himself across the opening. As Newt staggered +backward and brought himself up against one of the porch supports, the +householder surveyed him from crown to toe, and then, waving a hand +outward, ordered briefly:</p> + +<p>"Get the hell out of here, you damned jail-bird!"</p> + +<p>For an instant the pardoned prisoner stood rigidly at gaze, while his +eyes gathered wrath and his ugly snarl became wolf-like. Never had he +been so greeted when claiming the traveler's prerogative of shelter from +the night. But he was unarmed; moreover, he had a mission. He was going +to kill one man. Killing men was expensive. It cost liberty and +sometimes more. He could not waste animosity. So he veiled his anger and +turned away. "I didn't 'low hit war a-goin' ter make ye mad," he mumbled +as he went out again to the road. But he had learned his lesson. The +mountaineer is as proud as he is ignorant, and, rather than risk another +rebuff, he spent the night in a haystack, and the first rosy kindling of +dawn found him again on his way; hungry, but setting his face stonily +against the temptation to ask food.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The town of Winchester, like all the county seats of central Kentucky, +breaks from its drowsy somnolence into a brief activity on court-day. On +one Monday in each month the roads fill with an unaccustomed caravan of +trade. Then under the hammer of the street auctioneer farm gear and live +stock change hands; saloons and eating-houses do a banner business; +politicians often harangue in the court-house square; friends renew old +acquaintanceships and sometimes enemies renew old quarrels. But +Winchester differs in one respect from its sister towns. The savor of a +soil rich in chivalric traditions hangs here as it does over neighboring +counties, and yet there is a difference. For Winchester is the nearest +town of consequence to that foothilled borderland where the opulent +bluegrass ends and the illiterate Cumberlands pile their grim ramparts. +Here come the farther-wandering traders from the mountains; gaunt men +with steady-gazing eyes and lean sinews and noiseless tread, to mingle +with the louder-spoken and fuller-nourished brothers of the lowlands. It +is on court-day that they come in greatest numbers. Here, too, live some +of their own kin whom the menace of feudal reprisal has driven from +their native slopes and "coves." With the mountaineer's strong yearning +to remain as near as possible to his birthplace, these refugees have +made new homes and new lives at the edge of the bluegrass where on +occasion they can again see familiar faces. From Frankfort to Winchester +is a matter of almost fifty miles, and Newt Spooner, who had taken up +his homeward journey on a Saturday morning, saw its court-house cupola +and church spires pierce the screen of foliage on the forenoon of +Monday, which chanced to be the Monday allotted to Clark County for its +court.</p> + +<p>Newt was very tired and very hungry. His rebuff at the farmhouse had +festered and rankled in his mind, and he had refused to ask hospitality +again or to speak to any man, save for the curt asking of necessary +directions. In Lexington he had bought himself a "snack," but because he +was penuriously hoarding his small capital, he spent with a stinting +hand and pushed onward unsatisfied.</p> + +<p>Now, as he trudged wearily, he saw a figure by the roadside at his +front. The figure was that of a negro, who sat on a rock pile in the +sun, hammering limestone chunks into road metal. As the boy came nearer, +he saw another detail. The black man, though unguarded, was a prisoner +and he sat safe against the chance of escape by reason of the huge iron +ball fastened to one ankle by a padlocked chain. The white man, himself +so lately released from the penitentiary, halted. He had the +mountaineer's chronic aversion to "niggers," but here was someone whom +he could question and who was in no position to insult him.</p> + +<p>"How fur mout hit be ter Winchester?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>The negro, welcoming interruption and conversation, turned with his +granite-headed hammer poised over a piece of limestone.</p> + +<p>"It's a right-smart piece, if a man's leg-weary. It's about a mile, +boss," he said.</p> + +<p>A mile to the hills-man is nothing; a mere "whoop and a holler," yet now +it seemed to the ex-convict as his informant said, "a right-smart +piece." The glow which spotted his pallid face at the cheekbones told of +a temperature. Through his limbs went a dull ache. From time to time he +coughed. Finally the negro laid aside his rock-hammer, and gazed long +and inquiringly at his silent visitor. He, too, recognized the +state-bestowed clothing and its meaning.</p> + +<p>"'Scuse me, boss," he suggested, "but yer done come from Frankfort, +ain't yer?"</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner nodded, but his eyes narrowed, discouraging interrogation.</p> + +<p>"Was yer—was yer in de pen'tenshery, boss?"</p> + +<p>The man chained to his rock pile doubted the wisdom of his question, but +African inquisitiveness had mastered his better judgment.</p> + +<p>Instantly he recognized his mistake. The boy from Troublesome was at +once on his feet and his sallow face was distorted with anger. From his +lips came profane volleys of abuse. Transported by rage, he took a step +forward with clenched fists. The negro clambered to his feet, and, since +he was anchored against flight, backed away defensively, waving his rock +hammer.</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner selected a huge fragment of the scaly limestone, and +withdrew just beyond the range of hammer and chain; but as the negro, in +a paroxysm of terror, fell pleadingly to his knees, he dropped the +missile at his side.</p> + +<p>"I hain't a-goin' ter bust in yore damned black head," he said in slow +wrath, "because I got another job ter do. Thet's ther only reason why I +hain't a-goin' ter kill ye." Then he turned into the road and took up +his journey again.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Back there in the fastnesses of the hills, toward which he was making +his way, the leaven of change was beginning to work, yeast-like. When he +reached his destination he was to learn with surprise that he could not +take up without interruption the story of his life: the story out of +which pages standing for two years had been torn. Births and deaths and +the giving in marriage were not the only things that had happened. +Quietly a new agent had entered in; the agent of a patient spirit of +education. This spirit came burning in the hearts of men and women from +below, who realized that they must breast stubborn opposition and that +they must adapt their methods to the life they sought to change. They +must plant and nourish the new idea in the younger minds and they must +not seek to alter in a twinkling a régime that had long been immutable.</p> + +<p>But buried deep in the forestry of the tangled hills, far back from a +railroad stood a group of buildings that seemed miracle-reared. They +were stanch buildings of square-hewn logs, which in contrast to the +ramshackle huts about them appeared to have been lifted from another +world and transported on the winds of some benevolent cyclone. It was +difficult to think of these houses as having been raised from solid +foundation to level ridgepole so far from the facilities of +transportation. Yet here in the wilderness stood the "college."</p> + +<p>It was no vaunting boastfulness that had inspired the almost fanatical +men and women who stood as sponsors for the enterprise to give so +high-sounding a name to the institution which taught kindergarten and +primary classes. Some day, they hoped, it might grow up to its title, +and meanwhile there were gray-beards and wrinkled women who sought to +study primer and multiplication-table, but whose pride would bar them +from advantages undignified by the name of college.</p> + +<p>On the spring morning when Newt Spooner was trudging homeward, Doctor +Murray, who had slowly and courageously turned his dream into a reality, +sat in the study of the college. There was a smile on his lips, and the +square-jawed face, which escaped all trace of the pedagogic, was +contented. The sun streamed in through his windows and lighted a room +finished in wainscoting of oak and maple—sawed at the mill, which was +part of the institution and which he could see from his window, when he +looked down.</p> + +<p>Above, when he cast his eyes in that direction through another window, +nestled the small hospital, where barbaric methods of local surgery were +being altered. But, best of all, there came to his ears laughter and +shouts from the trim campus where boys and girls were at play: boys and +girls who until they had come here, had known little about laughter and +much about drudgery. And every peal of mirth was a challenge to the old +order of hatred and the ancient thraldom of sullenness.</p> + +<p>A girl came into the room and laid some papers on his desk, and the +doctor nodded at her with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Minerva," he said, "I'm afraid you are working too hard. One doesn't +have to learn everything at once, you know."</p> + +<p>The pupil flushed and stood for a moment silent. She was straight and +lithe, and under the blue calico dress that was turned down at her +neck, her throat was brown with a tan through which a petal-like color +glowed. Her brown hair glistened with the glint of polished mahogany, +and her eyes struck the doctor as eyes meant for mirth, though they had +hardly learned to laugh. The deadly seriousness of the hills and the +Calvinistic seriousness that makes martyrs, seemed to hold in bondage a +spirit that nature had intended to radiate gaiety. Her fingers drew +themselves together into fists, and after a moment she spoke slowly, and +her speech was a strange blending of the illiterate argot of the hills +and a conscious effort to speak in the phrases dictated by the education +which she coveted.</p> + +<p>"I reckon ye don't hardly know how much I've got to learn," she said. "I +reckon ye don't realize how plumb ign'rant I am."</p> + +<p>Suddenly her voice became passionate.</p> + +<p>"Maybe ye don't know how I hate it all—how I want to get away from +ign'rance an' dirt an' wickedness. I've been wonderin' if I didn't err +in comin' here. It's just makin' me hate that cabin over yon—I mean +over there—on Troublesome. Sometimes I think it can't hardly do +nothin'—do anything—but make me dissatisfied."</p> + +<p>The head of the school looked up, and his face grew grave.</p> + +<p>"There are times," he said, "when that thought comes to me, too. I don't +mean as to you, Minerva, alone, but as to all those we take here and +teach. At first it was all a dream of bringing a light to a place that +was dark. That was the only phase I saw. But later I saw more. One can't +make a dream a reality without struggle. Dissatisfaction is the price we +must pay for regeneration—and people like you and myself must be among +the first to pay it."</p> + +<p>"Over there," she went on, as though talking to herself, "they only +hates me for it. They says I'm stuck on myself an' that what's been good +enough for my folks for all time ain't good enough for me no more—I +mean any more."</p> + +<p>"It takes time," the man reassured her. "In the place of ignorance, we +offer education. In the place of lawlessness, we offer law. In the place +of squalor, we offer thrift. Are those things not worth what they cost?"</p> + +<p>The girl stood silent for a moment, then nodded her head.</p> + +<p>"I reckon so," she answered simply, and turned to leave the library. +After she had gone, the teacher sat for a time with his book open before +him, but his eyes were contemplative, and it was from memory and not +from the printed page that he was reading.</p> + +<p>He was thinking back and seeing over again a day shortly after his +school had opened. In those times there had been fewer buildings, and of +the many pupils who came, hungry to learn, only a few could be taken in. +Among the first had been Minerva.</p> + +<p>She had come exhausted and tired because she had come on foot, and her +mean calico dress had been briar-torn, and her feet, which were bare, +had been bruised. But in her eyes was gleaming a passion of hunger and +resolve for the food which the school offered the mind. She had +presented herself, a ragged little mendicant asking the alms of +education, carrying what belongings she had in such a bundle as tramps +carry.</p> + +<p>Back in her unlighted and windowless cabin, she had heard of this +"new-fangled" institution where was to be dispensed the pabulum of +"larnin'"—and she had made her pilgrimage. Now Doctor Murray was +recalling that day. He had been down by the stile which gave entrance +from the creek-bed road, when he had seen the slight figure trudging +along, and the girl had stopped and eyed him shyly.</p> + +<p>"Air ye the feller frum down below what aims ter give folks larnin'?" +she had demanded, as her large eyes held his with a tense directness, +untinged by any humor.</p> + +<p>"To give folks learning is a large contract," he had answered with a +quizzical smile; "but we hope to give to as many as we can, at least its +rudiments."</p> + +<p>"What's them?"</p> + +<p>"The start. Have you ever been to school at all?"</p> + +<p>"I've done been ter the blab-school. I kin read an' write an' figger."</p> + +<p>Dr. Murray had stood there looking at her, and it had come to him that +she made a very pathetic picture, with the yearning in her eyes and the +dust of travel on her calico, so he denied her with a heavy heart.</p> + +<p>"Just now," he said regretfully, "we can only take in a few pupils and +we are already over-crowded. I'm afraid we can't make room for you." +Suddenly he added, "How far have you come?"</p> + +<p>"The rise of twenty mile, sence sun-up," she informed him simply, then +tears welled rebelliously into her eyes. Her voice broke from her lips +with a fierce passionateness.</p> + +<p>"Ye've got ter take me," she cried out. "Ye've jest simply got ter take +me. I've done been prayin' ter God Almighty ter give me a chanst. I've +done heerd that ye war a preacher of ther Gospel, an' I reckon God +hain't a-goin' ter suffer ye ter turn me away."</p> + +<p>Doctor Murray had then been new to the hills. The storm-like intensity +of the mountain character was bringing him its revelations. He stood +there by the road, watching the ox-teams that were bringing logs in to +his saw-mill and made rapid calculations and as he did so he heard the +new candidate for matriculation rushing on:</p> + +<p>"Ther Scripters says thet God's servant won't turn away sich as comes to +him seeking light—an' I've done come."</p> + +<p>"At all events," he answered gently, "come up and have something to eat, +and I'll talk it over with my wife."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Murray had spent a half-hour with the girl, and then had come back +to her husband.</p> + +<p>"She is as wild as a squirrel," was her announcement, "but I have never +seen such a starving heart or brain. I don't know what we shall do with +her, but we must let her stay." And so Minerva had stayed.</p> + +<p>Now she went out of the library, and made her way to a favorite spot up +on the hillside. It was a study hour, and she carried a book with her. +The time she had spent here had wrought a transformation. The brain had +unfolded and the heart had become unplaced. The terms of this school +adapted themselves to the needs of the environment. They did not +conflict with the nearer demands of farm work, but accommodated +themselves to necessity. When the frequent vacations came, Minerva went +back to the cabin which she called her home. Each of these visits she +dreaded.</p> + +<p>Mountain reserve is hard to break. Even in her tempestuous appeal to the +head of the school, she had not told her full story. Now she was +thinking of it.</p> + +<p>Mountain women grow old while they are yet young, but her mother had +seemed to her different. Mountain women are grave with a gravity which +is more than half sullen, but she remembered a mother who had laughed +and whose voice had been often raised in song. Then when she was still +very small, she remembered one of those rude mountain funerals where +those who come raise their voices in a weird incantation of "mourning," +which they leave off for gossip as soon as the period set aside for the +clamor comes to its end. After that she had been motherless and had kept +house for a shiftless and surly father. That house-keeping had been +simple enough in the shack of one room, but it had been unrelieved +drudgery, and because she was one of those human beings who are less +near of kinship to the members of the family with whom they live than +with some far-off ancestor whose nature is strangely duplicated, Minerva +had always had longings for things which were to her undefined dreams. +Her nature had always been in insurrection against the squalid facts of +her life. Her inclinations and thoughts struck back, by one of Nature's +practical jokes, to some woman who had been a lady in the courtly life +of Virginia a century, or maybe two centuries, ago, before her ancestors +became stranded pioneers and lapsed into illiteracy, degeneracy and +venal sloth here in the hard hills. What this all meant she had not +known, but she knew that one memory alone was sweet to her thoughts, and +that that was the memory of her mother. She knew, too, that even before +they had taught her at the college how perverted it all was, this whole +scheme of mountain feudalism and black ignorance and bitterness had +seemed to her wrong and repugnant. Something had told her that somewhere +there must be something different and that somehow she must find it and +weave it into the pattern of her life. Of these things she had thought +as she sat in the summer evenings on the slab bench before the cabin +door. In summer there was a great pine, which, just after twilight had +faded into velvet blackness in the sky, pointed an index upward beyond +the valley; and over it, before the other stars came out there always +appeared a tiny point of light, which she chose to call her star. +Somehow, it seemed that in some vague future day that star would lead +her.</p> + +<p>She was often alone, for her father would leave her there and go his own +ways, but a day came when he returned and began throwing his few +possessions into a bundle.</p> + +<p>"M'nervy," he said with a sullen sort of embarrassment, "I reckon thar's +times when ye gits right-smart lonesome way up hyar, hain't thar?"</p> + +<p>A catch had come into her voice as she said:</p> + +<p>"Right often, Pappy."</p> + +<p>He nodded, then added abruptly:</p> + +<p>"Waal, we're ergwine ter nail up thet door ternight an' quit this-hyar +place."</p> + +<p>"Whar air we a-goin' ter?"</p> + +<p>"I done got myarried terday," he announced. "I reckon we'll go down an' +dwell with my wife's folks."</p> + +<p>The sun was nearing the western peaks and the afternoon was well spent. +The girl had had no intimation in advance of this contemplated change of +order. She stood there stunned. Life had been empty enough, but here at +least she had been in a fashion mistress of the wretched house, and here +she had had her pine tree and her star, which were the emblems of her +dreams.</p> + +<p>A long, low moan escaped her, and her father's face reddened in anger. +He turned away and left her, going into the house, and she fled +precipitately to the heights above and sobbed out her misery at the +roots of the pine to which she was bidding farewell.</p> + +<p>Then they had moved, and life had meant fitting herself into a new +family, no member of which liked her, and submitting to the shrewish +heckling of a step-mother, who seemed to her a hideous libel upon the +memory of the woman who had been lucky enough to die young.</p> + +<p>Now, as she sat with her book in her lap, because in a few days she must +go back to that cabin, the past was parading in review before her eyes, +and though she was very hungry for "larnin'" she was neglecting her +books.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + + +<p>The late convict had wasted his strength. His violent paroxysm of anger +had exhausted him more than his laborious tramp. It had sent his +temperature up and brought a sickening weakness to his muscles. He +wavered as he plodded and once or twice even stumbled to his knees, +until at last, with only three-quarters of a mile left, he turned aside +to the bank of the roadside and sat down with the sweat of weakness +dripping from his face.</p> + +<p>It was such a day as must have set poets to making jeweled phrases out +of words. The air and skies held that radiance which can make of a +Kentucky June morning a miracle of beauty. The horizons were dreamily +soft and warm. In the field at Newt Spooner's back a meadow-lark was +madly trying to burst his pulsating throat with the flood of golden joy. +In Newt Spooner's mind was a somber picture; a picture of the mountains +which a few days more would throw across the eastern sky-line, and of a +man who lived there and who was to die. He was to die without +opportunity to defend himself and without benefit of clergy. It was not +to be a fight, but an execution. In the entire mental range of the young +man panting by the roadside was no reflex of any other thing than brute +bitterness and "pizen meanness."</p> + +<p>A buggy and horse rose into view over the crest of the hill. It had only +one occupant and the occupant was a girl. She was unlike any woman Newt +Spooner had ever known; unlike any of the "gals" back in the mountains. +Her lithe figure had all the fresh charm of the sparkling morning and +all the spirited quality of the thorough-bred. And just as to Newt +Spooner the world held only gall, so to her it held only fragrance and +music and starshine—and an abiding faith in men and women.</p> + +<p>She was happy because she had not yet discovered any unhappiness and +because she was young ... and because to-day she would see in Winchester +a certain member of the opposite sex in whom her interest was direct and +personal. Meantime, June was softly glowing around the whole circle of +the sky's embrace and the trees were rustling their fresh greenery and +the birds were singing.</p> + +<p>She was singing, too, but suddenly she stopped as her eyes fell on the +young man by the roadside. Her quick gaze discerned that he was +desperately thin and that the color in his face burned only in hectic +spots against a chalky pallor. She saw, too, that as he wiped his +forehead on his sleeve his forearm and hand trembled. His clothes +proclaimed him lately released from the penitentiary, but her ideas on +the subject of prisons were vaguely confined to a compassionate regret +that they existed. Quite probably had she found him there looking weak +and sick even had he worn stripes, she would still have offered him +help. She drew the horse to a standstill, and called out cheerfully in a +voice as tuneful as the lark over yonder in the field:</p> + +<p>"Good-morning. Can't I give you a lift?"</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner gazed back at her sullenly and defiantly. The dog that has +only been kicked distrusts the hand thrust out in kindness. It is +unknown to his experience.</p> + +<p>"Naw," he declined, with as surly an utterance as possible.</p> + +<p>The girl flushed and her lips tightened. She flung back her head with a +gesture that set truant curls tantalizingly astir and flapped the reins +on the horse's back, but in quick afterthought she drew him down again. +This boy's rudeness did not alter the fact that he was sick. He looked +like a mountaineer and could hardly be expected to measure up to the +bluegrass requirements of courtesy.</p> + +<p>"You're about as polite as—as a mud-turtle," she calmly informed the +traveler, holding his eyes with an unflinching gaze, before which they +shamefacedly drooped; "but that doesn't make any difference. I'm going +into Winchester, and you don't look very well. Hadn't you better get in +and ride to town?"</p> + +<p>The boy from Troublesome stared his incredulity. She seemed to him a +marvelous sort of being. Her simple dress was to his eyes extravagantly +elegant and her patrician delicacy of feature belonged to an order +which neither the drudgery of the hills nor that of the state prison had +given him opportunity to study.</p> + +<p>"I reckon," he said slowly and diffidently, but no longer with a note of +bitterness, "hit hain't wuth while to pester ye."</p> + +<p>"That's all right," she commanded. "Climb in." Slowly he rose and +obeyed, the whiskey-flask protruding from his coat-pocket, and when they +had gone a quarter of a mile, Newt made his sole voluntary contribution +to the conversation.</p> + +<p>"I'm obleeged ter ye," he said.</p> + +<p>She did not question him unduly, nor ply him with conversation, but she +smiled, and in some subtle fashion there broke through the storm-wrack +of the boy's bitterness a thin ray of light and glow of graciousness. +She let him out at the court-house square, where buggies stood in rows +and traders jostled and the auctioneer's shout resounded, and there he +lost himself in the crowd; but first he stood looking after her until +her buggy turned a corner, and then he remembered that she had nodded +with a friendly smile of farewell. It was rather wonderful to be treated +like a human being.</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner wanted food and he wanted it to be cheap, so he foraged up +and down Main Street until he came upon that lower section where several +shabby eating-houses were sandwiched between equally shabby saloons.</p> + +<p>And while he stood on the pavement undecided which way to turn, a hand +was laid on his shoulder, and he wheeled, startled, to find himself +gazing into the face of his kinsman, Red Newton.</p> + +<p>"Come hyar," commanded the older man. "I done heered thet ye was +pardoned out, an' I sorter 'lowed ye'd be making tracks fer ther +mountings. I wants ter have talk with ye afore ye goes back."</p> + +<p>"I aims ter git a snack ter eat," demurred Newt. "I hain't a-goin' ter +talk ter no man afore I eats."</p> + +<p>The other nodded.</p> + +<p>"I knows a place whar we kin eat an' talk, too. Fult Cawsler hes done +moved hyar from over on Squabble Creek, an' opened a resteraw. All our +folks eats thar."</p> + +<p>The youth, who had three days before been Number 813, permitted himself +to be led through an uninviting doorway around which stood several gaunt +men in mud-spattered clothes. But Red Newton did not suffer him to halt +at any of those tables, covered with red oil-cloth, where several +taciturn pilgrims from the hills were feeding themselves from the blades +of their knives. Instead he whispered something to Fult Cawsler himself, +and was permitted to climb a narrow stairway at the back. At its head +they traversed a narrow hall and came into a separate room where around +a private table were seated a group of men whom the boy knew. Old Jason +Dode was, as usual, tipsy and, even as the new-comers entered, was +tilting the bottle of "red licker" which he unwillingly substituted for +the white and sweetish moonshine of his native stills. But the +important thing was that Black Pete Spooner stood gazing out of the open +window, though he stood back far enough to escape the eyes of passers-by +below. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets and on his face was the +same expression that always sat there. Few people passed Black Pete by +without turning to look again. He stood somewhat upward of six feet and +his broad shoulders tapered to a gauntness of waist and leg which gave +him the suggestion of a timber wedge. He was as tough as that +lumberman's implement and wedgelike, too, in his power of disrupting the +dividing elements which, but for him, might have hung together in +harmony.</p> + +<p>His dark head he carried high-flung with a swing of independence, and +that head, even more than the physique, caught and challenged attention.</p> + +<p>Black Pete's face was rather narrow and rather long, but its brow was +high, its nose strong and regular, and its chin had that square-blocked +declaration of resoluteness which commands respect. Under brows black +and bushy gazed out eyes that were the dominating feature. They were as +clear and penetrating as crystal lenses, and in them dwelt a sober, +almost sad contemplativeness as though the brain behind them were +habitually gazing off beyond horizons that limited other visions. They +were eyes that seemed able to pierce the opaque things of life. The hair +curled crisply in glistening black, about the forehead and neck, and +over the firm mouth a black mustache fell drooping in long ends. It was +a face that hinted at no violence, though at great strength and +determination. Rather was it suggestive of melancholy thought, and it +had won for him the satiric title of the "Deacon."</p> + +<p>As Red Newton and Newt Spooner came into the room, Black Pete turned his +glance for a moment upon them, then wheeled again to the window with no +apparent interest in their presence or existence. His face remained as +wistfully distracted as though he were a minister preparing a discourse, +on a text which lay very near his heart. But Newt, having seen him, +continued to stare. His eyes narrowed. He knew that several years ago, +before he had himself become a felon, the Deacon had gone West—where he +did not know. But he did know that only so long as this man remained +away from the county could there be hope of even comparative peace +between the Spooners and the Falkinses. So dreaded was the quiet-visaged +intriguer, so unalterably given to violence and the taking of lives, +that his exile had been the condition precedent to all negotiations for +truces and peace. Now Black Pete was back. Obviously, the meeting in +Cawsler's "resteraw," seventy miles from home, held some portent beyond +the casual.</p> + +<p>They brought the newest prodigal food, and, while he devoured it, +bolting it with wolfish hunger, he also picked up the loose ends of talk +and began to understand the situation. There had been an election down +in his section since Newt's conviction—an election and some other +things, which Red Newton briefly summarized as "merry hell." The +"penitentiarying" of Newt himself had been only the inaugural of more +sweeping and hateful innovations. Three times the old blood-feud had +broken into sporadic outbursts, and three men had been shot. But what +most galled was the fact that the commonwealth's attorney had shown a +hound-like nose for evidence and that all of the accused clansmen had +been viciously prosecuted.</p> + +<p>A truce had been patched, by the terms of which Jake Falerin, a cousin +of McAllister Falkins and the leader of the militant Falkinses, had +agreed to leave the hills and remove the menace of his disturbing +influence. He had gone only as far as Winchester, and, from councils +held there with visiting Falkinses, was as dangerous as though he had +remained at home, even while his own life was safer. The Spooners had +decided that this half-compliance was a practical breach of the truce, +and in accordance with that theory the Deacon had come home. At least, +he had come this far. In the meanwhile, the Honorable Cale Floyd, +commonwealth's attorney, had reaped the gratitude of his constituency. +Because he had waged relentless war on lawlessness and had begun to show +incipient symptoms of victory, he was defeated for reëlection. Sick of +the futility of such endeavor, he had closed the bare law-office before +which his shingle had swung in Jackson, and had come to Winchester, +where the field was larger and where men were more appreciative of the +qualities and principles for which he stood. He was the man who had put +stripes on Newt, and who, had he remained in office long enough, would +have made the pattern a family apparel for other Spooners.</p> + +<p>"That's how things stands, Newt," summarized Red, turning to the new +arrival, "an' that's what I 'lowed ye'd better know about afore ye went +back home."</p> + +<p>"An' them damned fellers, Jake Falerin an' Cale Floyd, is a settin' over +thar somewhars in this-hyar town right now, a-brewin' of more deviltry," +enlightened old Jason Dode in a hiccupy voice, "an' because they hain't +in the mountings, they 'lows they kin go right on with hit. We don't +'low they kin."</p> + +<p>The "Deacon" turned from the window, and strolled toward the table. +Newt, having appeased his hunger, was wiping his mouth on the spotted +tablecloth. The dark giant fixed him with thoughtful eyes. When he +spoke, his voice was in contrast with those of his fellows, for his life +in the West had almost freed it from drawl and vernacular, and he spoke +with a quiet graveness.</p> + +<p>"Son, this Cale Floyd is the same lawyer that sent you to prison."</p> + +<p>Newt's eyes flashed.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I hain't fergot thet," he said shortly.</p> + +<p>Black Pete nodded sympathetically, and went on with the same grave +intonation.</p> + +<p>"I reckon you wouldn't mind much if he got his dues?"</p> + +<p>"He's ergwine ter git his'n," asserted old Jason, his bloodshot eyes +wickedly aflare. "He's ergwine ter git his'n this day afore sundown. +An' Jake Falerin's ergwine ter git his'n, too. Them two fellers'll be in +hell ternight."</p> + +<p>"Shut the old fool up," suggested the Deacon passively; "he'll be +shouting that out in the street after one more swig of liquor." Then he +turned to Newt again.</p> + +<p>"If Floyd isn't taken care of, son, the next commonwealth's attorney +will follow right after him. We've got to give a lesson an' a warning. +Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon I do," replied the ex-convict, but he spoke without ardor.</p> + +<p>"This evenin' about half-past four o'clock," proceeded Black Pete, +"Mister Lawyer Floyd is going to make a speech in front of the +court-house. There'll be a crowd, and we figure that Falerin will be +there, too. Our boys will get up close. Some of them will start a fight +amongst themselves, and I reckon they'll pull guns. Mr. Floyd an' Mr. +Falerin are apt to get accidentally shot."</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner rose, and stretched his arms. His food and rest had +refreshed him, and the red spots had gone out of his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"What for," he inquired coolly, "air ye a-tellin' me all this-hyar +business?"</p> + +<p>The Deacon's grave eyes clouded, but otherwise his expression did not +change.</p> + +<p>"We figured you'd be interested, son. You were the first Spooner they +ever put behind penitentiary bars. This man did it. We figured that when +we came to punish these fellers—" He broke off with a shrug of his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Ye 'lowed ye mout git me ter kill 'em?" Newt spoke with absolutely no +betrayal of interest.</p> + +<p>"Jest the lawyer, Newt," interpolated Red Newton ingratiatingly. "He's +your'n. Hit's yore right ter punish him."</p> + +<p>The late convict wheeled on the speaker, and his face blackened and +lowered.</p> + +<p>"The hell hit is!" he screamed. "I hain't aholden nothin' 'g'inst ther +lawyer. He didn't do nothin' but what he had a license ter do. I knows +who I'm atter. You folks wants two men killed, an' you wants me ter be +ther feller ter go ter the penitentiary fer doin' hit. What the hell did +any of ye do fer me last time? What the hell do I owe any of ye, wuth +goin' back thar fer?"</p> + +<p>For a moment, a general silence of dazed astonishment followed the +outburst. It was the Deacon who broke it at last.</p> + +<p>"All right, son," he said almost gently. "Every man accordin' to his +lights. I reckon you ain't goin' to tell anybody what you've heard?"</p> + +<p>Newt snorted contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"I reckon ye knows thar hain't no danger of <i>thet</i>." "Hit 'pears like," +interposed Red Newton with an apologetic shrug to the others, "hit +'pears like the penitenshery hes done broke ther boy's sperit. Some +folks is thet-away, but hit don't hardly seem like no Spooner."</p> + +<p>Newt wheeled on him.</p> + +<p>"Thet's a low-down lie," he stormed. "Nothin' hain't broke my sperit. I +hain't scairt of them, ner of you, ner of hell! I knows what I'm atter. +Thar's a feller I'm ergwine ter kill, but hit hain't this one. I'm +tendin' ter my own business?—not your'n. You-all got me inter one +killin', an' not a blame one of ye stood by me atterwards. Now all of ye +kin go ter hell!"</p> + +<p>He glared around the group for a moment and left the house, and no one +made an effort to stop him. Newt meant to take up his journey within an +hour or two. He, too, had a vengeance planned, but the man he sought was +back there in the mountains, and there was no use in "foolin' away time +an' money here."</p> + +<p>Yet an hour later he walked past the court-house and the large hotel +just beyond it, and abruptly, opposite the hotel door, he halted. He had +seen a buggy drive up and stop, and in the buggy was the girl who had +brought him to town. He had forgotten her, but now he paused across the +street and stood gazing. He gazed simply because she was the first +living soul who had ever been kind or gracious to him, and, precisely as +the blind man may feel the sunlight and know that it is pleasant, he +glowed dumbly under the remembrance of her smile.</p> + +<p>Then as he stood looking, a young man came out of the hotel with his hat +lifted and his face smiling. In his eyes was an expression easy to read, +an eager, glad welcome as he crossed the pavement with extended hand and +climbed into the buggy beside the girl. The young man was well dressed +and bore himself like a gentleman, yet he was a mountaineer by parentage +and birth.</p> + +<p>Newt's posture stiffened into rigidity. The color left his face and his +eyes began to burn balefully.... He had just recognized Henry Falkins.</p> + +<p>For an instant, the erstwhile convict stood paralyzed with astonishment, +then the blood in his arteries began pounding a fanfare of triumph. +Wheeling, he went rapidly toward the restaurant of Mr. Cawsler. There he +would find some of the clansmen, and one of them could lend him a +pistol. If they refused, he would ravish a weapon from them with his +bare hands. After that, if they let him have ten minutes for his own, he +would join them in any schemes, conspiracies or crimes that interested +them. For him, ten minutes would be sufficient. His walk broke into a +trot at which the passers-by laughed. A yokel in a hurry is always +amusing.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + + +<p>A group of shabby men lounging in front of Fult Cawsler's restaurant +paid scant attention to a wild-eyed youth who came down the street at a +run and dashed into the door. Newt found the dining-room on the main +floor empty save for a weary and untidy woman who was clearing away the +china of the mid-day trade, and Fult Cawsler himself, whose bulky figure +was just then disappearing up the stairs. The boy stood for a moment +anxiously gazing about the place with its oil-cloth table-covers and its +gaudy wall calendars, then dashed pell-mell after the climbing +restaurateur. The woman called to him in high-pitched and raucous +prohibition, but Newt Spooner went heedlessly on his way. At the head of +the stairs in the murky hallway Cawsler turned, and without at once +recognizing the on-rushing invader wheeled belligerently to face him.</p> + +<p>The plans which had been hatched in his place that day were not such as +would enhance his reputation as a law-abiding tradesman should they come +to general knowledge. As the proprietor blocked the way, his voice +carried the ring of asperity.</p> + +<p>"What in hell air ye makin' such a furss about?"</p> + +<p>"Hit's me, hit's Newt Spooner," volleyed the unarmed avenger. "Whar's +Red? Whar's the Deacon? I hain't got no time ter fool round. I'm in +hell's own haste!"</p> + +<p>"They've done gone—all of 'em," responded Cawsler calmly, as he +recognized the ex-convict. "I don't know whar they're at." He paused, +and then admonished coldly, "Ye'd better set down and calm yoreself. Ef +ye runs around town so distracted-like, they'll put ye in the jail-house +fer shore."</p> + +<p>Newt only snarled. Here was a situation upon which he had not counted. +He had unexpectedly found his quarry, and he was unarmed. By the time he +remedied his deficiency his victim might have escaped. For an instant he +stood in a futile and silent transport of rage, his entire body in a +tremor of blood-lust and excitement. Then with an oath he pushed Cawsler +aside and entered the room where he had left his clansmen. It, too, was +empty, except for a figure breathing with drunken and stertorous stupor +in a chair at one corner.</p> + +<p>The one man was old Jason Dode. Newt rushed across, and unceremoniously +catching him by the shoulders, twisted his sagging figure until it lay +chest upward. The old drunkard mumbled and raised balky hands against +the indignity, but consciousness flitted only spasmodically across his +face, and he sank back again with an incoherent murmur. Newt tore open +his coat and vest, and ran his hand under the left armpit, but he found +there only an empty holster. Old Jason was drunk and ineffective, and +lest in his maudlin condition he might wander out and disturb the +equilibrium of their plans, the clan had disarmed him. Newt rose and +faced Cawsler.</p> + +<p>"I've got ter have a gun," he exploded. "Git me a gun!"</p> + +<p>But Cawsler, gazing into the wild face and burning eyes, judged that +Newt, too, had been "hittin' up the red licker," and that a gun was just +what he least needed. Accordingly he shrugged the fat shoulders under +his dirty shirt, and shook his head in negation.</p> + +<p>"I hain't got no gun," he lied; "I done loaned mine out." With another +wild oath, the would-be assassin dashed down the steps and out into the +street. He would search the town until he found a kinsman, and +incidentally he would try to keep an eye of sufficient watchfulness on +Henry Falkins to remain familiar with his movements. It did not occur to +him that Henry Falkins might be unsuspicious. To his mind Henry Falkins +must know, if he had heard of the pardon, that, straight as a homing +pigeon, Newt would come to him for reprisal. Such was the code of the +Cumberlands. So his task was threefold: to arm himself; to find Henry +Falkins; and to conceal himself from Henry Falkins.</p> + +<p>The Spooner aggregation meant to make its appearance at the +psychological moment, and until that moment to remain as invisible as a +covey of quail in close brush. Newt, no longer excited of guise, but +quiet, almost feline in his alert movements, slunk from saloon to +saloon, and scanned the length of the streets with a purposeful glitter +in his eye—and his search for a kinsman was vain.</p> + +<p>The afternoon was well advanced when the boy, lurking in a side street, +saw a buggy pass at a rapid trot, and recognized its occupants. The +vehicle was going out Main Street, and in it were a girl and a man. For +the second time that day, he had sighted his quarry, and, turning into +Main Street, he began to follow. It was merely reconnaissance, but, if +he could hold the vehicle in sight long enough, he might know where +later to take up his watch. A man on foot is poorly equipped to follow a +standard-bred trotter between the shafts of a light buggy, but the +streets of Winchester lie over gradual and rolling hills, and the girl +who held the reins was a humane driver. A square ahead, she drew her +horse to a walk for the climb, so the man could keep them in sight as +far as the next ridge, and he strode along at a rapid distance-devouring +walk, forgetting his weariness as a hunter forgets it when a covey rises +whirring from the stubble.</p> + +<p>Then for a while he lost them, and so, losing and regaining his view, he +followed them up and down hill till the town dwindled into outskirts and +the street became a smooth turnpike between farms and woodlands. But, at +last, the difference in speed told, and the boy reluctantly abandoned +the chase. Not, however, until he had glimpsed through stretches of +velvet woodland a thing which he did not understand, and which he paused +in perplexity to study. Back in the patriarchal grove of oaks and +walnuts and hickories was a frame platform, and men were working on +their hands and knees, polishing its floors. About it were strung long +lines of paper lanterns of bright and varied colors and fantastic +shapes. Still farther back, but close of access to the platform, rose +the front of an ancient and vine-covered mansion with its little village +of barns and servants' quarters, peeping out between lilac bushes and +cedars. But it was the platform that puzzled the mountain traveler, and +he perched himself on the fence to "study" about it.</p> + +<p>A negro boy, riding a colt and carrying an empty basket, came jogging +down the avenue and into the pike, where he drew rein in response to +Newt Spooner's signal.</p> + +<p>"What mout thet contraption be over yon?" demanded the mountaineer in a +surly voice, as he indicated with a jerk of his head the object of his +curiosity.</p> + +<p>The servant laughed long and loud. He was a young negro and mounted. By +putting spurs to his steed he could escape any penalty of insolence, and +if the mountaineer dislikes the negro it is with no greater scorn than +that which the negro feels for the poor white. When he had finished +laughing his white teeth continued to gleam in a wide grin.</p> + +<p>"Thet-thar contraption," he mimicked with an excellent impersonation of +the nasal drawl in which he had been questioned, "is a platfawm. It's +shorely an' p'intedly a platfawm. Our folks is gwine ter have a platfawm +dance ternight. Saxton's band's coming frum Lexin'ton ter play de music, +and all de quality folks'll be hyar."</p> + +<p>At the sneer of the servant's manner, Newt Spooner had slipped down from +the place he had assumed on the fence, and stalked menacingly out into +the road. The negro had moved his horse a little to the side and waited. +But, at the information received, Newt forgot his wrath in the +engrossment of a sudden idea. A dance! The young people would be there +in force. Perhaps among them would be the one he sought. In his country +where round dances are unknown, special invitations are not required. +Word goes out that so-and-so is giving a dance at such-and-such a point, +and the countryside troops thither for shuffle and jig and wassail.</p> + +<p>"I reckon," said Newt slowly, "I reckon I'll be thar."</p> + +<p>The black boy let out a loud guffaw. He leaned back with one hand +supporting his weight on the haunches of his mount, and whooped his +mirthful derision to the open heavens. Newt gazed at him, first in +astonishment; then in passion.</p> + +<p>"What air ye a-laughin' at, nigger?" he inquired with low-pitched +ferocity of voice.</p> + +<p>The boy gathered up his reins, and, under the pressure of his spurred +heel, the colt was away in a gallop.</p> + +<p>"I may be a nigger," he flung back over his shoulder, "but I ain't no +po' white trash. The likes of you comin' to our dance! Good Gawd!" A +roar of ironical laughter followed in the wake of clattering hoofs, +while Newt Spooner, his thin face working with a positive mania of +fury, hurled rock after rock at the retreating figure.</p> + +<p>Slowly the mountain boy walked back toward town, his black suit already +whitened with a fine coating of turnpike dust.</p> + +<p>As he neared the court-house, he quickened his step, for a dense crowd +was gathered at its front, and he knew that the speaking must be in +progress. His people would be in the throng and they would be armed. If +he were going to the dance to-night, he needed a gun, and yet his +craftiness automatically set a restraint on his impatient haste. Should +he rush headlong into that crowd just on the verge of trouble, he might +rush also into arrest. The applause and laughter with which the crowd +just now jostled shoulders told him that nothing had yet occurred to +break the peace or equipoise of the occasion; but that something +was to happen he knew, and the knowledge made him cautious. A +distinguished-looking gentleman with white hair was speaking from an +improvised stand, and, as the ex-convict drew near the outskirts of the +crowd, he found himself standing near a man who wore a blue coat, and +leaned on a stout hickory staff. The partial uniform of this individual +proclaimed a town marshal, and the badge on the breast corroborated the +proclamation. It occurred to Newt that to be talking with an officer of +the law when the shooting began would constitute an excellent alibi. So +he stopped, and touching the officer on the elbow, inquired:</p> + +<p>"Stranger, who mout thet man be, thet's a-talkin'?"</p> + +<p>The policeman turned and regarded him out of a broad, good-humored face, +in which shrewd, but merry eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>Newt wanted that officer to know him the next time they met, and to +remember him definitely, so he returned the gaze with one frank and +unblinking.</p> + +<p>"That's General Braden, sonny," the town marshal amiably enlightened; +"he's just introducin' the Honorable Cale Floyd. That's Floyd now."</p> + +<p>"I hain't in yore way, am I, stranger?" questioned Newt humbly by way of +further emphasizing his presence. "I 'low ef I hain't, I'll jest stay +right hyar an' listen at him speak."</p> + +<p>The officer laughed.</p> + +<p>"Stay right where you are, sonny," he invited; "I expect it's as good a +place as any." And then, to the boy's delight, the other laid a hand +lightly on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>The young man from the waters of Troublesome wore a blank face, although +it was difficult. He had told himself that he felt no hostility for this +prosecutor who had convicted him. Yet, now, as he saw the tall man step +forward to take his place on the platform, remove his felt hat and shake +back the black hair which fell, mane-like, over his forehead, Newt +acknowledged a sense of gladness that he was to be killed.</p> + +<p>The Honorable Cale Floyd had fought a bitter battle back there in the +lawless hills for the vindication of law. He had walked in the shadow +of death and had been deprived of office; ostracized like Aristides +because he was "too just a man."</p> + +<p>Now, he had come down here to the cultured bluegrass, and was being +pointed out as something of a hero. Clients with well-filled purses +brought their litigation to his office. And it came to pass that in the +glow of unwonted recognition, the simplicity with which he had faced +peril back there in his own country was slipping from him. He felt the +theatric quality of the moment, and struck something of a pose as the +crowd took in his tall figure and broad shoulders and country lawyer's +make-up of frock coat and black string tie. He had recognized that it +was more effective to appear the backwoods lawyer than the well-groomed +attorney. His mentality would flash more startlingly from six feet of +rugged mountaineer, and his attainments would limn themselves forth in a +more impressive forcefulness. In short, the Honorable Cale Floyd was not +now averse to capitalizing his past vicissitudes.</p> + +<p>So he shook back his hair, and stood smiling with the June sun slanting +to his fearlessly rugged features and touching them like a face cast in +bronze. Then he began to talk. He warmed into his subject, gathering a +wine-like thrill from the interested attention of the upturned faces; +faces which long jury experience made as readable to him as clear type, +and he threw more and more fire into his utterance, until he was borne +out of himself and into a realm of eloquence. With a characteristic +gesture, he leaned far outward and stretched his hand, index-like, +toward the edge of the crowd. Thus had he turned often from the jury-box +and scourged with figure and invective the man in the prisoner's dock. +It chanced that all unconsciously the finger went like an aimed weapon +to the face of Newt Spooner, and straightway the boy saw red. From his +mind passed the white brick façade of the bluegrass court-house, the sea +of hats and the field of shoulders, and in their stead there rose again +before him the dingy interior in Jackson, where he sat beside his +counsel, while this same man, with this same gesture, loosed on his head +all the bolts of the law's castigation. And at that same moment, playing +with hypnotic intensity on his audience, the Honorable Cale Floyd fell +instantly and suddenly silent, holding his bronze-like pose of +outstretched arm and hand. It was only for a momentary pause: an +oratorical trick of contrast and emphasis, out of which his voice would +presently ring again in compelling tones. But in that instant of quiet +there rose from the center of the crowd a sudden shuffle and a muffled +outcry accompanied by a swaying of bodies. It was so close to the stand +that the speaker, looking off more widely, was conscious of it only with +annoyance for a marred effect. But, as he drew himself erect once more, +to the undefined disturbance was added an outbreak of oaths, and, before +they had died away, several close pistol reports came spitting sharply +from the front, and little wisps of blue smoke twisted upward above the +hats. At once there followed a general pandemonium, shoving, shouting, +the shrill screams of women; an effort among the panic-stricken to get +away by climbing over those who obstructed them.</p> + +<p>With an oath, and an eloquent sweep of the hand to his pistol-pocket, +the town marshal left Newt, who stood with an enigmatical smile on his +lips, and went ploughing through the scattering mob toward the center of +the disturbance. For a breathing space, the speaker stood leaning on the +rail of the platform and looking out with no expression on his face save +one of chagrined interruption.</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner suppressed a snarl of contempt.</p> + +<p>"By God," he muttered to himself, "ef they didn't go an' plumb miss +him!"</p> + +<p>But, as he was still growling inwardly with disgust, the attorney +started to step back, reeled and crumpled limply to the floor of the +platform.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + + +<p>After the momentary shock of sudden panic the scattered auditors began +shamefacedly drifting back for inquiry and a solution.</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner saw General Braden and a companion carrying the limp figure +of the mountain lawyer down the stairway of the platform and heard them +cursing the lawlessness of the mountaineers who, "having made an +excursion from their own shambles were waging their damnable war on the +streets of a civilized town."</p> + +<p>He saw the crowd opening to let out several men who bore another +prostrate figure, and, as they passed, one glance at the face, which had +fallen back, loose-jawed, between the supporting arms, told him that +some one had "gotten" Jake Falerin. Then he saw the town marshal, +supported by half-dozen volunteer deputies, fighting for a passage +through the throng with the prisoners, whose bodies they shielded with +their own. This group made its way up the stairs, and flattened itself +against the court-house wall.</p> + +<p>Behind the drawn revolvers of the guard, the late convict recognized the +faces of Red Newton and his accomplice. Already the crowd, which had a +moment before been in panic-stricken flight, was pressing menacingly +forward, and talk of lynching ran like wildfire from mouth to mouth. The +officer was brandishing his pistol, and two of the volunteers were +holding aloft, in show of force, the revolvers they had taken from the +captives, whom they were waiting to slip through the court-house halls +to the jail. Someone had gone around to unlock the doors.</p> + +<p>The prisoners themselves stood stoically enough with mask-like faces, +and if the roar of bluegrass wrath intimidated them, their eyes and lips +showed no trace.</p> + +<p>The countenance of Red Newton even wore a satirical smile as he +commented to the other Spooner, loudly enough to be heard around a wide +radius:</p> + +<p>"These-here furriners air shore hell-bent on law an' order, hain't they? +They're bounden fer ter have hit, even if they has ter lynch folks ter +git hit."</p> + +<p>Then the door opened, and the officer with his prisoners backed swiftly +through it and slammed it in the faces of the crowd. Newt calmly walked +down the stairs, and strolled along the street. At a corner, he saw +Black Pete leaning nonchalantly against the wall in conversation with a +farmer, who was roundly berating the violence of the mountaineers. The +Deacon was chewing a wooden toothpick and regarding his chance companion +with grave and respectful attention, nodding his head in approval of the +sentiments expressed, but, as Newt passed him, he fell into step, and +the two walked together toward Mr. Cawsler's restaurant.</p> + +<p>"Son," suggested the quiet giant who had arranged the little tragedy of +the afternoon, "this town's going to be a right-bad place for us +mountain men for a time. If I was you, I'd dig out."</p> + +<p>"Thet's my business," retorted the other sullenly. "I've got a matter +ter settle up, fust—besides I reckon I kin prove I didn't have no hand +in these doin's. I was havin' speech with the policeman when hit busted +loose."</p> + +<p>The Deacon came as near smiling as he ever came. One side of his long +mustache tilted up, but his eyes remained sadly grave.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I can prove that I didn't have no part in it, either," he said +easily. "But some of these Falerins have seen me around town, and I +reckon they'll try to get me implicated. That Falkins crowd suspects +everybody. Come in here with me a minute, son."</p> + +<p>The Deacon turned and led the way into a saloon, already noisy with +excited men having recourse to drink and discussion.</p> + +<p>They passed through the place and into the yard at the rear, where, +after a look around to assure himself that they were alone, the older +man drew a heavy revolver from under his coat.</p> + +<p>"If they try to get me into it," he said calmly, "I'm going to make them +search me. Keep my gun for me a while, if you don't mind. You were with +the policeman, and they won't suspicion you."</p> + +<p>For a moment Newt hesitated, then came the thought of his own affairs. A +weapon was what, above all other things, he needed. Accordingly, he +took it silently, and slipped it inside his coat, and without a word or +a nod turned and walked back through the saloon, to disappear beyond its +swinging screens.</p> + +<p>When night came a two-thirds moon rode high and paled the summer stars +into pin-points. Newt Spooner knew from talk on the streets that the +lawyer would recover to reap greater reputation from the affair in +which, even after leaving the storm of his own country, he had fallen +under a mountain hand. But Jake Falerin would reap nothing from the +afternoon's doings beyond an obituary in the newspapers: an obituary +which would recount a sanguinary career closed with a sanguinary climax.</p> + +<p>These matters, however, gave Newt only minor concern. He was not to be +shaken from a fixed resolve by other men's hopes or disappointments. +Nightfall found him trudging out the moon-bathed turnpike between the +blue and silver mists of the fields; because, though uninvited, he was +going to a party. He was not going as a guest, nor yet wholly as an +onlooker. If one man was not among the guests, he would turn back from +the fringe of the festivity, touching it no further. If that one man was +there, Newt Spooner meant to break up the party, and add a sequel to the +shocking transpirings of the afternoon.</p> + +<p>Many buggies passed him, driving slowly, for the night was gracious with +the sweet fragrance of the young summer, and the occupants of the +vehicles were young, too, and no part of a summer dance is better than +the going thither and the coming home. From this caravan came the music +of much laughter, and now and then the lilting of a song: sounds as +unaccustomed to Newt Spooner as grand opera. But the only impression +made on him was the realization that he was too early; so, when he found +a thick grove flanking the road, he climbed the fence and lay down under +a hedge and rested. While he was stretched there in the dewy grass, he +cocked and uncocked the revolver to make sure that, when he needed it, +it would not fail him.</p> + +<p>It was a night for lovers and lovers were availing themselves of it, but +to Newt Spooner the seductive whispers through the upper branches of the +oaks carried no message of peace or minstrelsy. Yet, even to him, there +was a dumb sense that life here in the great "down below" was a +different thing, and, as he lay there fingering the mechanism of his +revolver, he could not escape a large and disturbing wonderment. The +breadth of the sky made him feel small and alone in the center of +vastness. At home, mountain walls rose confiningly on all sides and one +looked up at a narrowed patch of stars as if from the depth of a great +well. But here one could gaze away on the level of the eyes and watch +the wonderful phenomenon of a heaven coming down with its stars to meet +the edge of the flattened earth. At home, one would ride the dirt roads +on muleback and in silence, save where the hoofs splashed along the +creek-beds. But here the horses beat a sharp rat-tat with metal shoes on +a metaled road, and the rubber-tired wheels ran noiselessly. These +people, too, reversed the order of things even as their country reversed +them. At home, almost every one was poor; here every one seemed rich, +and the women, whom every mountaineer knows should be treated as +inferiors, suited only to the tasks of housework and child-rearing, were +treated by the men as equals. That he knew from the chatter and laughter +of those who passed in earshot, driving two and two. And what fools they +all were, for surely no people who were not fools could chatter and +laugh and sing!</p> + +<p>After an hour, the buggies passed less frequently, leaving the road free +of travel, except for town-faring negroes on foot and singing. Then Newt +Spooner came out from behind his hedge and made his way once more along +the turnpike. What his eyes had once seen his memory retained with +photographic distinctness, and as soon as he reached the beginning of +the low stone fence, which he had noted that afternoon, he knew that he +was drawing near the dance.</p> + +<p>But Newt would have known that he was near his destination without the +fence, for already, though blurred by the distance into an indistinct +and formless spot of brightness and color, he could make out the +illumination of the Chinese lanterns and there came to his ears across +the softness of the night the merry strains of a band playing a +two-step.</p> + +<p>The mountain boy made a rapid survey. The house sat deeply back in the +woodland, some five hundred yards from the road, but the platform, +though almost directly at its front, lay nearer the farther side. The +lateral fences of the woodland were lined with locust groves, giving a +band of shadow along the edges. He might have crossed the fence at the +nearest corner and worked his way back, but time was not an object, and +so, before selecting his route, he went along the turnpike to the other +side of the place for fuller reconnaissance, and found there even better +and more continuous cover. Also, by taking that side, he was further +from the driveway and would arrive closer to the platform without +leaving the shadow. As Newt crossed into the woodland, he became +invisible, thanks to the inky shade of the locusts, just now heavy with +fragrance of bloom. The thickets of his own rhododendron and laurel +could not have availed him more serviceably. At his left were acres of +undulating bluegrass, broken generously with forest trees, and between +the trees lay a silver lake of open moonlight, dotted with islands of +shadow. But, by following the fence line back, he could invisibly draw +near to the platform, and creep still closer under the shelter of a +heavy growth of lilac bushes.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, the mountain boy's heart began to pound in a strange way. He +had never been afraid of anything and he was not afraid now, but as he +crept, like a woodland animal, close enough to take in details, he felt +as a man might feel who finds himself pursuing an enemy on Mars. He was +in a new world and one so strange to him that its very difference +brought a sense of misgiving. He had been born and reared in a +windowless mountain cabin of one room. His light at night had been that +of crackling logs on a stone hearth and a single lamp without a chimney. +He had heard hatred of enemies preached before he could talk himself. +That his present purpose was righteous, he passionately believed; that +one should pay his blood-debt seemed axiomatic. Yet, as he looked out, +he could not shake off that sense of strange uneasiness. Something was +wrong. Perhaps it was simply the inarticulate realization that the scene +was set for merry-making and not for tragedy. At home, it was different. +The mountains were sterner and bred sterner emotions. The darkness there +seemed grimmer, too. This was not the night or place for a murder.</p> + +<p>Criss crossed about the platform and between the trees swayed the vivid +color splashes of the lanterns, like magnified and luminous confetti. +Sifting and eddying on the swaying floor went the rhythmic whirlpool of +dancers. The soft colors of evening gowns, the ivory flashes of girlish +shoulders and the floating of filmy scarfs dizzied the boy, who by the +iron dictate of heredity and upbringing was a human rattle-snake. The +strange sight of men in evening dress, their shirt-fronts gleaming like +conspicuous targets, added to his bewilderment.</p> + +<p>Between the trees passed strolling couples whose laughter lilted +musically, and, as he crept nearer in the shadow of the lilac bushes, he +saw a queer little affair which was also new to him, only a few yards +away. It was a rustic summer-house, over the timbers of which trailed +masses of honey-suckle, and into it, as he lay there peering sharply +ahead, went a man and a girl. The man was dutifully wielding a fan after +the flush of the dance and talking earnestly in a low tone, and the girl +was laughing up into his face with a silvery softness so unlike the +nasal voices of his own kind that Newt could make nothing of it. Nowhere +was the hint of hardship: the hardship which was in his country life's +dominant note. Back at the rear in the moonlight, the whitewashed barns +and fences gleamed like structures of ivory.</p> + +<p>He lay there on his stomach, his elbows on the ground and his chin in +his hands, trying to search the faces of the dancers. But the dancers +shifted and sifted in so bewildering a maze that even had they been +nearer at hand he could hardly have identified familiar features. Then +the music stopped, and he drew a breath of relief, for the platform +partly emptied itself, and, as the couples came down and strolled under +the lanterns, it was easier to search for the face he wanted to see.</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner had been there perhaps an hour while waltz and two-step +alternated to set the human mass he was trying to sift into fresh and +maddening puzzles of rapid movement and vagueness. At the distance he +had decided it was hopeless, and though the summer-house under the +honey-suckle seemed a favorite retreat to which couple after couple came +for a moment of rest and innocent flirtation, it had not proved a Mecca +for his victim, if indeed his victim were there at all. Of this +possibility he now felt a diminishing credulity. He would, nevertheless, +try to slip closer for a final scrutiny and then go back to town, +admitting temporary defeat. Then, as with snake-like movements he was +hitching himself forward, he suddenly stopped and crouched closer to the +ground and held his intaken breath in his throbbing throat.</p> + +<p>A new couple came out of the shadow and strolled across the patch of +open moonlight toward the summer-house. The girl was she who had picked +him up on the road, and the man was Henry Falkins. Even in evening +dress, there was no mistaking the features, and that shirt-front was a +target to even an amateur's taste.</p> + +<p>The girl wore a filmy gown and about her bare shoulders was thrown some +silky thing as iridescent as gossamer. But, unlike those others who had +come there, she was not laughing.</p> + +<p>Instead, she was looking up with a very direct gaze into the man's face, +and her eyes and lips bore a somewhat wistful seriousness.</p> + +<p>At the front of the summer-house, her companion stopped and broke a +spray of bloom from the vine.</p> + +<p>"It always reminds me of you," he told her in a soft voice. "There may +be sweeter fragrances, but I doubt it. I guess that's why."</p> + +<p>He lifted a drooping branch of leaf and bloom, and she passed under his +arm.</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner was lying only a few yards away, but he must be closer. The +mass of vine obscured his line of vision, and he had no wish to kill +the girl. Behind his ambuscade of trellised supports, he could come near +enough to reach his hand through and touch his victim if he chose. It +was almost too simple—too easy. Yet, after all, it was a bad +arrangement, though that he could not remedy. He must announce himself +to the man he meant to kill, or defeat the satisfaction of revenge. To +let him die without realizing why would rob the punishment of its sting. +Then the woman would doubtless make an outcry, and his chance of escape +would end. Besides that there was a second objection: the girl had +befriended him. He was to some extent "beholden to her." He wished now +that he had refused to drive with her; but, when he had accepted her +invitation, he had had no idea that his purpose could concern her, and +his purpose came first.</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner drew very near. He cautiously pulled back a branch of the +honey-suckle, and looked through. The girl was sitting with her eyes +downcast, and the man standing with one knee on the rough bench. He was +leaning forward and his voice, though tense with earnestness, was almost +a whisper. Newt might at that moment have been noisy instead of +noiseless without danger of distracting the attention of that man and +woman.</p> + +<p>At home in the mountains, Henry Falkins would have been more wary, but +here in the bluegrass he had laid aside all thoughts of danger, as he +had laid aside his high-laced boots and corduroys. He was standing at +the other side of life's gamut. Enmity, for him, did not exist. The +universe was filled, he believed at that moment, to the boundary of the +last sentinel star with love. The night breathed it. He was breathing +it, the girl's eyes were just then raised to meet his, brimming with a +light that set his pulses bounding.</p> + +<p>"Back there in the hills," he said, "there is a place high up the +mountainside that looks down on such a night as this over an ocean of +silver mists in the valley. I have often gone there alone and listened +to the nightingale talking about you. After this," he added joyously, +"all nights will be moonlight and starlight for me, dear, if—" But +there he broke off and became silent.</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner advanced one knee a few inches, and steadied his position. +He drew the vine back a little further with his left hand, and slowly +thrust his right into his coat pocket. When it came back, it held the +pistol, and this Newt placed at his back, that the soft click of its +cocking might be muffled by his intervening body.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The stars were as bright and the moon as serene that night back in the +broken ramparts of the mountains as here in the lowlands. No hint of +brewing tragedy disturbed the majesty of the summits that raised their +crests into the cobalt, or marred the silvery flood that bathed the +valleys.</p> + +<p>Where the college buildings nestled in a tidy village near the waters of +Fist-fight Creek, the picture was a nocturne that must have brought joy +to the heart of a painter whose soul responds to the beautiful.</p> + +<p>Already, in the dormitories, most of the children were asleep, but one +girl, who was half child and half woman, crept noiselessly down the +stairs of the building where she had her room, and made her way to the +creek-bank.</p> + +<p>She had spent a longer time over her studies than had her fellow pupils, +because in her serious little breast burned a hunger for that education +which might open new ways and make for her a life beyond the +imprisonment of her environment.</p> + +<p>In years, Minerva Rawlins was a child, but the life of her people brings +early maturity and into her little brain had recently been creeping the +restlessness of new things—and of womanhood. To-night, the plaintive +call of the whippoorwills from the deep shadows of the timber was a call +to be under open skies, where the thoughts that assailed her might not +feel cramped within walls. There were many things of which she must +think—and it happened that the subject uppermost in her mind was Henry +Falkins.</p> + +<p>She went with lithe tread and pliant carriage down beyond the saw-mill +to a spot where the sycamores hung low by the waters that swirled in a +cascade over a litter of huge rocks. On the steep mountainside beyond, +the flowering laurel and rhododendron were thick, and the forests hardly +showed a scar from the axes that had claimed the timber for the +buildings. She had discovered that here through a gap between two +summits she could see the same pale star to which the single pine had +pointed back there from the front door of the cabin, which, wretched as +it was, had been her only idea of home. In the silvers and grays and +cobalts of the picture, and in the night song of the whippoorwills and +booming frogs, there was solace, and to-night she wanted solace.</p> + +<p>She told herself that this restlessness which would not let her sleep +was loneliness; but beyond that single feeling were others more complex +for which she had no analysis.</p> + +<p>There was the starving eagerness for something very different from what +wares life had ever spread to her gaze, some yearning that had crept +down through lapsed generations from an ancestor or ancestress who had +known the courtly life of Old Virginia before the pioneer tide swept +them westward to their stranding. This hunger was a fiery thing, which +made the eagerness to learn blaze hotly because its attainment meant +struggle.</p> + +<p>Then there was the conflict between that loyalty which the code of the +Cumberlands impresses as a cardinal duty upon its children, and an +insurgent hatred for the squalid family into which her father's second +marriage had thrown her.</p> + +<p>The law of feudalism and of the clan writes at the head of its +decalogue, "Kith and kin above all." Minerva would have resented an +implication of wanted staunchness, and yet as she sat with her small and +well-chiseled chin cradled in the hands, which drudgery must soon make +hard and shapeless, her eyes filled with tears and her slender body +trembled with instinctive repulsion at the thought of return to the +cabin where the razor-backed hogs would scratch their backs under the +gaping floor timbers, and where darkness hung day-long between +smoke-blackened rafters.</p> + +<p>And though she did not admit that either, a part of the restlessness was +the awakening of womanhood, and the woman's hunger for love. She thought +of all the young men she knew back there; of the boorish creatures whose +breath reeked with moonshine whiskey, and whose thoughts were as coarse +as their brogans, and once more a shiver ran through her.</p> + +<p>It all made her feel very wicked. She had come to the college and +learned a little, and she had learned above all a fastidious discontent, +which was poisoning her thoughts.</p> + +<p>She told herself she ought to be very happy. Then a smile stole across +her face as she sat there in the moonlight, and she drew from the collar +of her calico dress a small medal on a string. It was a medal that had a +few days before been awarded her for proficiency, but to her it stood +for the nearest glimpse she had ever had of romance, though of romance +passing by like a caravan which she had viewed from the wayside.</p> + +<p>There had been spelling matches and recitations and the award of small +prizes at the college, and the rough folk had trooped in from the +countryside, riding mules or walking from many miles about. Women had +come in bright-hued calicoes and sun-bonnets, and bearded, gaunt men in +hodden-gray. Through that gathering and above it, since one who is very +young and very inexperienced may be pardoned for a finger-touch from the +gods of romance, a figure had stood out for Minerva Rawlins, endowed +with every superiority.</p> + +<p>The guests of honor on that occasion had been Old Mack Falkins and his +son Henry. Old Mack had made a speech and, in awarding the prizes, his +son had followed him. The people of the countryside had listened, and +their applause had rocked the rafters, with that sincerity of admiration +which they accorded to his native-born eloquence. But it was the younger +man who had brought to Minerva Rawlins her first stir of hero-worship; +the adulation of the inexperienced young girl for the first man she had +seen who seemed an exemplar and a revelation.</p> + +<p>Comparison is the one yard-stick of life, and by comparison this young +man, who had lived the life of the outer world as well as that at home, +might well have loomed large to such impressionable eyes.</p> + +<p>Minerva was seeing that scene again; the school-room with its shuffling +audience, and the young speaker whose words carried no taint of dialect +or inelegance, as he spoke of the torch which was being lighted here to +dispel the murk of illiteracy.</p> + +<p>What Henry Falkins had said became in a fashion Minerva's standards. She +found herself hating the lawlessness of the feud and the squalor of +backwoods ignorance. She found herself wishing to be a recruit in the +little army that sought to raise other ideals—but most of all she +found herself longing rebelliously for the chance to have in her own +life the companionship of some man like that. To herself she put it that +way. She did not say <i>that</i> man, but, when she said "some man like +that," the features and bearing and voice of young Falkins portrayed +themselves, and as she sat with the medal in her fingers, listening to +the whippoorwills, her fancy conjured up his image.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + + +<p>When Newt Spooner had begun his search for Henry Falkins that afternoon +he had not been so unobserved as he thought himself. Not very far behind +him had walked Red Newton. He had not left Cawsler's with any intention +of spying upon the boy and had seen him only by chance, yet when the +latter halted in front of the hotel and stood there with the telltale +expression which the recognition of Falkins brought to his face, Red +Newton observed it and slipped silently into the door of a convenient +store. When Newt went running excitedly back to Cawsler's place, the +brain of the older clansman began to work rapidly. To his memory +recurred the tirade that had broken so tempestuously from the boy's +lips.</p> + +<p>"I knows what I'm atter. I knows who I'm ergwine ter git. Thar's a +feller I'm ergwine ter kill." The unforgiving malice in the boy's eyes, +the rigid posture of his whole body as he stood contemplating his enemy, +told Red Newton the whole story. This, then, was the man Newt meant to +kill. It was logical enough. This was the witness who had riddled the +alibi.</p> + +<p>At first, Red Newton shrugged his shoulders in the fashion of one who +has no call to meddle in the affairs of others, but as fresh aspects of +the matter presented themselves to his consideration, a very real danger +to all his family arose to confront him.</p> + +<p>If Newt should shoot Henry Falkins on the streets of Winchester before +the speaking of this afternoon, it would stir into action such a tidal +wave of public indignation against the mountaineers that the more vital +conspiracy would be thwarted. He surmised that Newt was rushing back to +Cawsler's place to arm himself, and his first instinct was to follow. +Then he remembered that the place was now empty save for the drunken +Dode, and Cawsler himself, whose discretion could be trusted. So, he +took no action, and, when later the same buggy passed the court-house +and within a few moments Newt went swinging along after it on foot, the +disappointed face of the boy told the other that he had failed. Red +Newton rubbed his stubbled chin reflectively, bit off a large chew of +tobacco and withdrew into his inner consciousness for reflection. As the +result of those cogitations he strolled over to the hitching rack where +he found a lowland farmer with whom he had spent a part of the morning +talking cattle.</p> + +<p>"Stranger," he suggested, "I 'lowed I'd love to ride out the road a +piece, an' I figgered I'd ask ye ter lend me yore horse fer about a +half-hour. I hain't ergwine fur, an' I won't ride him hard. I'll do es +much fer you when you come up my way."</p> + +<p>With ready assent, the farmer went over and untied his plug, and Red +Newton swung himself to the saddle. Then he rode slowly and casually +after the boy. He did not try to overtake him, satisfying himself with +keeping him in sight, while he himself remained too far back to be +recognizable. But Red Newton had affairs of consequence in town, so, as +soon as he was satisfied that Newt had lost sight of the buggy, he +turned back. He intended to mention the circumstance to Black Pete, but +Black Pete was keeping discreetly out of sight, and so he found no +opportunity for speech with him.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the throng about the court-house was thickening, and Red +Newton caught sight of Jake Falerin making his way to a place near the +stand. That was his own cue for action, so, forgetting minor things, and +keeping as inconspicuous as possible, he began edging toward a position +of proximity in Falerin's rear. He signaled with a nod to one of his +kinsmen, who was standing silently, but alertly, a little way off, and +who at once began working forward in answer to the sign. The plan worked +with well-oiled smoothness. Red Newton came so close that he almost +brushed shoulders with his intended victim, and even when he stood at +Jake Falerin's back, chewing his tobacco with as little expression as a +cow chewing its cud, Falerin did not turn around or suspect his +presence.</p> + +<p>As the speaking went forward, Red Newton cast his eyes about, and placed +those of his kinsmen who were present. It had not been deemed advisable +to have the clan largely represented, and it gave him pleasure to +recognize that Falerins largely out-numbered Spooners. Later, when the +question of self-defense and placing the responsibility arose, it would +appear that the Falkins element had come en masse, and from this +circumstance would arise a presumption of malice aforethought on their +part. That would materially strengthen the Spooner defense. In dividing +the mountain men into the two factions of Spooner and Falkins, Red +followed the classification of the feud. The Falerins and Hulburts and +their kindred were "Falkinses," though they bore other names, just as he +himself, though a Newton, was nevertheless a Spooner.</p> + +<p>At the psychological moment, Red Newton stepped forward and violently +dug his elbow into Jake Falerin's midriff. Falerin wheeled to see who +was crowding him, and the eyes of the two mountaineers met in a glance +which escaped the generality of upturned faces. So well did each +understand what a quarrel between them must mean that Jake did not hedge +an inch nor attempt to evade the issue. He planted his left fist on Red +Newton's jaw, while he drew with his right. But Red Newton was the more +prepared, though, as he reeled back under the blow, he would have +fallen, had there been room to fall. As it was he leaned against the +crowd, and fired from that position, just a fraction of a second before +Falerin's weapon came free of the holster. It was only those directly at +Red's back who saw the swift play, and to their eyes it bore the seeming +of self-defense. In the same instant, the kinsman at Red Newton's +shoulder fired on the attorney so suddenly that it looked as if he too +were aiming at Falerin's head, instead of just to its side.</p> + +<p>Later in the afternoon, Black Pete, whose name had been mentioned to the +commonwealth attorney by several of the Falerins, walked voluntarily +into the office of that functionary. His demeanor was quiet and deeply +grieved. Moreover, it was characterized by a show of frankness that was +disarming. He said he would be glad to submit to a search—that he never +went armed. He feared that in an indirect way, though entirely without +his intent, he had been instrumental in bringing on the afternoon's +deplorable tragedy. The commonwealth's attorney was astounded at this +unsolicited statement, verging so closely on a confession, and felt +impelled to warn the Deacon that he might yet find himself a defendant, +and that whatever he said would be used against him. Had the Deacon been +addicted to smiling he would have smiled then. As it was, he only nodded +his head gravely, half sadly, as he stood there, his hands in his +pockets, and his steady gray eyes unwaveringly holding those of his +inquisitor.</p> + +<p>"I reckon that's right, an' I'm obliged to you," he answered +respectfully, "but I find as I go 'long that a man gets just as far by +tellin' the full truth."</p> + +<p>"Just as you like. What part did you have in this affair?" demanded the +state prosecutor—a little too eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you'd better let me tell it my own way," suggested Black Pete +imperturbably. "I haven't got much education and I may ramble a little, +but I'll do my best. You know all about the feud, I reckon? I went West +years ago, and out there I got to see that these things are foolish. A +sort of truce was patched up finally, and it was agreed that I must stay +West, and Jake Falerin must leave the mountains, too. I got a little +money saved up, and sent word that I was comin' home to settle up a +mortgage on my sister's farm, and attend to some other family business. +I didn't aim to stay, and I haven't been any closer to the mountains +than right here. I wasn't goin' any closer till everybody agreed to it. +I didn't think these fellers would fight right here in Winchester."</p> + +<p>The Deacon stood with the regretful air of one who has been disappointed +in his confidence as to the worthiness of others. At last, he continued +in a conscience-stricken tone:</p> + +<p>"I've been studyin' about it considerable since it happened. I'm afraid +the Falerins saw me, and figured I'd broke the truce by comin' back, +and, when Jake met Red in the crowd, they both got panicky, and begun to +shoot."</p> + +<p>That was all the Deacon had to state except his promise to remain in +Winchester, subject to the call of the commonwealth. He knew that no +one, save a handful whom he could trust, could implicate him in the +conspiracy, which he had devised and engineered. His claws and fangs +were well-tucked under his sheep's hide of innocence. While he was in +the law-office, the jailer arrived with news that Red Newton and his +other prisoner had asked to see Black Pete Spooner, with a view to +employing counsel for their defense. The Deacon turned to the +commonwealth's attorney.</p> + +<p>"What do you think?" he said. "I reckon these boys have that privilege, +haven't they? I want to be fair all round. If they did shoot in +self-defense, I want them to have their rights, but I'll be here if you +need me."</p> + +<p>So, late in the afternoon, in the privacy of the cell which the two +mountaineers complacently shared, the Deacon heard from Red how the boy, +Newt, fresh from the penitentiary, was already on the trail of a +"marked-down" victim. It was news that disconcerted the master assassin +to a degree which he would not have cared to admit. These men depended +upon making a case of self-defense, and looked to him to see them +through. The gravest element that confronted them was the violent +dislike of the bluegrass, where they must face trial, for the murderous +tendencies of the mountains. If there should occur on the heels of the +first tragedy a second, traceable to a mountain man, the fat would be in +the fire. At all costs, young Newt must for the present hold his hand. +Above all else, that was imperative. Black Pete questioned the prisoner +searchingly and learned that Newt had gone out Main Street, and Red had +followed him for some distance. Therefore, that was the road young Newt +would watch, and the road upon which young Newt must be watched. Cawsler +later reported the manner in which the boy had come demanding arms, and +the Deacon bitterly regretted having surrendered to him his own pistol.</p> + +<p>And Newt had disappeared. Of each Spooner he met, the Deacon demanded +news of his whereabouts. Finally, near the court-house, he met a man who +had seen the sought-for one sauntering slowly out the road near the edge +of town. Since it was only a few minutes before, he could not have gone +far.</p> + +<p>The Deacon hurried forward, and from a party of incoming negroes he +learned of the dance, which explained the procession of buggies and gave +him a clew. Probably, Newt had learned that his intended victim would be +there. At least, it would be worth investigating. But of Newt himself he +saw nothing, for when he reached the spot where the boy had climbed the +fence to kill time behind the hedge, he unwittingly passed him by. At +the beginning of the stone fence, where he caught first the music and +the light of the festivities, his eye took in the growth of locusts and +his mountain mind reckoned by swift processes. Here was such natural +cover as a man would be likely to seek in working his way +surreptitiously rearward. He had begun to fear he might be too late, in +which event his coming at all would be more fatal than staying away. +That haste prevented his using the most exhaustive caution, and so he +did not explore to the far side of the woodland, but crossed the fence +at the nearest corner and went swiftly back, skulking in the shadow. In +point of fact, instead of being later than the boy, he arrived first, +but on the opposite side of the broad lawn. When he had gone back as far +as the house level, his painstaking search commenced. He was not only +endeavoring to remain concealed, important as that was, but also to +penetrate the shadows and find the other hidden man. It was a thing that +would have been sheer impossibility but for his splendid wood-craft and +the catlike focus of his eyes in the night. So, when he had exhausted +the possibilities on that side of the house to his full satisfaction, he +recognized his mistake, and knew that he had wasted precious time. He +should be on the far side, and, taking a long detour which carried him +far to the rear of the barns and led him behind the fence line of the +paddock lots, he worked his way up again to the front until he reached +the edge of the lilac bushes, and could see the summer-house. To that +spot he began crawling noiselessly, and, led by a sure instinct, and +while still some fifty yards away, his trained eye caught a stealthy +shadow also hitching forward at his front. There still lay between him +and Newt Spooner the matter of some thirty yards, and, even if he rose +to his feet and ran for it, he would overtake the boy so close to the +vine-covered retreat that any sound of interference would result in the +discovery of both. He did not personally know that the summer-house was +occupied, but he argued it from the movements of the other skulker. Newt +was so engrossed in his hate that at this particular moment he had eyes +and ears only for the front. Between the lilac thicket where Black Pete +crouched and the vine shadows where Newt knelt, lay an open space of +flooding radiance, but it was directly behind the summer-house, and, +unless Newt saw him crossing it, no one was apt to see. The Deacon rose +to his feet and ran for it.</p> + +<p>As Newt thrust the revolver behind him to cock it, Black Pete's hand +closed silently around his, and Black Pete's thumb was jammed between +the back-drawn hammer and the firing-pin.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>Black Pete's thumb was jammed between the back-drawn +hammer and the firing pin.</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + + +<p>Henry Falkins and Lucinda Merton had not kept close count on the flying +moments since they had entered the summer-house. The girl had promised +to sit out two consecutive dances with him, since to-morrow morning he +must go back to the mountains. So, having only a little while and much +to say, he had plunged in, and, though his voice was low, his words came +tumultuously. Of course, she knew that he was in love with her, but +until to-night it had been a thing which had been given no concrete +declaration. Except for a glow of confession in her eyes, she had said +nothing of loving him. Yet now, when he wished to claim every moment for +himself, she had asked him to tell her about his hills and their people, +of whom she and her world knew so little.</p> + +<p>"I want you to understand the life and conditions there," he told her, +"and yet I don't want to talk of that to-night. I would like to paint +for you true pictures of my mountains just as they look under this moon, +as they will look when to-morrow's sun comes up over the peaks and +begins to drive away the lingering mists; of the elder bushes and +rhododendron and wild roses that bloom on the tangled slopes; but +to-night I want to talk only of you and me."</p> + +<p>He paused, and her voice carried a responsive thrill as she said:</p> + +<p>"I should love your mountains! It must all be very beautiful—but so +different from this." Her eyes traveled out with native pride over the +smooth opulence of the country, which had seemed the Promised Land to +the eyes of its pioneer discoverers.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he admitted; "it is very different. We have rugged fields and +rugged people. Down here you spring from Cavalier stock. But to-night +there are in the world only ourselves. Let's talk of our private +universe." His voice was feverishly eager. "Until I can in some way +improve my fortunes, God knows I ought to be silent as to love." He +leaned forward and added desperately: "But I can't be silent. After all, +what is the use? You know I love you. If I never spoke a syllable of it, +you would still know it. You can feel it in the tremor of my hand when I +take yours in greeting. And if I lock my lips, my eyes give them the +lie. You know I love you, but you will never know how much."</p> + +<p>He leaned forward and his breath came fast while his heart pounded with +the great anxiety of putting his fortunes to the touch. He had knowledge +of other lovers who had come and gone; gone very reluctantly, from the +quest of her heart.</p> + +<p>He had known her a year, and friendship had grown into that intimacy +which tacitly admits something deeper than the casual. In her house he +had been accepted almost as a member of the family—but that need not +mean that he was accepted as a lover. In his mountains such an +association would have been tantamount to an engagement, but here in the +bluegrass it was different.</p> + +<p>There had been sometimes a quality in her smile which he had never seen +on her lips or in her eyes for other men, and she must know of his love. +Still, he had heretofore been content to hope without certainty—and now +the moment had come when, if he had builded on false dreams, he must +wake to a reality of which he could think only with terror.</p> + +<p>For his own crude land, he was a rich man, whose status was the status +of a baron; but, down here in the counties of aristocracy and wealth, he +was poor and a mountaineer.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he went on, with a voice that came from a taut throat, +which he forced into measured syllables, "I suppose that until I can +offer you a home like this, I should not ask you to confess a love for +me, even if you could feel it. I can't even ask you to marry me yet, and +still because you must know it, because you have a heart that must tell +you, it seems to me that it is only hypocritical to lock my lips. My +heart is too full to be damned up. It must have utterance. It must say, +'I love you.' I can't go on any longer being just a favored friend." He +paused a moment and wiped the moisture of his anxiety from his brow, and +his voice was tensely even in its control. "It means too much now, for +that. If I am living in a fool's paradise I must know it before it is +too late. They say we men of the Cumberlands have somber natures that +take things seriously. To hope too long—and then fail—" He broke off +again and added quietly—"that would be a thing that would utterly ruin +me. I love you."</p> + +<p>The girl did not at once speak. He saw that her face was downcast and +that her breast rose and fell, in an emotion which might be pity. +Perhaps she, too, found speech difficult because she was merciful. A man +and a girl were coming toward the summer-house, and Henry Falkins +watched them with a fascination of fear lest they interrupt. The seconds +seemed to stretch into an interminable suspense. Slowly he put out his +hand, and took hers. Her fingers trembled in his grasp and slowly he +bent and kissed her lowered head.</p> + +<p>"I am waiting," he whispered; but something in the voice said more and +told her of the torture of his doubt.</p> + +<p>At last, very slowly, her face came up and her eyes met his. They were +misty eyes, but smiling, and as he bent with a wild leaping of his +pulses and took her in his arms, her lips, too, met his, responsive to +his kisses.</p> + +<p>Finally he rose, and now it was his own hands that trembled and his own +senses that swam with the intoxication of a happiness which seemed to +him miraculous.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," laughed the girl, "I ought to be ashamed to surrender so +quickly—but I'm not. I'm very proud."</p> + +<p>For a moment after that they sat silent and across the moonlight came +the band music and the softened laughter of the dancers. And it was at +that moment that Newt Spooner, so close that they could almost have +heard his breathing, was reaching into his pocket for his borrowed +revolver. The pause was brief, for the girl, looking into her lover's +eyes, became suddenly beset by a new thought—perhaps some subtle +premonition—and in its wake came panic. She laid her hands on his +shoulders and bent so close that he could feel the play of her breath on +his forehead.</p> + +<p>"But you are going back there," she exclaimed; "back to the mountains, +and I'm afraid. Are you in any danger, because, if you are, you sha'n't +go! I won't let you go. Why, only to-day, there in Winchester, think +what happened!"</p> + +<p>The man laughed.</p> + +<p>"I sha'n't be hurt," he assured her. "Your love will be my talisman."</p> + +<p>"If my love has such power," she exclaimed, "you will go on living to +the end of time."</p> + +<p>He took her two hands in his.</p> + +<p>"Let's have no thought of danger to-night," he said. "To-night belongs +to love, dearest: to love and to us."</p> + +<p>And that was the exact moment at which Black Pete Spooner closed his +hand over the pistol, thrusting his thumb between hammer and pin, and +his forefinger between trigger and guard.</p> + +<p>So suddenly interrupted at the threshold of his attainment, a man from +the lowlands would have betrayed himself with oath or exclamation, or at +least have struggled noisily in the grip that thwarted him. Newt +Spooner was a mountaineer. Ambuscading caution was to him as instinctive +as to the fox or weasel. He felt his hand drawn down at his back so +forcibly that, crouching with his weight on one knee and one foot, he +could not rise—yet he remained utterly noiseless. He carefully turned +his head, and at the distance of a few inches recognized, even in the +darkness, the drooping mustache and square jaw of the Deacon. The Deacon +was holding a finger of the disengaged hand to his lips in an imperative +command for silence. Black Pete was always a diplomat. He regarded this +moment as one of rather desperate crisis, calling for extreme finesse.</p> + +<p>No word of explanation could be spoken; the slightest sound of scuffling +would give the alarm fatal to both. He knew that the implacable hatred +of this single-idead boy was not a thing to yield readily. So he +continued to put into his manner and touch something of subtle and +friendly reassurance, lest Newt flare into reckless and needless +antagonism. And Newt felt at the moment a wave of relief in recognizing +one of his own people.</p> + +<p>The strategist gently shook the hand which held the weapon in hint that +Newt should surrender it, while he nodded and laid the other hand +conciliatingly on the boy's shoulder. But Newt, although he made no +sound or motion, held tightly to the pistol, and so for a moment while +Henry Falkins was boasting of his safety with the confidence of youth +and love, his intended assassin crouched not six feet away while the +man who sought to prevent his act bent over him, holding his hand, and +the wills of the two wrestled in utter silence.</p> + +<p>There is in all leaders, good or bad, a psychological, almost hypnotic +element of power which can, at need, act without words. Black Pete was +recognized so thoroughly as a man of leadership that the enemy talked +peace only on the basis of his exile. Newt Spooner had always regarded +him with awe as the leader of his clan. Moreover, the Deacon's attitude +just now was rather that of a friend who carried a warning than that of +an enemy. The hypnotism of his masterful quiet was telling on the +infuriated boy and yet there flared anew in his breast a dangerous +resentment against the balking of his purpose. How it might have ended +is problematical, but as they held their strained pose, and as Henry +Falkins talked on in false security, a second couple came strolling to +the summer-house. Finding it occupied, they banteringly apologized for +intrusion, while Miss Merton and her escort blushingly declared +themselves on the point of departure, and went back to the dance. So the +chance was gone. Slowly, Newt surrendered his pistol, and the Deacon +silently rose to his feet and pointed off through the bushes. The boy +strode sullenly on ahead and neither he nor his captor made a sound or +spoke a word until they had progressed so far into the shadow that they +were safe from overhearing. Then and then only Newt wheeled. His voice +was almost a sob in its bitter and vibrant passion, as, with blazing +eyes and snarling teeth, he demanded:</p> + +<p>"What in hell did ye do thet fur? Damn ye, he b'longs ter me. Ye didn't +hev no call ter interfere." He threw himself prone on the ground, +clawing into it with his lean fingers as a frenzied animal might claw, +and his thin body racked itself with silent sobs of anger and +frustration. It ended in a fit of coughing which he could not control, +and which he smothered in his two hands until the paroxysm passed.</p> + +<p>The Deacon sought to soothe him. Most mountaineers speak with a nasal +harshness, but this man had the exceptional quality that gave to his +words an ingratiating and velvety smoothness.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, son. I wouldn't have interfered, only I was obliged to. +He's your enemy, and he did you wrong, but this ain't the moment to kill +him. Go back home and bide your time. If you need help, call on me after +a little."</p> + +<p>"Hits as fitten a time es any," blurted Newt tensely. "They hain't no +manner of use puttin' hit off. I tells ye I'm ergwine ter git him. Hit +hain't ergwine ter do no good to argify with me. Nothin' hain't ergwine +ter change me none."</p> + +<p>"Son," insisted the other calmly, "I ain't aimin' to change you. I've +never let men change me, have I? But there's a time for everything, an' +just now you must hearken to me." He sketched briefly and forcibly his +interviews in the office of the commonwealth attorney and at the jail. +He enlarged on the fatality of having another shooting by a mountaineer +tread so close on the heels of the first tragedy.</p> + +<p>"You ain't aimin' to put these boys' necks into ropes, son," he +suggested chidingly at the end. "You can get your man without makin' +your own kin pay such a steep price. All I ask of you is to pass me your +word that you won't do anything until you get back to the hills. Seems +to me that's fair enough."</p> + +<p>Newt sat silent for a time, scowling blackly, but at last he rose and +nodded.</p> + +<p>"I gives ye my hand on thet—because I don't see no way ter holp +myself," he capitulated. It is the mountain's formula of oath, and +though the men who use it rarely shake hands, its utterance is a +recognized bond.</p> + +<p>"Come along to town with me," suggested the Deacon. "You can sleep at my +boardin' place, and in the morning you can start out."</p> + +<p>But to that proposition Newt shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I aims ter start right now, es soon es I kin buy a snack ter put in my +pocket," he announced decisively. "Which road goes towards Jackson?" +When at last he did lie down for sleep that night, it was under the lee +of a last year's straw stack and surrounded by the rustling spears of +this year's corn, where he could look up at the stars and call defiantly +upon them all to bear witness that he had no intention of being deterred +by the interference of any man.</p> + +<p>It had been a very exhausting day, strenuous with much footsore +tramping; strenuous, too, with the buffeting of emotions as sudden and +violent as the tempests which sometimes swept across his hills; bending +the forests, lashing the sandstone ramparts, shrieking through valleys +and cannonading along the slopes. And like the hills when such a storm +has wreaked its noisy wrath and swollen all the thread-like streams to +freshets, he lay by his straw stack supine and shaken. It seemed to him +that he had only just stretched himself out on the straw when he opened +his eyes to see the east pallidly kindling with the preface of dawn, yet +it had been long enough for his limbs to have cramped and chilled under +the moisture of the night. He rose and ate a small supply of his +provender, and took a swig from the flask, wiping the mouth of the +bottle with his palm, after the custom of his country. After that he +started on with the gray dawn growing rosy at his front. At length, he +halted and drew a long breath of relief and satisfaction, for already he +was beginning to recognize, in the changing character of the country, +harbingers of home. The smooth swell of the bluegrass began to break +into a choppier formation and assume raggedness, while far away the +sky-line was broken by a climbing back-bone of foothills.</p> + +<p>Unless he could mend his rate of travel he had still ahead several days +of journeying, but early in the afternoon, when he sat down to rest, it +was by a woodland stream where the underbrush grew in a tangle and the +wild roses were blooming among scrub oaks. Cornucopias of the +trumpet-flower flared vividly, and here and there he caught a glimpse +of a chinked log-cabin. That night he slept at Clay City, where the +channel of Red River was almost choked with logs; logs floated down from +higher up. Once more he slept in a "feather-bed," for a distant relative +had taken him in, willing to "eat an' sleep him" for no greater +remuneration than the news of what had happened in Winchester; willing +even to produce from some hidden place a jug from which moonshine liquor +ran white and colorless.</p> + +<p>The next day brought such a dawn as he had not seen since he had left +Jackson with cuffed wrists, a dawn in which the sun did not blaze forth +at once unobscured, but came up to dissipate the mists and flare redly +through their vanishing, before he stood forth master of the day. And +even then the skies were full of sullen hinting at rain. Nature seemed +to brood in accord with his own dreariness of mind; and wisps of cloud +trailed down the summits, as he nodded with a curt, "I'm obleeged ter +ye," and pushed onward, boring into hills that grew ever taller and +wilder.</p> + +<p>At last, he came to Jackson, the shack town that is the county seat of +Breathitt, which the world knows as "bloody." But even the twisting and +steep streets beyond the bridge offered this traveler no security for +tarrying. Jackson knew that in Winchester Jake Falerin had fallen, and +that Black Pete was back from the West, and Jackson was a Falerin +strong-hold. The outlook was for stormy days, and it would be as well +for the boy to push at once to his own section, some twenty miles away, +where along the waters of Troublesome and Lost Creeks he would be among +his own people. In front of the court-house and along the main street he +saw groups of men, some of them Falkinses and some Spooners, and though +there was no open hostility, they separated studiously into their own +respective groups and their movements were characterized by an alertness +which told of mutual and restive suspicion.</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner was not afraid, but just now he was not wasting his +activities. Moreover, he was still half-sick and not courting quarrels +save those of his own choosing. As he strolled through the streets of +the town, no one seemed to notice him. He had been forgotten. He paused +before the court-house with the small "jail-house" squatting in the yard +and surveyed both with wormwood bitterness of unforgiving memory.</p> + +<p>Across the street where brick banks and modern plate-glass store fronts +stood jammed between frontier-like shacks, he halted once more. Court +was adjourning for the noon recess, and a homicide jury came out of the +dingy doors, marching in columns of twos, while behind, shirt-sleeved +and collarless, stalked the sheriff, herding the panel to its mid-day +meal and bearing a long hickory staff. They were rude and bearded men, +for the most part spare and sinewy, but the elder among them tramped +with a shambling gait that told of unrelieved drudgery.</p> + +<p>Newt made his way to the north end of the town, and took the road +across the hills. By nightfall he would be in his own territory.</p> + +<p>Now he was once more treading familiar trails, and though he was tired +and the way became steeper, he walked with a resilient stride. The roads +along the valley gulches were only creek-beds, and where they looped +over the tops of ridges they were uneven stairways of broken rock. +Sometimes for a little space they ran level along high banks where the +sand was like that of a beach. But Newt had taken off his shoes and as +he splashed along the water courses, where straining "jolt-wagons" had +cut smooth ruts almost hub-deep into the shaly beds, the grateful water +stimulated him. About him were great forests almost virgin to the ax. +Spruce pines and walnuts and poplars towered over him, and the road +dipped often through a gloom like that of a dim chapel. Down there +little cascades whispered, and out of fern banks rose huge brown and +gray and green bowlders of sandstone, like altars of the Druids. The +rhododendron, which his people called "laurel," and the laurel, which +they called "ivy," cloaked the open slopes. It was a country where a +good walker can travel faster afoot than mounted. He drank from wayside +springs and from the flask which his kinsman had refilled. His mind +turned to its magnet, and he planned anew the death of Henry Falkins, +but now that he was at home he planned with confidence of success and in +this conviction he found a certain contentment. It was something to be +where he belonged and something to walk free of the chaingang. Around +him the hills closed in comforting tiers of ramparts. From the high +points of the road, he could look off over valleys to other peaks and +see here and there the roof of a cabin with its small patch of corn and +its rude out-houses. He passed tilting fields where red and blue calico +dresses flashed as entire families worked with hoes, and roadside +habitations of logs where raggedy children fled inside to gaze timidly +around the corners of door-jambs. Razor-backed hogs and flocks of geese +wandered near every habitation, and mules flapped their long ears as +they looked out from primitive stables, fashioned by closing in with +fence shelters under overhanging shelves of rock.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + + +<p>When the pitchiness of night closed in until it seemed that the +mountains moved up and huddled closer together, Newt was on +well-remembered roads and did not pause. In an hour or two the moon +would be up, and he would reach the cabin which he called home.</p> + +<p>With the coming of the moon the hills underwent a wizardry of beauty +which was lost on the boy. First, silvery threads of light began to +weave along the bristling ridges of the east and opalescent flecks to +glimmer overhead. Then a soft blue-gray light filtered down the slopes; +throwing the shoulders of the mountains into relief and bathing the +lowlands in a luminous mist. The waters of Troublesome caught the glint +and the frogs boomed out from bass to treble, while back in the timbered +slopes the whippoorwills set up a plaintive chorus.</p> + +<p>Ahead of him Newt saw his destination. A cabin of logs stood darkly at +the side of the road, marking his journey's end. Though the moon struck +across the small hard-tramped yard, the house threw its shadow forward +and was itself a block of darkness from which shone no light. That was +because there was no light to shine, except what came from the +fireplace, and because there was no window through which it might show. +But Newt needed no illumination. He knew every wretched detail by heart. +There was one room only, except for the lean-to shed, which served as +kitchen and dining-room, and that was reached by going outside and +walking around the corner of the house. The one room was pictured on his +mind almost as clearly as he trudged toward its door-step as it could be +when he entered it. Through the slabs of the puncheon floor the wind +came in gusty weather. In each of the four corners was a large double +bed with feather mattresses, for the family, when he had left home, had +numbered six. About the log walls on pegs driven into the chinking would +be hanging such articles of clothing as were not in use, except such +other articles as were thrust in disorder under the beds. Unless the +family had "lain down" they would be huddling about the hearth with +their shoes off, for even in June when the night chill came it was +customary to kindle an evening fire. Always in the past, his great +grandfather, old Luke Spooner, had sat at the right-hand corner of that +hearth, mumbling into his long white beard. Newt wondered if he would +still be there. He had been almost a centenarian when they took the +grandson away to the penitentiary; his sight almost gone, his hearing +almost gone, his brain wasted to a remnant of nightmare brooding, but +his physical vitality holding out like a spent and stubborn fortress. +Once he had been among the most feared of feudists, tireless, unafraid, +vindictive and honest. He would hardly be there now, reflected Newt. He +must have died by this time. One member of his family only would he +greet with any feeling akin to welcome. His father had in his rough way +been fond of him, and Newt in an equally wolfish fashion had +reciprocated the feeling. It had never been expressed in words or +demonstration, for of these things the mountaineer is as chary as a +grizzly. Often in the long warfare of quarreling and bickering between +his father and mother, which Newt regarded as a natural and universal +incident of family life, his "pappy" had taken his side and rescued him +from a "whopping."</p> + +<p>Newt thought he would be glad to see his father.</p> + +<p>He crossed the stile, hewn in rough steps from a poplar stump, and +strode over to the broken mill-stone that served as a door-step. He +shouted, "I'm a-comin' in," and pushed at the door. It was barred. That +was a sign of the troublesome condition of the times. The mountaineer +shouts an announcement of his coming from a distance to avoid the +seeming of surreptitiousness, but, having reached the threshold, does +not knock.</p> + +<p>"Who's thet?" called a high-pitched, irritable voice from the interior. +It was his mother's voice, and Newt replied:</p> + +<p>"Hit's me, Mammy. Let me in."</p> + +<p>No outburst or murmur of surprise broke from the cabin at the +announcement of the prodigal's return. He heard only the rasping of a +bar being drawn from its sockets, and then the door swung in. Newt +entered, and with no offer to embrace his mother cast an appraising +glance about the place, which the logs on the hearth revealed in a +wavering light. The corners of the room were darkly shadowed, but the +semicircle about the fireplace was red and yellow from the flames. The +rafters were smoke-blackened, and an odor hung between the walls like +that in a house used for curing hams.</p> + +<p>About the fire sat the family group, but none of them rose to welcome +him. At the right hand corner sat old Luke. He was not dead then, after +all, though just now he was sleeping with his bearded, mummy-like face +fallen forward and his long hickory staff resting between his knees. +Newt's younger brother, "Little Luke," grown since he had left home from +a boy of thirteen to a gawky and angular young cub of sixteen, and his +sister, who had been twelve and was now fifteen, stared at him in shy +silence. His mother who was only a little more than forty had all the +seeming of sixty. She was bent and slovenly. But of his father he saw +nothing, though a man sat in the remaining chair, and when this +interloper leaned forward, holding down his beard with his forefinger as +he spat at the ashes, Newt recognized Clem Rawlins, a distant kinsman. +Clem's presence surprised him little, for it would have been quite +natural for Clem or any other man who found himself benighted to stop +and "stay all night."</p> + +<p>His mother came forward, and invited:</p> + +<p>"Take my cheer, Newt. I'll set on the bed."</p> + +<p>Newt dropped into the seat, and inquired:</p> + +<p>"Where's pappy?"</p> + +<p>"Daid," was his mother's laconic reply.</p> + +<p>"When did he die?"</p> + +<p>Clem Rawlins answered in a deep, drawling voice:</p> + +<p>"He failed tol'able fast-like after ye left, Newt. He had the weak +treemers, an' died erbout cawn-plantin' time a-follerin' of yore goin' +down below."</p> + +<p>The boy said nothing. He sat mutely scowling into the fire.</p> + +<p>A constrained silence fell on the gathering, which was at last broken by +the boy's mother in a tone of dubious embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"With yore old gran-pap on my hands, Newt, an' yore pap daid an' Little +Luk kind of puny-like, I couldn't hardly git along withouten some man on +the place an' so—" She paused again, then added with a note +half-apology, half-defiance: "An' so I married Clem. I was plumb driv +ter hit."</p> + +<p>She knew that the boy had never liked his kinsman, Clem Rawlins, but now +Newt sat with his brow drawn and his gaze fixed on the embers, making no +response. Clem waited stolidly, puffing at his pipe, though he, too, +would be glad when the moment of explanation was ended. At last, the boy +dismissed the topic with the curt comment:</p> + +<p>"I reckon thet's yore business."</p> + +<p>After a while, he rose and went to the corner of the room where once his +few belongings had been kept. He evidently failed to find that for which +he sought, for he came back to the fire and demanded:</p> + +<p>"Whar's my rifle-gun?"</p> + +<p>His mother was still sitting on the edge of the bed. She had filled her +clay pipe and lighted it with a coal from the fire. Once more her voice +carried the note of anxious embarrassment, and she tried to give it also +an ingratiating quality, as she replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, ye see, Newty, atter yore pappy died we had a heap of trouble. +'Peared like the good Lord hed done plumb forgot us in his +provi-<i>dence</i>. The hail kilt all the cawn, an' the hawgs died off like +es ef they was blighted, an' so—" She paused, and the boy finished for +her in a voice very metallic, though not reproachful.</p> + +<p>"So ye went an' sold my rifle-gun. Is thet what ye war a-tryin' ter +say?"</p> + +<p>"Thet's hit," she acknowledged. Then in exculpation she went on: "Ye +see, Newt, I wouldn't 'a' done hit, only I didn't reckon ye'd want hit +no more. We didn't hardly 'low ye'd ever come back hyar noways."</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner rose from his chair and stood facing them. His fists were +tight-clenched at his sides. The spurting blaze of the slowly dying fire +sent his shadow wavering out across the semicircle of light.</p> + +<p>"You-all didn't 'low I'd need my rifle-gun no more," he repeated slowly, +with forced restraint. "Ye didn't hardly reckon I'd ever come back +hyar-abouts. Ye 'lowed I wuz buried alive in thet damned penitentiary +whar ye let me go without a-holpin' me none. Ye 'lowed I'd jest stay +thar an' rot." He paused and his breath came heavily. Then his utterance +quickened. "Well, ye 'lowed plumb wrong. I'm hyar an' thar's a thing I'm +hyar ter do, an' hit's a thing thet calls fer a gun. Ye done married +this-hyar man. Thet's yore business an' his'n. 'Pears like ter me ye +mout 'a' done a sight better, but I hain't got no call ter say nothin' +erbout thet."</p> + +<p>With a vague idea of placating both sides of what might become a family +rupture, the woman suggested in a milder tone than usual:</p> + +<p>"I mout 'a' done a sight wusser, too, Newt."</p> + +<p>The boy sniffed.</p> + +<p>"I don't hardly see how," he retorted. "Now I've done been robbed of my +gun. What's become of my pappy's gun?"</p> + +<p>His mother hesitated, then confessed:</p> + +<p>"I done give it ter Clem."</p> + +<p>The son nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"Thet's what I 'lowed. Now thet gun b'longs ter me. I've done lawfully +heired hit from my pap." He turned suddenly to Clem Rawlins, and his +voice rang out in sharp and peremptory outburst.</p> + +<p>"Go git hit!"</p> + +<p>Rawlins rose in quick obedience, and went to his own corner whence he +fetched the repeating rifle that had been the elder Spooner's.</p> + +<p>Newt stood before the fireplace, testing and loading the magazine, while +his mother looked on in anxious scrutiny.</p> + +<p>Then the centenarian across the hearth roused up, lifting his ancient +and withered face, in which the jaw muscles worked loosely and flabbily.</p> + +<p>"Who air thet feller?" he demanded in a quavering, accusing voice, +gazing up without recognition at the tall, spare figure which towered +over him.</p> + +<p>"Thet's little Newt," shouted the mother, bending her lips close to his +ear. The old man sat foolishly blinking for a time as his wandering +thoughts came back to a focus.</p> + +<p>Finally, he brandished his long staff and stormed weakly.</p> + +<p>"Ye hadn't oughter suffered yeself ter be penitentiaried. In my day no +Spooner wouldn't 'a' done hit. Ye air the fust one thet's ever wore +stripes...."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't of gone thar nuther, ef my own kin hed a-stood by me," +blazed the boy with an evil glitter in his eye.</p> + +<p>"Don't pay him no mind, Newt," hastily admonished his mother; "he hain't +noways responsible. He's plumb fitty."</p> + +<p>"Why the hell don't he die?" demanded the youth, gazing down +contemptuously on the withered and decaying figure.</p> + +<p>"I'm kinder tuckered out," he added a moment later. "I reckon I'll lay +down."</p> + +<p>Such was Newt Spooner's home-coming.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + + +<p>On the morning after the convict's return, in the hour when the mists +still hung in wraith-like fogs over the slopes, Newt and the other men +of the household gathered around the kitchen table while his mother and +sister, maintaining their position of mere women, served them standing. +They ate in sordid silence, stooping low over their plates and +neglecting their forks.</p> + +<p>The food was perhaps less good than that which the penitentiary +furnished its inmates. The bodies of dead bees floated in the wild honey +and to a palate accustomed to more delicate provender the reeking grease +in which everything floated would have induced nausea, but it was the +food upon which the former convict had been reared, and he greedily +bolted it. As soon as he had finished his breakfast he rose, and, +picking up his rifle, sauntered toward the door. This he did with a +belligerent air, for he knew the simple laws of native life. The land +and cabin had belonged to his father, and the boy felt that he needed no +invitation to return and take up his residence there. None the less, if +he was to stay, he would be expected to assume his just share in the +burdens of daily work. For the present, however, he meant to take a +vacation; to tramp the hillsides and see how far he had lost his knack +with the rifle. So, he filled his pocket with cartridges, and strolled +out of the door, kicking from his way several trespassing chickens that +were exploring the interior of the room. As he passed the barn, Clem and +"Little Luke" were feeding the mule and the hogs. Newt paused for a +moment and watched them, making no offer to assist, and they for their +part made no request that he lend a hand.</p> + +<p>"Goin' huntin', Newt?" queried the step-father, pausing with a +shuck-basket of feed in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Mebby so," growled the home-comer.</p> + +<p>Clem regarded his uncommunicative law-kin with an expressionless stare +for a while, and then said slowly:</p> + +<p>"Hit hain't none of my concern, I reckon, but I seen yore pockets was +strutty, an' I 'lowed ye mout be goin' tol'able fur."</p> + +<p>"Mebby so," repeated Newt.</p> + +<p>The pockets to which Clem alluded bulged with ammunition and a flask. +The phrase he used was slang in Scotland in the days when Queen Mary +reigned. It is common parlance to-day where these beleaguered +Anglo-Saxons retain the idioms of their ancestors, and live the life of +another century in mountains which were old before the Andes, the Alps, +the Rockies or the Himalayas were thrown above the level of the sea. The +Elizabethan gallant who was "strutty" threw out a swelling chest, hence, +that which bulges is strutty.</p> + +<p>The household did not see Newt again until the sun was well into the +west, but at intervals they heard the sharp bark of his rifle growing +fainter as he penetrated farther into the hills.</p> + +<p>For Newt had taken himself away into the thickness of the timber and +laurel for target practice. He went about it as systematically as though +he were a battleship at maneuvers. As he swung his way noiselessly along +forest paths, he would stop suddenly and throw the piece to his +shoulder, sighting on some knot or leaf picked out at random. On these +occasions he wasted no powder and lead. He was simply testing his +quickness of eye and steadiness of hand, and he smiled with grim +pleasure at the result. But at last a target showed high up on a walnut +trunk. There the figure of a giant woodpecker hung, drumming loudly, and +inviting a trial shot, by the very conspicuousness of its red, black and +white plumage. Newt leveled the rifle and fired, and the big bird came +tumultuously floundering to the ground.</p> + +<p>The boy smiled unpleasantly:</p> + +<p>"I reckon," he mused, "hit hain't only woodpeckers I kin hit."</p> + +<p>As the day wore on, he practised more intricate feats. Gathering a +handful of hickory leaves, he fastened them about the gigantic girth of +a tulip poplar which towered nobly in a level place. Then, going back a +distance of fifty yards, he began running rapidly around the tree. At +every few yards of his course he would halt abruptly, wheel and fire at +one of the leaves. As he went up, panting, to inspect results, he smiled +again in grim satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Along the creek-bed roads and over the mountain-scaling trails that day, +a girl was taking a twenty mile walk from the clean dormitory of the +college to the vermin-infested murk of a cabin on Troublesome. She +carried a small bundle, but the long march was a thing that did not seem +to trouble her.</p> + +<p>Sometimes she came to places where the road ran down into the waters of +shallow fords, and then she stopped and took off her shoes and stockings +and waded to the other bank.</p> + +<p>On either side of her rose the rustling forests, tuneful with the song +of birds. The laurel blossoms waved pink centers and the rhododendron +nodded at her.</p> + +<p>Here and there a squirrel barked or a cock-quail sounded his "bob-white" +to his nesting mate. And as Minerva tramped on with that resilient, +tireless stride which was one of the few blessings of her hard heritage, +the cloud on her brow was dispelled and after a while her voice rose to +the crooning of an ancient "ballet," and she remembered only that she +was young and strong and that it was June. Perhaps she dreamed a little +of a make-believe world in which the men were not brutal and bestial, +but, like the Henry Falkins of her imagination, individuals who had +heard of chivalry and who even in this age preserved something of its +spirit and its spark.</p> + +<p>Yet every now and then the picture of the cabin rose before her +imagination, and the smile died from her eyes, and her lips became +straight-set and taut. She saw the old imbecile in the chimney corner +and the shrewish step-mother, and the badgering step-sister, and even +in the father who had brought her here, she knew that she had no +effective ally. Clem Rawlins had his work cut out for him in protecting +himself in these matters, and he sought the path of least resistance by +taking refuge in surly silence until he was goaded to the point where +his temper broke into violent outburst.</p> + +<p>At last, the walk ended, ended at the door-step of the cheerless cabin, +and there as Minerva crossed the stile stood her step-mother, on the +threshold with her arms akimbo and a clay pipe clamped between her +teeth.</p> + +<p>"M'nervy," she said in a rasping tone, in which dwelt no note of +welcome, "I've done put yore b'longin's under Sis's bed. Thar hain't no +more pegs ter hang things on an' Newty's done fared back from down +b'low. He's a-goin' ter lay down on ther bed you've been usin'."</p> + +<p>The girl halted before the door.</p> + +<p>"Who's Newty?" she asked. The boy's name had not been often mentioned +since she had come over here, and she had forgotten the ragged lad she +had known years before, when instead of being a murderer he was only a +small shaver with sullen eyes and a tongue which he did not often use.</p> + +<p>"Newty's my oldest boy," enlightened the elder woman briefly. "He's been +a sojournin' in Frankfort." Then in a tone of absolute commonplace she +added: "He's been in ther penitenshery."</p> + +<p>Minerva Rawlins stood silent, but her cheeks blazed wrathfully. So, +beside the horrors of uncongeniality under this roof, she was now to be +turned out of her own bed to make way for an arrival from the state +prison.</p> + +<p>Long ago she had learned to set a seal upon her lips and to endure in +silence what things must be borne, but into her eyes flashed an +insurgent gleam, and the hag-like woman in the doorway caught it and +scowled.</p> + +<p>"I reckon Newty's got a license ter dwell in this-hyar house," she +belligerently asserted. "He was born hyar, an' he didn't come in hyar +taggin' along with no widderer. Newty hain't no step-child."</p> + +<p>The speaker turned and disappeared into the general murk of the +interior, and the girl followed her without comment, but with a suddenly +born hatred for the man who had come from a cell back to the family +which she must call her own.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When Newt Spooner crossed the stile that afternoon, breathing deeply the +healing of the mountain air, he paused and scowled. Coming across the +yard from the "Spring-branch" with a bucket of water was the slender +figure of a girl. She was not his sister, but another girl whom he did +not recognize. She seemed to be about eighteen, and she was pretty, with +the transient bloom of mountain young womanhood, often as vivid and as +short-lived as that of the morning glory. But the thing which most +perplexed Newt, as he stood resentfully wondering how many other +invaders he was to encounter at the cabin, was the fact that her calico +dress was neater and her whole appearance more suggestive of civilized +self-respect than that of the other women of the household.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>Coming across the yard from the "Spring-branch" was the +slender figure of a girl.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>She was not barefooted, but wore shoes and stockings, and instead of +being lost in loose sack or slip-shod mother-hubbard, her slight waist +was trimly belted.</p> + +<p>While Newt stared at her, she, too, looked up and saw him. For a moment +she seemed startled at the black-visaged apparition, but after a moment +she coolly returned his glance, and disappeared into the house.</p> + +<p>When the boy later on went to the door, the westering sun sent a long +golden shaft into the primitive interior, down which the dust motes +danced, although the corners remained somberly obscure. In the room were +only the "women-folks"; his mother sitting huddled over her pipe; his +sister lying idly stretched on one of the beds with an ill-natured frown +in her eyes, and the strange girl. The strange girl sat, not near the +cold hearth, where now there was no fire, but in the sun, and the sun +fell upon and sparkled in her brown hair and awakened dull glints like +the luster of polished mahogany. She was holding her lips rather tightly +drawn, as in self-repression, and there was a mistiness about her eyes +that hinted at unshed tears.</p> + +<p>"I reckon," Newt's mother was saying in a spitefully hard voice, as the +boy's figure darkened the door, "ye thinks sence ye went off ter school +and got ter consartin' with them fotched-on teachers, thet ye're +better'n what we be."</p> + +<p>The girl made no reply, but she bent over the sewing in her lap, and her +fingers trembled. Mrs. Rawlins looked up and, with a jerk of her head, +announced for the benefit of her son:</p> + +<p>"This here air Clem's gal, Minervy. I married a widderer." The last +sentence was snapped out in a tone of deep complaining, from which one +might infer that in the train of marrying a widower followed many +melancholy consequences.</p> + +<p>At that the girl raised her face and into it swept a sudden flush of +anger. She looked challengingly at Newt and her eyes told him that, if +she was silent under the shrewish heckling of the woman, she was quite +ready to give him battle. But the boy had no intention of insulting her. +He did not know that already she was finding herself in that most +pathetic of all positions, the status of being just enough educated to +be unplaced at home, and too little educated to be placed elsewhere. She +had been thrown, by her father's second marriage, under the persecutions +of a shrew, a jealous step-sister, and a century-old imbecile. She +looked at Newt and reflected that his arrival added a murderer to the +group. "Clem's gal" was longing for that different and more wholesome +life over there at the college. But Newt had seen the look in her eyes +and recognized that she like himself was here among people who offered +no friendship. It was a rude bond of sympathy, and though she was +"Clem's gal," and, in consequence, of the enemy, he rose to her defense.</p> + +<p>"I reckon," he remarked sullenly, "she hain't no more tee-totally +tickled about yore a-marryin' of a widderer then what you be."</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes were lifted with an amazed expression from the calico +dress upon which she was working, and her face swiftly softened. But +Newt, a stranger to tender emotions, and bent on presenting to every man +and woman a face of defiance, gave no further sign of sympathy.</p> + +<p>He went to the bed which had been assigned to him, and threw himself on +his back, from which position he lay scowling up at the smoked rafters +and resting.</p> + +<p>Presently, his mother began again her querulous bickering. The +conversation was one-sided, and the boy, lying silent in his dark +corner, noted that Minerva merely bent her head as one may bend it +against the buffeting of gusty wind or rain. But he was himself less +long suffering, and so he raised his voice with the dictatorial +authority of a man rebuking a quarreling harem.</p> + +<p>"Mammy," he ordered curtly, "I'm plumb sick an' tired o' heerin' all +this-hyar blamed fursin', an' I wants ye ter shet up. If Clem's gal is a +willin' ter endure all thet jawin', I hain't."</p> + +<p>For an hour there was no sound in the cabin except the low, monotonous +voice of Newt's sister, crooning an ancient "ballet" that once was sung +in Scotland before the Pilgrims landed in the western world.</p> + +<p>About sunset that afternoon, Newt came upon the Rawlins girl milking +near the barn. When she raised her head from the flank of the cow and +saw him standing a short distance away, a sudden stream of color came +flooding to her cheeks and temples. He had not yet heard her speak a +word, but now after stammering a moment she said:</p> + +<p>"Hit was mighty good of ye, Newt, ter take up fer me. I'm much obliged."</p> + +<p>The acknowledgment was somewhat difficult to make. This black sheep of +her acquired family stood for all the things that the knightly Henry +Falkins had deplored in speaking of the lawless spirit of the mountains. +He was the sullen impersonation of the murder-spirit which shoots from +ambush. He had come from prison and it was Mercy, not Justice, that had +opened the iron gates to set him free. She did not know that the +testimony of Falkins had put him there, or that Newt's set purpose was +revenge, but she had shaped her heart to despise him, and he had in a +rough way stood forth her champion. Perhaps, after all, he too had been +a victim of conditions bigger and blacker than his own nature.</p> + +<p>Newt's scowl darkened. He was not accustomed to gratitude and in it +found embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" he growled. "Hit warn't nothin'. I jest natcherly hates ter heer +so much damn' naggin'. Why don't ye jaw back at 'em? Air ye sceered?"</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head. "I ain't here much," she said, "an' I reckon +thar's enough squabblin' in this house without me joinin' in."</p> + +<p>"Well, thet's yore business," commented the ex-convict, "but if I was +you I'd stand up to 'em." He turned on his heel and left her.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>To the house of McAllister Falkins "furriners" from the outside world +came as to an oasis in a desert, or perhaps, more properly speaking, as +to the tent of a great sheik set in the oasis, for the father of young +Henry Falkins was "the grand old man of the mountains."</p> + +<p>His forefathers had come from Virginia with the ideas of the old +chivalric régime. It was the tradition that when the first Falkins set +his face to the unbroken west, he had brought with his pioneer outfit a +retinue of negroes, a string of race-horses and a coop of fighting +cocks. The game birds and the gamer horses had not been game enough to +survive the hardships of the wilderness road, but the main stem of the +Falkins stock had retained its stamina and refused through a century to +degenerate. Collateral branches had one by one lapsed into the +semi-barbarism of a cruelly isolated life. Nephews and cousins bearing +the same name had succumbed to intermarriage and degeneracy, yet the +main stem had grown straight. Old McAllister Falkins was a college man +and a lawyer who did not practise. Though he was the foremost bearer of +the name which stood linked with that of Spooner as giving title to a +feud that had bathed the country in bloodshed for generations, neither +he nor his direct ancestors nor his direct descendant had ever been +drawn into its vortex. In some miraculous fashion he had been able to +stand aside, admired by his tempestuous kinsmen; respected even by the +equally vindictive Spooners. To have raised a hand against "Old Mack" +Falkins would have been to defy both clans. To have raised a hand +against his son would not have occurred to any Spooner other than young +Newt, mad with rage and private hatred. Old McAllister Falkins had +represented his district in Congress, by a vote of both factions, and +his retirement had been voluntary. It was his hope that his son, too, +might become the shepherd of these wild, goat-like sheep, and wield an +influence for peace. Now, both father and son were deeply disquieted at +the menace of a fresh up-flaring. The death of Falerin would fire the +Falkins clansmen, and if that dreaded intriguer, Black Pete, showed his +face in the hills it was difficult to see how calamitous days could be +averted. As yet the Deacon had not appeared save in Winchester, but on +Friday the Clark County court was to hear a motion for bail, made by the +two defendants, and, if it were granted, Saturday would see them back in +Jackson—and then the deluge! Saturday is a day for gathering at the +county seat and for drinking white liquor. The Falkinses would without +doubt be there, too, in force, ready to recognize and resent insult, and +the town would be much like a powder-magazine used as a smoking-room. +McAllister Falkins had advised such of the Falkins leaders as he could +reach to keep the clan out of Jackson, or, if that were impossible, to +hold the dogs of passion and carousal in leash. He meant to be there in +person to aid in the work of pacification. If only Red Newton and the +Deacon did not reappear, like Mohammedan prophets among wild tribesmen, +the dangerous day might yet dawn and spend itself without bloodshed.</p> + +<p>While the two enlightened men of the name were sitting one afternoon on +the porch of their house, discussing these matters, they saw a horseman +riding down the road which looped over the mountain. The traveler sat +his saddle with straight shoulders and his height approached the +gigantic. Before he had reached the palings of the yard fence, the angle +of his black hat and the tilt of his chin proclaimed him the Deacon.</p> + +<p>Old McAllister Falkins rose with a suppressed exclamation of dismay, and +Henry bit off an oath.</p> + +<p>Black Pete Spooner rode along at an easy amble, and outside the fence he +drew rein and sang out in a grave and utterly unembarrassed voice:</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, may I alight and have speech with you?"</p> + +<p>The two Falkinses rose and walked down to meet the unexpected visitor, +uncertain what attitude to take in the face of such stupendous +effrontery. The dark giant offered his hand, and said:</p> + +<p>"I reckon you gentlemen are a little surprised to see me, and I guess +when you know why I came you'll be still more surprised."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + + +<p>Gravely restraining their protests until the visitor should have spoken, +yet heavy-hearted with premonition, the elder and younger Falkins led +the way up the flagstone path to the porch. Had the head of the house of +Montagu strolled casually in, his hands still red with murder, for an +afternoon call at the strong-hold of the Capulets, his advent could +hardly have been more unexpected or unwelcome. The Honorable McAllister +Falkins and his son were mountaineers, and to the mountaineer the +voluntary arrival of a guest under the roof-tree is a mandate to +consideration so long as he remains there.</p> + +<p>The Deacon disposed himself in a heavy split-bottomed rocker, and for a +time a survey of the landscape seemed to absorb him.</p> + +<p>The house sat in its yard overlooking the twisting road and the steep +banks of the middle fork of Kentucky River. For that unlettered land it +was a mansion, with its two-story height and painted weather-boarding. +Its glazed, green-shuttered windows gave it a certain dignity. Instead +of puncheon floors, there were carpets and such furniture as one might +have seen in the outer world, mingled strangely with old-fashioned +reminders of pioneer life. At one end of the porch leaned a discarded +spinning wheel, and an arm's length away stood the phonograph with +which the two Falkins men had been soothing their anxieties with the +strains of "Il Trovatore."</p> + +<p>Off to the side of the house stretched an orchard in whose shadowed rim +of lingering locust bloom ranged a trim line of ancient "bee gums." It +was a simple and rambling farmhouse, but in a country of squalid +habitations it partook of a certain grandeur, and one must needs go far +to find a more ruggedly magnificent outlook, over park-like stretches of +patriarchal timber, palisading river-banks and towering mountains, than +that commanded from its verandah.</p> + +<p>For a few moments the Deacon sat in his rocker with as little seeming +realization of his unwelcomeness as though he were an old friend and +constant visitor. He sat upright, his hat lying on the floor at his side +and his hands resting on his large-boned knees. Both the men of the +Falkins house acknowledged anew how unusual and commanding was that +face, and how difficult it was to recognize upon it any hall-mark of +crime or villainy. The dark eyes were steadfastly gentle, and even under +the long drooping mustache the lips held a sort of dreamer's curve. +Finally, the visitor spoke.</p> + +<p>"The more I study about it, the more I'm afraid that Saturday can't +hardly pass by without trouble."</p> + +<p>McAllister Falkins rose from his chair and paced the porch. At last, he +paused before Black Pete Spooner, and began steadily:</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you have come to me." The old gentleman's voice was +self-contained, though his eyes bored accusingly into those of his +visitor. "I certainly shall express no criticism until you have said in +full whatever you came here to say. You must know that I have always +held aloof from feud-bickerings. You must know that I have always +counseled impartially and truly such men as have come to me from both +factions. But above all you must know that, if there is bloodshed in +Jackson on Saturday, no other thing will be so directly responsible for +it as your reappearance in the county. Your presence and Falerin's death +will be the twin causes. If you seek to avoid a holocaust, you are +pursuing a strange course."</p> + +<p>While Falkins talked, the Deacon listened attentively, acknowledging the +force of each remark with a grave nod of his head. At the end of the +speech he sat awhile with his brows judicially drawn, then answered:</p> + +<p>"There's a heap of truth and good sense in all that. I don't expect you +to take my word on any matter, but I'm here to propose doin' things, not +just sayin' things. I think there is one way to keep these boys from +mischief, if you two men and me can act together." He paused after that +a moment, then his voice came deeply resonant and full of warning. "And +I tell you that whether I'm at the North Pole or right here, unless we +three do get together, there's goin' to be hell in Jackson next +Saturday."</p> + +<p>He held them both with so steady and guileless a gaze that for a moment +both of the advocates of peace and law wondered if they were not +actually talking with a convert; wondered half-convinced, despite all +they knew of his history. Henry Falkins filled his pipe in silence, and +then, as the three settled themselves in their chairs, Black Pete began +again:</p> + +<p>"You men both know what a bad name I had when I left these mountains. I +was guilty of several crimes to start with, and my reputation did the +rest. Whatever meanness broke loose got laid to my door. I'm not +complainin'. Enough of them accusations were true to give fellers +license to suspect me in the balance. Then I went away."</p> + +<p>"With the understanding that you were to stay away," interrupted +McAllister Falkins.</p> + +<p>The Deacon nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm comin' to that," he answered with tranquillity. "Anyhow, I went +away, and I've come back with just one hatred left."</p> + +<p>"What is that?" demanded Henry Falkins. This man with one hatred was +more to be feared than another with many.</p> + +<p>"Hatred of lawlessness and the sort of meanness that assassinates and +quarrels," was the quiet and surprising response.</p> + +<p>There was no offer to argue or deny, and after a moment he went on.</p> + +<p>"That sounds a little funny from my lips, I reckon, but all I ask is a +chance to prove it."</p> + +<p>"And simply going away wrought this conversion?" It was the elder man +who put the question, and his voice was frank in its scepticism.</p> + +<p>The Deacon shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No, not only that. It's a long story, and there's no need for tellin' +it all. But some of my time out West I was prospectin' in Old Mexico. I +was took down with fever, and they nursed me at a monastery. I caught on +to considerable Spanish, and—well, to cut it short—I got religion. But +as far as my past record goes, maybe just because I've got the name of +being so mean and troublesome, there are some men here-abouts that would +hearken to my counsel when they wouldn't listen to a better man."</p> + +<p>He paused and sat staring absently across the river, but his eyes were +taking in everything, and, as he turned his grave glance on his +auditors, he was keenly studying their faces.</p> + +<p>"What plan did you have to propose?" inquired Henry Falkins.</p> + +<p>"It's this way," came the prompt reply. "There are just two men in this +country that can talk to a Spooner an' a Falkins alike an' be hearkened +to by both. You are the two men. But there are a few Spooners that won't +even listen to you—and they are the meanest of the lot. It's the +meanest men that make the most trouble—and these are the men that will +listen to me. If we three are in town Saturday—"</p> + +<p>"If you are in town Saturday, mingling with the Spooners and inflaming +the Falkinses, the entire state militia couldn't maintain order," broke +out old McAllister with vehement heat.</p> + +<p>"Now, wait a minute!" And not for one minute, but ten, the returned +exile talked. As they listened, the father and son saw unfold a plan of +unexampled boldness and danger, particularly of danger to its proposer, +but as it outlined and developed itself they began to see also a dawn of +hope. The very effrontery of the thing might carry it through peril to +success.</p> + +<p>"I won't equivocate," responded the head of the Falkins family with +blunt directness. "If you are honest, you deserve to be treated frankly, +and, if you are not honest, there is no use in flattering you. It's not +my way to flatter men. You have always been a plausible talker, and you +have cloaked many criminal acts under that plausibility. On the other +hand, I can't see anything which you could gain in this matter by +deceit. On its face it looks fair enough—and if you come through alive, +it may bring peace to the county."</p> + +<p>Again the Spooner leader nodded gravely.</p> + +<p>"That's worth taking a chance for, ain't it?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Have you talked to any of your people?" demanded the old man as he +agitatedly paced his verandah.</p> + +<p>"No—I haven't seen a soul except those in my own house—and you. I +didn't want it known yet that I was in the county. But in the next two +nights I'm goin' to have speech with a half-dozen Spooners, an' they'll +be a half-dozen of the strongest men."</p> + +<p>McAllister Falkins considered for a time, and put a pertinent question.</p> + +<p>"Can you and your half-dozen hold the Spooner crowd in check? Saturday +will be the fourth of July. There will be heavy drinking in Jackson. Can +you answer for your rank and file?"</p> + +<p>For just an instant, the grave face of the dark-haired giant lost its +impassivity and something like a snort of contempt escaped his lips.</p> + +<p>"When you drive sheep," he demanded curtly, "do you consult the fool +beasts? Give me the sheep-men an' the sheep-dogs, an' I'll pretty nigh +tell you where the sheep are going to."</p> + +<p>The visitor rose and stood looking from the eyes of one to those of the +other.</p> + +<p>"We will both be in Jackson on Saturday," said McAllister Falkins.</p> + +<p>"Me, too," said the giant. "But I'll be there unbeknownst until the +minute comes for me to show myself."</p> + +<p>The Deacon had taken up his hat and reached the top step of the porch. +There he turned and, looking at the younger man, suggested:</p> + +<p>"I was goin' to advise that you didn't go, Henry. Your father can do +what's got to be done."</p> + +<p>"Why?" demanded the son sharply. "You arrange that my father shall take +his life into his hands in an effort to quiet a frenzied mob, and then +suggest that I let him go alone? Why?"</p> + +<p>The visitor seemed to sympathize with the sentiment.</p> + +<p>"That's right," he conceded. "After all, you've got to go. I don't think +Mr. Falkins is runnin' much risk. I don't think there's a man in these +parts that would harm him or let him be harmed. But it's a little +different with you. Little Newt Spooner has been pardoned out of the +penitentiary. I guess you knew that?"</p> + +<p>"So I heard. What has that to do with me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he's a mean little devil, that boy is, an' he's holdin' it up +against you that your testimony busted his alibi."</p> + +<p>"Now, Spooner," Old Mack spoke quietly but with an ominous force, "you +have just said you could herd your sheep. If you can't handle the +youngest and blackest of them, we might as well abandon the bigger +experiment. If through this boy any harm comes to my son, I give you the +fairest warning that for once I shall take the law in my own hands—and +kill you."</p> + +<p>Henry Falkins laughed.</p> + +<p>"Father," he said, "there's no occasion to excite yourself. I'm not +troubled about Newt."</p> + +<p>But there was no spark of resentment in the Deacon's face. His eyes lost +none of their thoughtful gentleness. He held out his hand and spoke +deliberately:</p> + +<p>"If Newt hurts Henry, Mr. Falkins, you can hold me accountable. If +either of you men were hurt by one of my family, my life wouldn't be +worth two bits. I reckon you know that, and you know that I know it. +I'll see to little Newt, but it wouldn't hardly have been honest not to +tell Henry that the boy is nursin' a grudge." He turned and went down to +the stile and turned his mule back for the twenty miles that lay between +the house of McAllister Falkins and the section of Troublesome where the +Spooners held dominion.</p> + +<p>The Deacon had much to think of. He had come back from the West because +he was homesick; because as the warden had told Newt: "Every mountain +man that goes away drifts back to the mountains. God knows why they do +it, but they do." As long as Jake Falerin influenced his tribe from +Winchester Black Pete's return would be impossible. As long as the +Honorable Cale Floyd lived, his influence would reach back and bear +fruit in the mountains. For those reasons the Deacon had staged the +shooting in Winchester. Now, with the brain and counsel of Jake Falerin +stilled, he saw, in a great peace movement, a chance to beguile the +lesser leaders of his foes. Having satisfied his private designs, it was +nothing to him that others with equally strong grievances must pocket +them and sit silent under the truce he meant to make. For a time he +intended that this truce should be honestly kept, but later—</p> + +<p>The Deacon was thinking several moves ahead. Yet he, who could dictate +to a fierce faction, stood in fear of little Newt. He had stopped him +once, and had promised the boy his future assistance. Newt wanted one of +the only two men in the country who must not be killed; whose +assassination would bring down the wrath of the state and flood the +county with soldiers, and make even a timid judiciary more afraid to +shield than to punish. Yet, how to stop this boy puzzled Black Pete to +such an extent that, as he rode, his brow was deeply corrugated. +Inwardly he cursed bitterly the ladies who had sympathized and the +Governor who had pardoned. It would have been much better to let the +troublesome prisoner rot in the penitentiary.</p> + +<p>The Deacon was not riding the county roads back to Troublesome. He was +taking a shorter and steeper trail, which led over the mountains. Travel +by this way was slow and arduous, but it was an isolated way and offered +a better route for a man who wished to ride unseen.</p> + +<p>At a point where the narrow trail doubled sharply around the shoulder of +a hill-top and where the soft earth deadened the hoofbeats of his horse, +he came unexpectedly on a walking figure. The mounted man had come +around the angle so unwarnedly that he seemed to rise from nowhere. The +walking figure had made an instinctive dive for the cover of the +roadside brush and tangle, and then, with a realization that it was too +late to escape detection, had halted and stood with his bare feet +planted in the soft mud of the road and his face slowly blackening. The +man on foot was Newt Spooner. He was once more dressed in mountain jeans +and butternut, and at his side his swinging right hand clutched a +repeating rifle.</p> + +<p>The Deacon drew his horse to a standstill with an amicable nod.</p> + +<p>"Howdy, Newt?" he greeted. The boy made no response, and shifted his +weight from foot to foot, while his eyes kindled with growing fury. +About a little roadside puddle fluttered a small flock of white and +lemon butterflies, disturbed by human invasion, and on a branch overhead +a squirrel ran out and stopped cautiously.</p> + +<p>"There's a squirrel, Newt," suggested the Deacon casually. "I reckon +you're squirrel-huntin', ain't you?"</p> + +<p>But the boy did not answer, and the Deacon knew why. He was thirteen +miles from home, and was stalking bigger game than squirrels.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + + +<p>For a little space the two men looked at each other, the Deacon to +outward seeming with the casual interest of a chance meeting, and the +boy with a lowering truculence which augured trouble.</p> + +<p>The little mud-butterflies alighted again at the edge of the puddle, and +the squirrel whisked himself away.</p> + +<p>Back on the hillsides the white elder blossoms and pink-hearted laurel +cups nodded in the sleepy languor of a summer afternoon. In the overhead +blue a buzzard drifted on tilting wings.</p> + +<p>"You're right far off your beat, ain't you, son?" suggested Black Pete +at length.</p> + +<p>The sullen visage did not alter or brighten.</p> + +<p>"I hain't none too fur off," was the surly response. "I reckon I knows +what I'm a-doin'."</p> + +<p>The Deacon nodded. He had been thankful for the momentary silence which +had afforded him an interval for fast and very necessary thinking, and +he had made use of the opportunity. Straight as a crow flies, Newt +Spooner was making his way across crest and cove and gulch to the house +of the man he had "marked down." He had been home three weeks now, and +his lungs had drunk in the splendid mountain air and the elixir had +begun to heal the soreness of his chest. The pallor had left his face +and the native brown had come again to his skin. Newt Spooner was +tough-fibered, and his recovery, as any eye could see, would now be +speedy and complete. Also, he had practised with his rifle until he no +longer doubted his ability to handle it, and he was going on this +tuneful and gracious day at the end of June to carry out his unalterable +purpose. All this the Deacon read from his eyes and from the +circumstances of the meeting. The Deacon had gone to the Falkins house +unarmed, as his pose of peace-advocate required, and the boy standing in +the road before him had shifted the rifle with a rather marked emphasis +of gesture, so that now it was cradled on his elbow, and his right hand +was almost caressingly toying with the lock. This time he could command +the situation, and his face said that he meant to do it.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I know what you are aimin' to do, son," suggested the older +man as he swung one leg over the pommel, and sat sidewise, looking down.</p> + +<p>The boy's eyes flashed.</p> + +<p>"Hit hain't whut I'm <i>aimin'</i> ter do," he declared. "Hit's whut I'm dead +shore <i>a-goin'</i> ter do."</p> + +<p>"It comes to the same thing," agreed Pete imperturbably. "When a feller +like you an' me has got his mind made up to a thing, there ain't much +difference between aimin' an' doin'."</p> + +<p>Suddenly it occurred to the boy that the presence of the Deacon over +here was in itself worthy of explanation.</p> + +<p>"Whut air ye a-doin' hyar?" he snapped out.</p> + +<p>"I've just been over to Old Mack's house," replied the other frankly, +and he saw the boy's attitude stiffen from head to foot at the name. His +shoulders grew rigid and his eyes snapped. The rifle came half-way up, +and the rifle-bearer came a step forward.</p> + +<p>"Ye didn't carry no warnin' over thar, did ye?" The question was a +snarling whisper.</p> + +<p>Black Pete laughed. It was a thing so rare for him to laugh that the boy +was surprised, but at once he grew thoughtfully, even sadly grave again.</p> + +<p>"Son," he reproached, "when we told you down in Winchester what we aimed +to do, an' you turned us down, did I act like I was afraid of your +warnin' anybody? Moreover, didn't I promise you that I'd help you in +this business?"</p> + +<p>"I don't need no holpin'," declared the boy vehemently; "all I asts is +ter be let alone."</p> + +<p>"All right." The Deacon swung his dangling foot back to the stirrup. "I +was just goin' to name it to you that Henry Falkins ain't there. If +you're set on walkin' these three miles more for nothin' and then +walkin' 'em back again, go right ahead. There'll be half-a-dozen +Falkinses to see you and spread the news that you've been skulkin' round +the place. You'll give the whole business away without findin' your man. +If that's the way you want to play your game, go ahead."</p> + +<p>The boy gazed at his informant with disappointed eyes, and the Deacon +gazed back steadily.</p> + +<p>"Air ye plumb shore thet he hain't thar? He was thar day before +yestiddy. I knows thet fer shore." The boy spoke eagerly, but the more +wily schemer shook his head with positiveness.</p> + +<p>"He left this mornin' for Winchester. Seems he's got a girl in +Winchester. Ef you're inclined, you can get up behind me, an' I'll give +you a lift as far as I go."</p> + +<p>Newt believed this story, but it only fired his wrath, and his voice was +sour, as he put his next question:</p> + +<p>"Whut in hell wus you a-doin' over thar at McAllister Falkins' house?"</p> + +<p>It was naturally no part of the Deacon's program to tell that. His mind +was even now working rapidly in the effort to devise some permanent +means of curbing Newt's sinister activities. The present device of +falsification was merely a play for time and would serve a very +transitory purpose.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he said casually, "I don't mind tellin' you, but I wouldn't like +it to get round much, son. I was pullin' the wool over their eyes, an' +tryin' to help out those boys that shot Jake Falerin."</p> + +<p>But, if Black Pete Spooner could have looked far enough into the future, +he would have allowed his lawless cousin to go his way and satisfy his +vengeance, and would have taken his own chance on escape.</p> + +<p>The two rode on together, up steep ascents and down into fragrant gorges +where the waters whispered and the dampness of fern and moss lay +between dripping bowlders. They went through densely tangled trails +where the incense of the elder and catalpa was heavy to the nostrils, +and climbed over steep and precipitous heights, and to neither came a +throb of enthusiasm for the profligate beauty of the vistas.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Clem's gal" had gone back to school some time ago, and it was only on +vacations and Saturdays that she returned to the cabin on Troublesome.</p> + +<p>But this afternoon, when Newt trudged in from his futile expedition +across the hills, he saw her crossing the yard in the gathering +twilight, and this time the boy did not growl in his throat like a +quarrelsome dog at the sight of her. He would not admit to himself that +he liked her, but he disliked her less than the others. She was too much +like a "furriner" to please him, and too quiet. There was no element in +his creed of intolerance, which could understand her gentleness. It was +sheer weakness, yet in that very weakness was an appeal to something in +himself, which he did not seek to analyze. At all events, "Clem's gal" +in a way interested him. She was young and lithe and strong; stronger +than the women whom she permitted to badger her with incessant +shrewishness. Also, she must be "smarter" than they, for she had been +away to school. This fondness for "larnin'" in itself indicated a +reprehensible spirit of acceptance for the "stuck-up" ideas of the outer +world. But for that she had some excuse. Her shiftless father, for whom +the boy entertained a deep contempt, had humored his daughter's +ambitions so that she might in the end secure her teacher's certificate +and contribute to his support. It was not an unselfish motive, but the +girl, eager for education, had not questioned motives.</p> + +<p>When Lucinda Merton had taken Newt in her buggy on the outskirts of +Winchester, a vague sense of sunshine had struck through the fog of his +friendlessness, and he had, for the first time, a conception of feminine +graciousness. In his brief talks with Minerva the same incomprehensible +thing occurred. Some unaccountable glow of sympathy awoke in him, and he +felt that he need not be on the defensive, alert for treachery and +enmity.</p> + +<p>When she went away, a sort of dull loneliness settled over him, and when +she came back, an unacknowledged pleasure stole into his heart.</p> + +<p>After the supper things were put away Newt went sulkily out of the cabin +and took himself to the quiet of the creek-bank, some distance away. +There was no moon, and in the starlight the mountains loomed very dark +and somber against the steely night sky. The trees were unstirring and +no wind moved even in their uppermost fronds. The boy sat hunched at the +top of the bank with his face in his two hands and his elbows on his +knees. At last, he reached into his pocket for his pipe and a few crumbs +of tobacco. In the spurt of the match, his features were for an instant +lighted, and Minerva, who also had slipped out of the crowded cabin for +the peace of the open air and the stars, saw in the momentary +illumination that it was a face very black and brooding and unhappy. +She, too, was unhappy. She was thinking how at this hour back there in +the school, the little family of teachers and such pupils as had not had +to come away would be sitting on the latticed porch, looking off over +the campus. Later on, in the comfortable library, the man who guided the +institution with a sure and sympathetic wisdom would be reading to them +under the shaded lamp, giving them wonderful glimpses of another world +through the windows of books. Reflecting on these things, the girl had +strayed farther away from the house than she had expected, and had come +upon Newt, brooding in solitary wretchedness over the day's failure.</p> + +<p>"Newt," she said shyly, when she came up to him, "ye looks like as ef +somethin' was a-botherin' ye. Is anything wrong?"</p> + +<p>The boy turned his head slowly, then shook it in silence.</p> + +<p>"Nothin' to tell a gal," he answered.</p> + +<p>In the darkness he was a black silhouette except that as he drew deep +puffs the pipe-bowl reddened and gave momentary outline to his tight +jaws and scowling mouth.</p> + +<p>They sat together without talk for a time. Once a small owl flapped to a +branch overhead and sent its mournful quaver out across the night. After +awhile the boy groped around for a stick, and, rising with a sudden +angry oath, hurled it viciously at the bird.</p> + +<p>"Damn thet owl," he complained. "Hit worrits me."</p> + +<p>"Newt—" the girl's voice was softly reproachful—"why did you drive it +away? It wasn't hurtin' anything."</p> + +<p>"Hit warn't a-fotchin' joy ter nobody," he sullenly rejoined. "I hain't +a-feelin' in no fit humor ter be pestered."</p> + +<p>Once more she inquired:</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter?"</p> + +<p>He rose, and his voice broke out passionately.</p> + +<p>"Every man's hand is sot ergin me—but hit hain't no use. I 'lows ter +accomplish my task, ef I has ter go through hell on hossback ter do +hit!"</p> + +<p>She did not know, or vaguely suspect, that the thing he "'lowed" to do +was to kill the man whom she had set high on the pedestal of her +hero-worship; that his avowal was the avowal of the vendetta's lust for +blood. She saw only his isolation and need of friendliness. She did not +know that in letting himself out in even that small measure of +confidence, he was paying tribute to her increasing importance in his +life. She knew only that her sympathy was stirred and that an affection +such as she might have felt for some unlovely dog, starving for +affection, made her want to befriend him.</p> + +<p>"My hand ain't against you," she assured him, and, as the pipe glowed +with a long, half-fierce inhalation, she saw his eyes on her face with a +dumb, half-worshiping expression, for which his lips found no utterance. +But all the man said was:</p> + +<p>"I'm obleeged ter ye," and after that they sat for an hour in silences +rarely broken with a disconnected conversation. It was the conversation +of two very lonely people groping for companionship, but one was very +shy and the other was fettered with a taciturnity too strong to break, +so the groping brought little more than an incoherent sympathy.</p> + +<p>Neither of them heard the footfalls of a horse on the sandy road above +them, and neither of them knew that Black Pete Spooner went into the +cabin and spent a half-hour there. His coming was at once a surprise and +an event, for the people in that house had not heard that he had +reappeared in the hills, and they knew that where he went trouble went +with him.</p> + +<p>"Where's little Newt?" he inquired, peering about the dark corners of +the room.</p> + +<p>"He's done went out somewhars," replied his mother. "When did ye git +hyar, Pete? I heered tell that ye had gone off to some place the other +side of the world."</p> + +<p>"Didn't Newt tell you I was back?"</p> + +<p>"Newt don't never tell us nothin'," complained Clem.</p> + +<p>The Deacon nodded. Then he drew Clem aside.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what little Newt aims to do?" he accusingly demanded.</p> + +<p>Clem shook his head, and his bearded face mirrored anxiety.</p> + +<p>"I done told ye he don't never tell us nothin'."</p> + +<p>"Well, he's aimin' to kill Henry Falkins, an' if he does it, there's +goin' ter be merry hell to pay in these mountains. You've got to keep an +eye on him."</p> + +<p>"My God!" exclaimed the step-father in genuine fright and perplexity. +"What kin I do? He don't pay no mind to me—none whatsoever. Thet boy's +a rattle-snake in human form."</p> + +<p>The Deacon looked the other contemptuously up and down.</p> + +<p>"No, he ain't," was the prompt retort. "A rattle-snake gives warnin', +Newt don't. I'm havin' him watched pretty close. I don't want him hurt, +but he mustn't kill Henry. Don't tell him I've been here, but if he +starts over towards the Falkins place, send word to Jim Spooner's cabin. +Jim will go up to the ridge an' blow his fox horn, an' they'll pass it +along. Try to keep him home from Jackson Saturday, but if he does go, +send word to Jim when he's started, and we'll take care of him when he +gets there." The Deacon turned and disappeared through the door. He had +several other houses to visit, and he had selected the night because in +its darkness he could give his movements a highly beneficial secrecy.</p> + +<p>But, on the following day, Newt met an acquaintance on a hill-trail, who +stopped him for conversation and planted seeds of suspicion in his mind. +He spoke of a rumor traveling from cabin to cabin to the effect that the +Deacon had returned to the hills to act as a pacificator, instead of a +leader of war.</p> + +<p>Newt said nothing and contented himself with listening, but deep in his +suspicious nature uneasy doubts began to stir. A peace might be welcomed +by his people, but to him it threatened the paralyzing of his +trigger-finger. Possibly the wily Deacon had lied to him and turned him +back for some deeper reason than merely to save him the remainder of a +profitless journey.</p> + +<p>So Newton Spooner, as soon as he had the opportunity, began strolling +from cabin to cabin along the way toward the Falkins house once more. He +heard, but did not know the significance of the fox horns that carried +clearly from ridge to ridge, and when he had reached the wayside store +of Sam Hoover, standing on a sandy stretch in the crotch of two creeks, +he instituted active inquiries.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + + +<p>Sam Hoover he thought he could trust. Sam, at least, had come to him +when they were taking him to prison, and had denounced the lethargy with +which his kinsmen were standing idle while he went into bondage.</p> + +<p>The store was a frame shack, presenting at its front a barrel-littered +porch and a hitching-rack. Beyond one of the creek branches stood a +dilapidated "meeting house" in a flat, gravel-strewn area. Sam Hoover +himself sat at his door; a slouching giant in store clothes, coatless +and open of vest, collarless and soiled of linen. His movements were +ponderous, and his eyes were sunk in pouched sockets.</p> + +<p>As Newt slouched up to the porch in the forenoon, the waves of heat were +playing over the earth, and the mountains were torpid with mid-day +stillness. This was a point about half-way between the two clan centers, +and the man who trafficked here presented to each faction in turn the +guise of friendship and to each played the tale-bearer under his smug +semblance of neutrality.</p> + +<p>But the place was a point from which branched the road that Henry +Falkins must travel to Jackson, and the store-keeper would know when he +had last passed that way.</p> + +<p>Now, it happened that, though the Deacon had invented on the spur of the +moment his news of Henry Falkins' departure, he had come much nearer the +truth than he himself guessed. Almost a week intervened before Saturday +and it had occurred to the young man, although he would have laughed had +someone else made the suggestion, that the Fourth of July held some +element of danger for himself. That being the case, he was possessed of +a desire to see the girl in Winchester in the meantime. It might be a +last chance. He had no intent of confiding in her anything that might +alarm her, but he thought that with her words of love fresh in his +memory he could undertake Saturday's work armed and accoutered with a +higher confidence. So, almost on the heels of the Deacon, when he had +left the Falkins house, Henry had ridden, bound for Jackson and +Winchester. Had Newt Spooner gone home on foot and by the county road +instead of with the Deacon and by sequestered trails, the two men must +have met near Hoover's store—and Henry Falkins would not have gone on +to Winchester.</p> + +<p>Sam Hoover greeted the boy with a, "Howdy, Newt?" and the boy sat on the +floor of the porch with a silent nod, and leaned his shoulders against a +post. At last, he questioned casually:</p> + +<p>"Hev ye seed anything of Henry Falkins here-abouts of late?"</p> + +<p>"He rid by hyar this week," the store-keeper responded. "Hit war either +the day afore yistiddy or the day afore thet, I disremember which, but +he stopped to water his horse, and passed the time o' day with me. He +'lowed he war a-travelin' ter Winchester."</p> + +<p>"Air ye plumb shore he hain't rid back?"</p> + +<p>"He 'lowed he'd be back Satiddy—an' I hain't seen him pass by, so I +reckon he warn't a-lyin'."</p> + +<p>Newt sat watching a flock of geese that waddled down the gravel to the +creek, and Hoover forbore to question him. After a space the boy rose, +stretched his arms and legs, and succinctly announced, "Reckon I'll be +a-startin' home." He did not know that men apportioned to that task by +the Deacon watched and reported his going and coming, even to the words +of the brief conversation at the wayside store. Sam Hoover, however, +gave his information impartially, and the Deacon was duly informed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Henry Falkins was riding along the gleaming white ribbon of turnpike +near Winchester.</p> + +<p>Over this land was brooding one of those days of rare charm that +sometimes come to the bluegrass about the first of July. While the +summer was yet young and while the gold-headed wheat was falling into +rich shocks behind the binder blade, there had drifted into the heat a +vagrant breath of Indian summer. The distances lay softened by a +mistiness that clung like a haze of dreams. Into the air stole an +insinuating freshness, which set the blood to a keener pulsing, and over +the breast of the undulating soil hung an impalpable, but unescapable, +mantle of romance.</p> + +<p>The slim girl who sat her dancing saddle-mare with the easy grace of a +daughter of generations of horsemen, felt it and glanced sidewise at the +somewhat grave-faced young man by her side. He, too, felt it and drank +in long drafts of the incensed air. He was as well mounted as herself, +but his horsemanship lacked her instinctive freedom of poise. Henry +Falkins, though much of his life had been spent in the saddle, had been +reared to the ways of a country where men must ride rough and tortuous +roads and rarely ride well. The horse of race-track and show-ring and +hunting field were as alien there as the other bluegrass luxuries of +wainscoted halls and silent servants and groaning tables and +silver-surmounted sideboards.</p> + +<p>Even now, athrill with the joy of the moment, Henry Falkins felt at the +back of his mind an oppressive sense of the humorless and brooding +hills, and the humorless and brooding men who peopled them.</p> + +<p>They were turning between stone gate-posts into a driveway that led +through shaded woodlands where thorough-bred dams grazed in sleek +aristocracy with leggy colts capering at their sides. Beyond was the +brick house, toned by its generations to an ancient richness, with its +harping pine and cedar trees about it, and at the left its garden, +giving a border of bright flower mosaic.</p> + +<p>They had not been talking much. They were both happy enough to be silent +together, but as they turned into the home place Lucinda raised +sparkling eyes. He was riding close, and, as his horse swerved suddenly +to the side of her own mount, she leaned impulsively toward him and let +her gauntleted hand drop for a moment to his bridle arm, as she +whispered happily:</p> + +<p>"My bluegrass is yours, and your mountains are mine—and all the life of +Kentucky is ours!"</p> + +<p>At the broad verandah where a negro appeared to take their horses, +Colonel Cameron looked up from his paper and smiled his welcome. The +entire house seemed to smile a welcome. Late roses still clung along the +walls where their earlier brethren were fallen to pods. The girl sat in +a deep porch-chair and the setting sun gilded the landscape and rested +on her delicate coloring and features as she smiled on the two men whom +she loved: the old man of the passing order of chivalry and elegance, +and the young man of slowly awakening hills. And when night came the man +and the girl sat alone in the shadow of an oak. Soon he must be back in +the troubled highlands, but to-night was his, with its stars overhead; +its sense of security and delight; its whispered talk; and, drifting +from the negro cabins, the mellow cadence of songs and the tinkle of +banjos. When the girl fell silent and he spoke only by the telegraphy of +his hand-clasp on her slender fingers, there came to his ears the words +of an old song, forgotten save by these children and grandchildren of +slaves:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Way down yander in de big bayou—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whar de Yankee gunboats lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ole Massa's tuck his hat an' coat—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' I spec's he's runned away."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Yet, Henry Falkins was conscious of missing something that should go +with the night, for there was no calling of whippoorwills from the +overhead thickets of timber and no dark shadow-walls of mountains +closing in about him.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Early on the morning of Saturday, the Fourth of July, Newt Spooner left +the door of the cabin on Troublesome, and went across to the stable, +carrying his rifle. Under his coat was strapped Clem's revolver, and +again his pockets were "strutty with ca'tridges." He vouchsafed no +explanation, and Clem, though heavy-hearted with anxiety, asked no +questions and attempted no dissuasion. He merely stood looking on +stupidly, as the boy led out and saddled the one nag in the stable, and +swung the beast's head toward Jackson, riding away in the morning mists. +Over these roads, climbing, dropping, crossing water-courses sometimes +by a dozen fords to the mile, he did not hurry. He would not reach +Jackson by the north road until about ten o'clock, and then he would +drift quietly and unostentatiously about for a while, watching the +gathering of the two clans. There might be general trouble or there +might not; but until noon quiet would prevail. The Deacon had certain +plans and would be in command. The boy was learning the lesson of craft. +He meant to see the Deacon and assure him that he had given up his plan +of private revenge. He would even volunteer for such service to the clan +as Black Pete should suggest. Having so disarmed suspicion, he could +have a free hand, and, when his chance came, could employ it. Once +avenged, he was ready to answer for his treachery.</p> + +<p>The usually deserted roads were no longer empty. From every trail men +were riding townward. The rumor had gone broadcast that to-day would be +eventful, and from both sides of the line the clans were gathering. Many +of them arrived early, and instinctively Spooners grouped themselves on +one side of the street and Falkinses on the other. Rifles were much in +evidence, but with this exception there was as yet no sign of trouble.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>As Newt had ridden out of the stable-lot, Minerva had come to the door +of the cabin. On the Fourth of July there were no classes at the +college, and the girl was back. She saw her father gaze after the +departing horseman and then turn with a sagging jaw and an expression of +genuine alarm in his eyes. She heard him shout a summons to his younger +step-son, and a premonition of danger arose in her heart.</p> + +<p>She ran over to the stable, and caught Clem Rawlins by the arm.</p> + +<p>"What is it, pappy?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>He turned a frightened face toward her, and licked his bearded lips. For +a moment he was silent, then he blurted out with no preface or +preparation:</p> + +<p>"Newty's done sot out fer Jackson ter git Henry Falkins."</p> + +<p>With a gasp which she struggled vainly to suppress, the girl reeled back +and stood leaning for support against the rough timbers of the stable. +For a moment she could not understand, and when she found words she +asked in a dazed voice:</p> + +<p>"To get Henry Falkins—why?"</p> + +<p>Over the hills the mists were slowly lifting. The upper peaks still +trailed over their heights, veil-like streamers of gray mists which +blotted out all outlines; but below them pale and iridescent patches of +color glowed with indescribable delicacy and beauty. The miracle of +awakening morning in the mountains was fulfilling itself. There before +her the girl saw the crude barn and heard the grunting of razor-backs +and the voices of the geese as they waddled down toward the water. She +saw her father brushing his arm across his face, and shouting at +intervals for his younger step-son. Once more she repeated:</p> + +<p>"To get Henry Falkins—why?"</p> + +<p>"Henry's ther man thet penitensheried Newt," came the response. "Newt's +done swore the blood-oath. He's done tried oncet afore, but he was +hindered. Thar's a meetin' over at Jackson terday, an' men air lookin' +fer trouble. Newt aims ter git Henry terday."</p> + +<p>Suddenly the girl's stupor broke into a fury of inquisition.</p> + +<p>"Does ye aim ter stand there an' suffer a man ter be murdered without +liftin' a finger ter save him?" Her questioning voice rose shrilly and +lapsed into dialect. "Why did ye stand by an' let Newt go?"</p> + +<p>Clem Rawlins shook his head.</p> + +<p>"What war I a-goin' ter do?" he perplexedly demanded. "Does ye reckon +Newty war liable ter take counsel offen me."</p> + +<p>"Well, ye've got ter do suthin now, Clem Rawlins," she commanded, and +her voice was fiercely imperative. "Ther blood-curse hes laid on these +hyar hills full long, an' God Almighty will hold ye blameful ef ye don't +stop this killin'."</p> + +<p>The man stood there dazed and frightened, and dropped his eyes before +the flaming accusation of her steady gaze.</p> + +<p>His bare toes twisted themselves in the dust, and at last he spoke, +almost in a whine:</p> + +<p>"Ther Deacon hes done bid me ter fotch word ter Jim Spooner's cabin ef +Newt fared forth terday. They aims ter send ther signal ahead with fox +horns, an' ther Deacon 'lows ter look atter Newty when he gits ter town. +Thet's what I'm a-callin' sonny fer. I wants ter send him over ter Jim's +house."</p> + +<p>The girl laughed scornfully. This moment of need had transformed her +from Minerva of the schools to Minerva of the unrelenting hills. Her +mission was still the mission of the school, but her method was the +method of the hills.</p> + +<p>"An' ye aims ter trust ther life of ther only real man in these +mountings ter ther dawdling of sonny?" The question was contemptuous. +She, who brooked day-long heckling without retort, must now be answered +without evasion. "No—I'll go myself, an' I won't stop thar. I'll borry +a ridin'-critter from Jim Spooner, an' I'll take the short cut over ther +ridges an' ther roughs, an' I'll git ter town ahead of Newt. I aims ter +carry a warnin' inter Jackson."</p> + +<p>She wheeled and without sun-bonnet or hat plunged into the laurel +thickets of the hillside, and was climbing with a tireless stride up +slopes which would have winded a razor-back hog.</p> + +<p>Later on, she could think: now, she must act. The life of the man she +had idealized was the prize for which she was fighting.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the full significance of the boy's declaration that he would +accomplish his end if he had to "ride through hell on hossback" came to +her.</p> + +<p>She had started out by hating Newt. Of late, she had felt that deep +sympathy for him which is the borderland of affection. She had resolved +on reclaiming him. Now, again, she hated him.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes after she had started, she was riding away from the +stile of Jim Spooner's house on a borrowed mule. The short cut she +contemplated taking required a mule. There were fords where a horse, +with its less steady footing, would have probably hurled her to death. +There were washed out trails where the ride would be in the nature of +tightrope walking. But these things did not deter Minerva Rawlins. She +was a mountain woman with a mission to perform.</p> + +<p>As she rode away from the stile, she heard a deep mellow note, which was +not loud, but which she knew would carry for miles—the note of a fox +horn. It was once the signal of the moss-troopers. It had rung over the +heather and gorse in Scotland hundreds of years ago. To-day it would +ring as truly over the Cumberland ridges where these belated Scotch +high-landers lived the old life in the old, unalleviated way.</p> + +<p>She leaned forward in her saddle, lashing her mule with a hickory +branch, and listened, and at last her lips curved in a momentary smile +of satisfaction. Far ahead of her, more faintly and more distantly, she +heard it again. The message was being relayed.</p> + +<p>But in that long, hard ride, with the forests tuneful in their color and +their unspeakable beauty, yet eloquent in their silences, she had ample +opportunity for reflection, and as she reflected, the bitterness oozed +out of her heart, and in its place came compassion.</p> + +<p>Now, she realized that she was not fighting only to save the life of the +man whom she had idealized, who to her was the one knightly person she +had ever known; but, also, to save from himself the boy with the black +obsession.</p> + +<p>At first, Newt had seemed only a murder-driven miscreant whose aims she +must thwart. Now, she saw him from a different angle. He was the victim +of the false order, which those men and women at the school sought to +amend. She, also, was seeking to amend it, but while she must give +battle to Newt Spooner and defeat his purpose, she could do so with the +realization that his guilt was only the guilt of a sort of lunacy, for +which he was scarcely responsible.</p> + +<p>His was one idea. He was a prison-reformed man, which is often to say an +embittered man.</p> + +<p>Of course, she knew that, when he learned what she had done, Newt would +believe that the one friend he had ever known had become his +irretrievable enemy. Of course, in honesty, if he did not learn it from +another source, she must herself tell him what part she had played in +this day's happenings. That she would do, and in the end perhaps he +would thank her.</p> + +<p>At last, on a spent and limping mule, she rode into Jackson. Finally, +she stood face to face with the venerable old man, to whom she gave her +message. Henry Falkins had not yet reached the town, but she conveyed +her warning to his father, and, when she did so, she learned that the +pre-arranged code of fox-horn signals had already brought the tidings, +so she slipped away and hid herself indoors at the house of a kinsman.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It happened that just as Newt rode his horse around the bend of the +north road and turned into Main Street, his eyes narrowed and his jaws +clamped, and the lines that ran from his nose down around the corners of +his mouth grew deeper and harder. He had heard the whistle of a train, +and he knew that it was a signal announcing the approach of his victim.</p> + +<p>In point of fact, it heralded not only Henry Falkins, but Red Newton, +and Buddy Spooner, his accomplice, freshly released on bond from the +Winchester jail, and returning, perhaps, to fire the waiting volcano.</p> + +<p>Henry Falkins had seen the two defendants sitting quietly and peaceably +in the smoking-car, and they had nodded affably to him. The young man +stood now in the car vestibule, as the train roared over the trestle +and slowed down at the station. On the platform were two groups of men. +They stood with a space between them and eagerly watched the incoming +cars. As Henry Falkins swung himself down from the step, he noted, +despite the general and studied calmness of deportment, several details +which were to his eye significant. He saw in both groups the faces of +men from far away in the recessed fastnesses of the hills, who came to +town rarely, save in answer to the call of the clan. These men were even +more uncouth of apparel and wilder of visage than their brethren. Their +dialect, too, was quaint, and some of them carried muzzle-loading +squirrel-guns of a pattern long obsolete, save in the antiquated life of +"over yon."</p> + +<p>McAllister Falkins met his son on the platform, and together they +crossed the toll-bridge into the meandering streets of the town proper, +where the shacks and houses sprawled like pieces thrown haphazard from a +dice-box on a dozen levels and slants. At length, Old Mack voiced his +apprehension:</p> + +<p>"It looks ugly, my boy," he said. "Jake Falerin's son, young Jake, has +assumed the leadership, and his one song is punishment of his father's +murder. He's drinking and excited, and he has a strong and +nasty-tempered force behind him. I've been with him, urging peace, and +several of his older advisers seem inclined to listen. I've gotten their +promise that they will make every mortal effort to delay any outbreak +until I've made my speech at noon. That's as far as I can move them."</p> + +<p>"And the other fellows—the Spooners?" inquired the son anxiously. +"What's their mood? If they commence celebrating the return of these +assassins, the situation will become hopeless."</p> + +<p>McAllister nodded.</p> + +<p>"So far they seem quiet enough, but they are all armed to the teeth and +keyed to concert pitch. Black Pete has kept religiously out of sight, +and seems to be acting in good faith. He slipped secretly into town +before sunrise, and has been under cover ever since in the court-house. +He has talked to several of his leaders in my presence. They, too, have +promised to hold their hands until I have spoken. My God, Henry, the +single chance seems to hang on the possibility of my being able to sweep +them off their feet—and if I fail—!" He broke off suddenly, and his +eyes wore the torture of weariness.</p> + +<p>They walked between swelling crowds, always separated by the width of +the street into opposing forces, but from both groups the glances that +fell upon father and son were glances of confidence and admiration. If +there was any man living whose voice could penetrate, with a message of +harmony, their armored hatreds, that man was McAllister Falkins. But he +had won and held his influence by his total aloofness of attitude. Now, +he was to take a central and pivotal position, and, if he failed, his +prestige would go down to wreck with his effort, and the work of a +lifetime would collapse like a pin-pricked balloon.</p> + +<p>No women or children were to be seen on the streets. Doors were closed, +and the more public hitching-racks were empty. Horses and mules had been +relegated to back streets and sheltered places. But as yet from the +gathering storm-cloud had broken no rumble of thunder and no flash of +lightning. There was only a constant tightening of nerves to the point +where they must be released or snap.</p> + +<p>To the eyes of Henry Falkins, the answer was hideously clear. They meant +to hear his father patiently as a matter of respect; but they had no +intention of being influenced by what he said. When he reached his +conclusion, the gathered tempest would break; and, when it had subsided, +another bloody chapter would have been added to the history of these +mud-rutted and twisting streets. It could not be undone.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, even the complimentary restraint could not last, if a single +fanatic broke from the order of the ranks.</p> + +<p>The hours crawled with heavy suspense toward noon. Crowds that had been +attenuated strings along the sidewalks began drawing in and +concentrating at the court-house square. On the right, the Spooners +gathered around the figures of the two returned defendants, while on the +left the Falkinses drew about a raw-boned young giant whose baleful eyes +never left the faces of Red Newton and Buddy Spooner. This was "Young +Jake," itching to be about his work of reprisal and impatient of delay. +Stragglers drifted in until only the brick path and a few feet of +hard-tramped earth at its margin separated the two armies. Newt Spooner +was going up and down the street sorely perplexed, because he had been +unable to locate the Deacon and make the pretended peace-pact, which was +a prerequisite to his own arrangements. Wherever he went, a half-dozen +men went also. They were not always the same men, but they were always +the same in number, and he knew that he was being watched by an escort +of the Deacon's selection, and that until he satisfied that leader, he +could not shake them off.</p> + +<p>Then he saw McAllister and Henry Falkins, coming toward the court-house. +The sun was directly overhead now, and the shadows were short. Newt +tightened his grip on his rifle, and, as he did so, the unconfessed +body-guard closed around him and worried him with casual conversation. +The boy ground his teeth and waited.</p> + +<p>Then, as McAllister and Henry Falkins turned into the court-house yard, +something happened.</p> + +<p>Young Jake Falerin had made his way through his own crowd to the foot of +the court-house steps, as befitted the claimant to feud leadership. From +that place of vantage he could hear what was said and give his orders +when the speech ended. Red Newton and Buddy Spooner had acted on a +similar impulse from their side of the path, and as the recently +orphaned youth raised his eyes, to find them gazing into those of his +principal enemies, his promise to wait became a forgotten thing.</p> + +<p>With an oath, his hand swept under his coat, and came out armed. Red +Newton had been equally swift, and for an instant the two men stood +facing each other with leveled pistols.</p> + +<p>At that cue, the clicking of scores of rifle-hammers ran along the +waiting lines. Yet, for a second or two, there followed no other sound. +The knowledge that to draw a trigger indubitably meant to fall oneself +in the same breath, was holding them in check for an undecided breathing +space. If a gun cracked now, it meant wholesale carnage along those +ranks. Both lines knew it—and hesitated.</p> + +<p>Then, while they stood tensed of muscle and blazing of eye, old +McAllister Falkins stepped between the ringleaders, and held up his +arms. At his side stood his son Henry, and on the quiet of indrawn and +tight-held breaths the elder's words broke with almost as staccato a +sharpness as that which would have come from the lips of the guns.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + + +<p>For years no man had heard McAllister Falkins speak except in the smooth +and cultivated parlance of the lowlands. In Congress he had been +accounted silver-tongued, yet now, by some stress of excitement, when +the white-haired patriarch lifted up his voice, words came tumbling from +his lips, not in measured phrases but in the crude cascading force of +vernacular.</p> + +<p>Henry Falkins had felt instinctively that the greater danger for his +father lay toward the guns of the Spooners, since it was hardly likely, +even in so impassioned a crisis, that a Falkins rifle would turn on a +Falkins breast. Acting in response to that belief, he had stepped +between the old man and Red Newton, and the two men stood back to back, +while the tableau held, each of them unarmed.</p> + +<p>And as old McAllister raised his clenched hands and roared out in a +voice that carried, "Stop hit, ye damn' fools!" he found his snapping +eyes gazing into a pair that looked down into his own, though he stood +an even six feet in his socks. The eyes of the protagonist were not +snapping like his own, but smoldering dangerously with hatred and +resolve. The entire face was black and rigid, from its unkempt locks of +jet to its high outstanding cheekbones and clamped under jaw. The right +hand that had raised the pistol still held it, but instead of pressing +it to the breast of his enemy, young Jake now found it trained on the +venerated man whom he must not injure, and with slow unwillingness the +muzzle drooped.</p> + +<p>"What deviltry air this?" thundered McAllister Falkins, addressing +himself to the young ringleader. "What hes happened to the breed of +Falkinses thet a man what gave his hand in contract breaks his bond? Air +the Falkinses turned liars and pledge-busters?"</p> + +<p>"Why hain't ye a-talkin' ter them other fellers, too?" demanded young +Jake with that nasal shrillness which excitement brings to the mountain +tongue. "Does ye see any more guns over hyar then amongst them +murderers?"</p> + +<p>At the epithet, a murmur ran ominously along the opposite side of the +path, but there were men there to quiet it at the raising of Henry +Falkins' hand; men representing the Deacon, whose influence, though +unseen, was powerful enough to hold his people leashed.</p> + +<p>"Never mind why I don't talk to them." The resonant voice of Old Mack +rang like a bell, and, now that the first death-freighted instant had +passed, he spoke again without dialect. "I'm talking to you now. You-all +gave me your pledge that you would hear me out without a breach of +peace. You tried to break that pledge. You drew first. I saw you. I am +talking to you now, and I speak as the oldest man in the county who +bears the name of Falkins. I speak as the man who has the right, if he +chooses, to be the head of the Falkins family, and I am talking to you +who are a young cub of a boy and whose name is not even Falkins—and by +God, sir, I mean to be listened to!"</p> + +<p>Sentence mounted on sentence with growing stress of passionate force, +and then came a new silence as the old man stood there, weaponless and +rigid, glaring into the face of the younger, who, with pistol +half-raised, burned slowly from the nape of his sinewy neck to the top +of his forehead in an angry wave of color. But suddenly at his back +young Jake felt, rather than heard, a low murmur, and he knew, as it +grew and traveled among his clansmen, that at a word from this +gray-beard, his people would repudiate the young pretender and follow +the aged and rightful leader into war, or—which was a more stressful +test—into peace.</p> + +<p>While this question of family supremacy was argued on the Falkins' side +of the path, the Spooners stood silent, intruding no evidence of +interest. They simply waited.</p> + +<p>"You have assumed to be the leader of the Falkinses," went on the old +man. "By what authority? Tell me that!"</p> + +<p>"My pap war the head of our kith an' kin," retorted Jake hotly; "an' I'm +his son. He's done been murdered, an' I hain't the sort of a Falkins +that sets still an' lets them things go on."</p> + +<p>And so capricious is the spirit of a mob that at that statement, as +though they had been momentarily misled, a new murmur of concurrence in +the sentiment rose from the Falkins side and one or two voices—well in +the protected rear—shouted, "No, and we hain't nuther!"</p> + +<p>"Silence!" roared old McAllister again. "Let's talk about one thing at a +time. You gave me your hand to wait until I had had my say, and you +tried to break your bond. When I have had my say, you men can talk about +what you are going to do. If you make a move before I've uttered my +final word—either you men over there—" with a wave of the hand to the +right, "or you over there—" with a wave to the left—"you stamp both +crowds with the brand of perjury. And, when I talk, the first thing I +shall demand is that the Falkinses either change their names or get a +grown man with brains in his head to lead them."</p> + +<p>The speaker paused, and the crowd waited, tense and breathless, but now +the rifles again hung at their bearers' sides, or rested with grounded +stocks. Then young Jake inquired in a sneering drawl:</p> + +<p>"Wall, why don't ye begin yore speech?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to, but first I'm going to ask your uncle, Job Falerin, and +Jim Falerin and Mark McDonald to come out here."</p> + +<p>Slowly three men worked their way to the front of the crowd.</p> + +<p>"Men," instructed McAllister Falkins, with the decisiveness of a general +officer who has no doubt of instant obedience for his commands, "take +that boy's gun away from him until I'm through." For a moment they +hesitated, and the boy himself tightened his grip on his weapon until +his knuckles showed in white spots.</p> + +<p>McAllister Falkins caught the wrist and held it; without a word the +three elder kinsmen surrounded and disarmed the young insurgent. +Instantly, McAllister Falkins wheeled to face the Spooners.</p> + +<p>"Jim Spooner, Joe Belmear, Jerry Sparvin!" He ripped out the names +rapidly and crisply. "Do you do likewise with Red Newton and Buddy +Spooner."</p> + +<p>But the two defendants had been reading the signs, and, as their kinsmen +came forward, they voluntarily surrendered their weapons.</p> + +<p>"Now," went on the old man, "I'm going to ask you boys on both sides of +the road to show me one more evidence of good faith. Let all the men in +the front of this crowd carry back their guns and stack them at the +rear. Then let them come forward again. Don't let us have any rifles or +pistols at the front."</p> + +<p>Rather wondering at their ready compliance, yet under the force of +something like a spell and also with a sense of immense relief, the +crowd began shifting and jostling, and when it again fell quiet not a +barrel or stock was visible.</p> + +<p>Slowly old McAllister ascended the court-house steps and stood looking +down.</p> + +<p>"Now," he announced quietly, "I want those same three Falkins men and +those same three Spooners, still armed, to come up here and stand on +either side of me. I wish to have the honor of their services as my +escort and body guard."</p> + +<p>As he spoke the last words the old orator smiled, and through the crowd, +humorless and grim as it was, ran a murmur of responsive laughter at the +ludicrous jest of this old lion asking personal protection. Yet he had +drawn impartially from both elements, and the men named stepped to their +places with alacrity.</p> + +<p>Then the old man began to speak.</p> + +<p>The mountaineer has few pleasures, and except for feudal warfare, few +excitements. He loves the fulminations of public speaking and the +stirring influences of the forensic. McAllister Falkins they believed to +be the greatest of all orators, and no interrupting sound broke the +thread of his speech. He praised the good in both factions and denounced +their mutual lawlessness. He pleaded with the Falkinses, as with members +of his own family, to await patiently the process of law in the trials +of Red Newton and Buddy Spooner. If they were guilty, they should be +hanged. If they had acted in self-defense, they had the right to Spooner +forgiveness as well as vindication at the hands of the jury. He hazarded +no opinion as to the facts. He only begged all men to wait and see, and +while they waited that their leaders should shake hands and maintain as +a sacred thing the truce so plighted. But it was the fashion of his +saying these things which in the end availed, for he knew his hearers +and played on their emotions as a pianist plays on the keys of a +familiar instrument.</p> + +<p>"Why," he cried at last, "in the good days when we all came, Spooners +and Falkinses alike, out of the mother state, facing our common enemies +in the wilderness, we came as comrades and as friends. When we +quarreled, we settled it in the honest way of men with fist and skull. +Then we shot from cover only upon wild beast and Indian, never upon our +neighbor. We lived the lives of men, and died God-fearing deaths."</p> + +<p>He paused. He had been heard with a rapt attention, but he knew that the +difficult part of his speech lay yet ahead, and, as he wiped his +forehead with his handkerchief, the voice of young Jake Falerin flung +challengingly up at him the first interruption.</p> + +<p>"We can't be friends with Black Pete Spooner a-stirrin' up strife in +these mountings." And after that came cries of "Where is Black Pete?" +and "Tell us about the Deacon!"</p> + +<p>"Black Pete Spooner is in the mountains, and he is here in town," +replied the orator quietly, though he found it difficult to make so +portentous an announcement calmly. "But he declares he is here in the +interests of peace, and is willing to let you, not only Spooners, but +Spooners and Falkinses alike, judge whether or not he can stay. If you +decide against him he is ready to go. He asks only that you hear him +out, and I ask only that every man of you give me his hand on it, that +until he has spoken no one will attack him. I have never had dealings +with the Deacon. I have never trusted him, but now I ask you as a +personal favor to hear him; holding your hands and paroling him in the +interval to my care and in my custody."</p> + +<p>There was no immediate response. A moody silence settled over the +Falkins men, as though the favorite patriarch had asked too much, but +McAllister Falkins turned questioningly to Job and Jim Falerin and Mark +McDonald, standing at his side. These three ambassadors looked out over +the sea of upturned faces with the scrutiny of weather-prophets studying +the clouds. After that, for a moment they whispered together, and at +last Job, as the senior, stepped forward and declared in a clear voice:</p> + +<p>"The Falkins boys is willin' ter hear what the Deacon's got ter say. +They're willin' to give their hands thet if they thinks he's a-lyin', as +he gene'lly is, they'll hold him safe twell the train leaves fer +Winchester termorrow mornin'—provided the Spooners keep faith."</p> + +<p>"That's all I ask," assented McAllister Falkins, and he held out his +hand. Slowly and solemnly, in the order of their ages, Job, Jim and Mark +shook it, pledging their kinsmen. The whole proceeding, so medieval and +rude, yet so characteristic, struck young Henry Falkins with a grip of +the dramatic.</p> + +<p>But that moment of drama was to be followed by another and tenser one, +for the elderly speaker turned toward the court-house door at his back, +and raised his hand; and in response to the signal the tall and +dignified figure of the Deacon appeared for a moment framed there, and +came forward to take his place at the side of his sponsor.</p> + +<p>They knew he was coming, were expecting him; had agreed to hear him +speak, and yet, when they actually saw him, it was with something like a +shock to the Falkins element, so that, despite the bondage of their +pledge, a low chorused growl ran from throat to throat. Many of their +younger clansmen had never seen this man of whom such black tales were +told. None of the older men had seen him in recent years.</p> + +<p>His name and his repute stood as a title of ruthless power, of guile and +murder. It was a name with which children were frightened into obedience +in log-cabins, up and down the creeks where Falkinses and Falerins +dwelt.</p> + +<p>And for a space Black Pete said nothing. He stood looking down, his +broad shoulders drawn back, his hat at the familiar forward tilt, his +long chin raised, and in his steady eyes the contemplative half-dreamy +look of a pastor gazing down on his flock. Perhaps he was thinking of +that other scene when another man had stood, just as he did now, on an +elevation at the front of a court-house. That man had fallen at his +order. The Deacon knew that to one-half of his auditors he was a man +"marked down" and a truce-breaker, but his face mirrored no such +recognition, no apprehension, and, when he began to speak, his voice +went out to the far edge of the crowd, though it went in such soft +modulation that it did not seem loud to those who stood nearest.</p> + +<p>He declared that he was not attempting to defend his past. His present +mission was reparation. He told with a homely and convincing force, yet +with modesty and humbleness, of his experiences and conversion. He had +come back only to ask permission to stay; and, if permitted to do so, +his influences would hereafter be for peace.</p> + +<p>McAllister and Henry Falkins would testify that it was at his suggestion +that these speeches had been made. He had talked with the Spooner +leaders, and could also speak for them. He was ready to establish a +truce of two years' duration, and he hoped at the end of that time it +might be made permanent. He did not hope to be believed without proof. +He therefore offered himself as a hostage, and hereby placed himself in +the custody of the three Falkinses, who stood upon the court-house +steps. He would go unarmed to their houses as often as required, and +keep in touch with them—as a probationer. He took all the chances that +such a course involved—and took them willingly, he said, since, if he +could bring peace to men who should live as neighbors and friends, his +own life was a little thing. It was a masterful bit of hypocritical +eloquence, of <i>argumentum ad hominem</i>; but it was made to simple and +illiterate hearers. At its end, he turned dramatically, drew from its +holster his heavy-calibered revolver, and presented it, grip foremost, +to Job Falerin. An almost awed silence fell on the audience. Across the +street, windows began to open cautiously and female heads to peer out. +The long, unbroken quiet had reassured the town. Curiosity was +overcoming caution. From the hotel, a short distance away, two traveling +salesmen, who had heretofore remained indoors, ventured to take a walk +of investigation. Then with an audacity that only a born leader would +have risked, the Deacon made a suggestion to his custodians and with +them went down the stairs, not among the Spooners, but among the +Falkinses. He walked like a revival convert being accepted into +fellowship. He offered his hand to young Jake with the declaration:</p> + +<p>"Jake, I aims to see that the trials for your pappy's killin' are on the +dead square."</p> + +<p>After a moment of hesitation and to the astonishment of everyone, the +young feudist accepted and shook the proffered hand, which, though he +did not know it, had directed the assassination of his sire. In about +ten minutes, the three Falkins men and their hostage returned to the +steps, where McAllister and Henry still waited, and in final ceremony +the three Spooners gravely shook hands with the three Falkinses. Upon +that signal, the clear space of the pathway overflowed, and the men on +both sides mingled. Flasks appeared, and enemy drank with enemy. The +truce was signed. Henry Falkins heard one old man from far back in the +hills say to another, equally old, to whom he had not spoken in years:</p> + +<p>"Jesse, you damned old sinner, why hain't ye nuver come over ter buy +them hawgs offen me thet ye traded fer ten year back?"</p> + +<p>And the other man laughed shrilly, and retorted:</p> + +<p>"Why you dod-gasted ol' rascal, I knew too durn well ye'd swindle me." +And then with loud guffaws of laughter they passed and tilted the flask, +and hobbled away arm-in-arm.</p> + +<p>From the window of a house on Main Street, commanding the rutty +thoroughfare which glared in the yellow July sun, Minerva looked out at +the scene of reconciliation, and her heart beat with relief. A day of +bloodshed had been averted, and the man she had ridden a dangerous road +to warn walked in safety with his shoulders drawn back and his face +smiling. For a moment, the girl wished that he might know how, since +that day when he handed her the medal, she had carried his image in her +heart—but, of course, if he remembered her at all, it must be only as +one of the children of the old benighted order who were availing +themselves of the light from the torch of which he had so eloquently +spoken.</p> + +<p>But in all this peace-making one man saw only defeat. Newt Spooner with +heavy heart had left the crowd, and mounted his horse. Despair had +settled on his soul, for now to kill Henry Falkins would be an +impossibility. But as he rode into Main Street, crowded with +indiscriminately mingled factions, he saw McAllister Falkins a +half-block away and his son Henry, walking side by side.</p> + +<p>Then, suddenly, Newt Spooner saw all things through a fog of crimson. +The blood leaped to his temples and pounded there. He had made no truce, +had signed no pledge, was bound by no man's bond. He would kill Henry +Falkins here and now, and then go down like a mad mullah, satisfied to +pay the penalty with his own life. He cocked the rifle and swung +sidewise in his saddle, supporting his weight on one leg, so that he +might face the better to the side. Then he kicked both heels into the +sides of the old nag, and went yelling and careening down the street, to +overtake his victim and defy both clans.</p> + +<p>Still gazing from the window, Minerva Rawlins saw that, too, and stood +breathless with her hands against her breast, as the wild-eyed, +liquor-inflamed boy came dashing along through the crowd. The town was +small, and here, on the little strip of Main Street, all its activities +centered. She looked on as one may watch a stage from a box, and her +fingers clutched at her calico dress, as she stood in an agony of +suspense.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + + +<p>The town marshal at Jackson was Micah French, and he was town marshal +because his temperament was not one to be depressed by the quick step of +stressful events. The arrival in town of men a-gallop and inflamed by +liquor was not in those days unusual, and was regarded with a certain +tolerance. The law was accustomed to let youth have its fling and later, +under circumstances more auspicious, to serve a writ on the offender and +hale him in a spirit of contrition before the magistrate.</p> + +<p>This, however, was no ordinary day. Had Newt Spooner timed his +demonstration for forty-five minutes earlier, his coming would have set +such a large storm thundering that no peace-maker could have averted +battle. Newt had waited, hoping to placate the Deacon, and had failed. +Now, in desperation, he was running amuck. For a moment, Micah French, +loitering at the curb in front of the court-house, failed to grasp the +significance of the matter. He followed the course of usage, and allowed +Newt to pass by.</p> + +<p>But the Deacon, standing in a doorway which McAllister and Henry Falkins +were just then approaching, recognized the full threat of the episode. +He was accompanied by the six men of both clans, who had undertaken to +act as the personal guard for Old Mack. As the two peace-makers came +abreast, the Deacon, laying a hand on the arm of each, halted them and +gave a signal to the others to close around. Then, as the two men, so +suddenly swallowed in a human cordon, still questioned without +comprehension, they were borne back into the doorway of the small shack +store, and the Deacon with his three Spooner kinsmen ran again to the +street.</p> + +<p>The Falkins guardsmen had taken in the whole situation at a glance, and +they remained indoors with the men whose safeguarding had suddenly +become something more than an honorary task. The thing had been abrupt, +but they needed no explanation. A Spooner had "bust loose," and to the +Spooners belonged the first duty of handling their own law-breakers. If +the Spooners failed, then they could themselves act later.</p> + +<p>So, Newt, aflame with rage and the liquor which during all the forenoon +he had been drinking, jerked his horse to its flanks, and looked wildly +about. He had been riding in the approved fashion of the mountain bad +man with his reins in his teeth and both hands dedicated to his +firearms. His feet had been flying like flails because the old nag was +unresponsive to his belligerent ardor and lent itself grudgingly to this +mad career. But, spurring and shouting through his clenched teeth with +his body swung sidewise for the broadside, Newt suddenly saw his victim +surrounded and spirited into a place of safety. Then, with a howl of +anger, he took one hand from his rifle to drag at his horse's mouth. He +was going into that house, if he had to fight his way over every man in +Jackson. By-standers scattered, not because they feared a drunken boy +with a gun, but because just now they stood on their good behavior, and +hesitated to shoot.</p> + +<p>"Let me git at Henry Falkins! Git outen my road!" screamed the boy. His +whole appearance was that of a maniac, and, as he spoke, the Deacon and +his three henchmen came hurrying from the door into the street. Newt did +not see them because his mad course had carried him a few yards beyond +the shack which was his objective, but Black Pete and his allies were +losing no time. As the boy swung himself from his saddle on the far side +of his nag, his eyes still turned inward, he flung himself straight into +the bear-like hug of the Deacon. Before he could struggle free, he was +pinioned by three other pairs of arms, and was a prisoner. Kicking, +biting and bellowing, he was disarmed and carried unceremoniously out +into the street.</p> + +<p>Someone asked contemptuously, "Who is that fool kid?" for Newt had not +been much seen in Jackson since they had taken him down to the state +prison, and to many persons he was still a stranger.</p> + +<p>The boy himself tried to answer, but was silenced by a hand clapped +roughly over his mouth; so he only gurgled and choked.</p> + +<p>"It's only Little Newt Spooner," enlightened the Deacon commiseratingly. +"He's just got drunk, an' ain't hardly responsible. Where's Micah +French?"</p> + +<p>"What air ye 'lowin' ter do with him?" asked a Falkins man, who expected +the lad's kinsmen to make excuses for him, and carry him back to his own +cabin. The Deacon looked up with a glance of grave reproach, as though +the question grieved him.</p> + +<p>"What can we do with him, except put him in the jail-house? He was +breakin' the law, wasn't he? He was threatenin' the peace and quiet, an' +endangerin' human life, wasn't he?"</p> + +<p>It was a timely and popular play. The Deacon had offered to prove his +conversion by his works, and here within the hour was an opportunity +ready to his hand. It was a thing almost unheard of in feud usage, this +turning a relative over to Falkins officers. And yet as greatly as it +strengthened him in the eyes of the public, it carried a tremendous +danger. He could now expect no loyalty from Newt. Newt, if he came to +trial, might be stung into telling what he knew of the Deacon's part in +the murder of old Jake. Still, it was a case for quick decision, and he +did not hesitate. Moreover, Newt in jail would be more amenable to +persuasion than Newt out of jail.</p> + +<p>Falkins men gravely declared that Black Pete was standing up to his +contract, and, since none of the Spooners cared much for "little Newt," +he had small sympathy among his own kindred.</p> + +<p>To the left of Jackson's court-house sits Jackson's "jail-house"—for +the mountaineer would as readily call a court-house a court as a +jail-house a jail. It is a small building of home-baked bricks, and its +windows are low and iron-barred. Just now, it was empty—save for Newt +Spooner. The solitary inmate was not to be released until the Deacon +spoke the word, but there was no intention of bringing him to trial. It +was merely a case of "sobering up" explained the peace-maker, as he +rejoined the street crowd.</p> + +<p>Not until the next day did the Deacon go to the boy there, and when he +went, he went alone.</p> + +<p>"Son," he said sadly, as he looked down on the seated figure, which did +not rise to receive him, "I hated to do you that way worse than I can +tell you. You know why I had to do it, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I knows," accused the boy bitterly, "that ye gits ever'body kilt thet +ye wants kilt, an' I knows thet ye lied ter me an' fooled me. I knows +thet ye've done been a damned traitor."</p> + +<p>"I reckon it does look right smart that way to you, son," acceded the +other. "It can't hardly help seemin' that way—an' yet I was tryin' to +save your life, an' I did save it."</p> + +<p>"I hain't none beholden ter ye fer thet," snorted Newt. "I didn't ask ye +ter save my life. I'd a heap ruther ye'd quit a-meddlin' so damn' much +in my business."</p> + +<p>"But listen, son. A man can afford to look ahead an' bide his time. Just +now, we've got to lay low an' keep quiet. All the Spooners except you +have agreed to do that. You're a young feller with your life ahead of +you, and waitin' a little won't hurt you. You've got to let this Falkins +boy alone for a year. When I talked to you at Winchester, I didn't +rightly know how things stood down here. Give me your hand on that, an' +I'll get you out of here."</p> + +<p>"I won't do hit," snapped the boy, defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Then I guess you'd better stay here a while." The Deacon's voice was +regretful.</p> + +<p>"Ye means thet I kin lie in this jail-house tell I promises ye not ter +hurt Henry Falkins?"</p> + +<p>"Till you promise not to hurt him for a year," amended the other.</p> + +<p>"An' I tells ye you kin everlastin'ly go ter hell!" shouted Newt, his +face working spasmodically under his wrath.</p> + +<p>It would have brought a ray of comfort to Newt, had he known that +Minerva had fought back her disgust for the wild and lawless picture he +had made, and had asked permission to visit him in the jail. She had +wanted to plead with him, as the Deacon had pleaded, though it was not +for a year, but for always, that she would have begged him to bury his +enmity. Perhaps, she thought, if in this hour he felt the hand-clasp of +friendship, he might realize that there are better things than hatred +and the blind service of hatred. But the Deacon thought it best that no +one save himself should talk with Newt. He might tell too much.</p> + +<p>"I'm right sorry," he said, and his eyes were gravely sympathetic; "but +the boy's been drinkin' right smart, an' I reckon it wouldn't hardly be +best for you to see him. No, it wouldn't hardly be wise."</p> + +<p>Three days the Deacon left him there, but on each day he argued at +length and kindly, pointing out that his action was the hard course of +one who could not permit his sympathies to swerve him. Meanwhile, the +prisoner was practically in solitary confinement, for the Falkins jailer +followed the Deacon's directions, and allowed no one else to talk with +him.</p> + +<p>On the third day, Newt capitulated, and, though his promise of twelve +months of forbearance was given under duress, and the Deacon knew he had +incurred an enmity which would be lifelong, he knew, too, that the +promise would be kept. That night Newt rode sullenly to the cabin on +Troublesome, and stabled and fed the nag, and, when he had taken his +place in front of the fire, he sat moodily and in unbroken silence for a +half-hour, and then he looked up, and said shortly,</p> + +<p>"Clem, I reckon I'm a-ready to do my sheer of work on the place. I'll +feed the hawgs in ther mornin'."</p> + +<p>A cold drizzle had come with nightfall; a fire had been built. One by +one, the family "lay down," and from the four corners of the room came +the heavy breathing of their slumber. But Minerva did not at once fall +asleep, and so she knew that far into the night Newt sat gazing into the +dying embers, and she covertly and shyly watched his face, very drawn +and miserable.</p> + +<p>At last, she slipped from the covers, and, coming over, laid a hand on +his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Newt," she said in a low voice, "you're in trouble, boy—and I'm +sorry."</p> + +<p>"Thet's all right, Minervy," he answered, without moving, but into the +surliness of his voice crept a trace of breaking.</p> + +<p>Some day, of course, she must tell him exactly how responsible she had +been for his failure, but just now she could not. He was wretched +because he had not succeeded in repeating the infamy and the crime which +had at first wrecked his life. By every theory of morals and every form +of right-thinking he was beyond the pale of sympathy—and yet—Minerva +Rawlins had in her veins enough of vendetta blood to understand that his +suffering was genuine and that from his one view-point he had defaulted +a debt of honor.</p> + +<p>It was a thing of her doing, a thing which, if need be, she would do +again; but that did not prevent her seeing in the thin, haggard-faced +boy, who watched the embers die to ashes, a creature for whom she could +feel sorrow—even sympathy. Perhaps it was a sympathy too wide in its +scope; but, if so, it was a criticism for which Christ, Lord of broad +sympathies, might, possibly, have felt a leniency.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In the months that followed, Henry Falkins organized and drilled into +some semblance of military form a company of militiamen. His men were +enlisted from Falkins and Falerin territory, and, though he invited the +Spooners to join them, the distance made it impracticable. Henry +believed that by military training these people might be weaned from +lawless intolerance to a rudimentary acceptance of discipline.</p> + +<p>One day, Newt Spooner, having ridden over to Jackson, saw these raw +amateurs going through their manual of arms, and he stood at the side +and sneered contemptuously as he watched. But the Deacon, who watched, +too, did not sneer. With a constant diplomacy Black Pete had +rehabilitated his reputation, and, if any of the Falkins clan still +disbelieved in his sincerity, he was lonely in his scepticism. Men on +both sides ceased to speak of the "truce," and called it by the more +permanent name of "peace." But, reflected the far-sighted Deacon, there +might come an outbreak some day, and then it would be no advantage to +the Spooners to have a hundred Falkinses take to the brush with the +high-power military rifles. It would be just as well, if this militia +idea were a good one, to carry it further. The county should have not +one company—but two. Over in the section where the Spooners held +dominance, the second should be mustered. So, in the course of time, the +Spooner platoons were duly organized and taken into the state guard. The +Deacon himself consented only to become a sergeant. Yet, from the +inception, it was the sergeant, rather than the captain or lieutenant, +who dictated every matter of importance.</p> + +<p>The feeling between the erstwhile enemies had become outwardly so +cordial that a challenge was given and accepted for a competitive drill, +and Newt, who had at first scoffed and then yielded to the lure of the +military, marched with his comrades the little matter of twenty miles to +Jackson, bearing a Springfield rifle and wearing a state uniform.</p> + +<p>He had seen Henry Falkins only once since that Fourth of July, and it +was now October. The hills were ablaze with gold and burgundy and +scarlet. Newt knew that Captain Falkins would not command his company +that day: that he was in fact "down below." Had he not been assured of +this, he would have stayed at home and sulked in the woods.</p> + +<p>He was biding his time. He had neither forgotten nor forgiven.</p> + +<p>And yet, in spite of the black shadows of a life which exalted the +vindictive and scowled on every gracious thing, Newt Spooner felt to-day +the stirring of a new emotion. In this novel game of playing soldier, he +found, rather against his will, an interest that threatened to become an +enthusiasm. For the first time in his lonely life, he began to taste, +with a tang of relish, the pleasures of companionship. These men with +whom he hiked accorded him a rough fellowship. At first, he had been +suspicious and surly, but now, when they called him the "tough kid of +Troublesome," he grinned sheepishly and without resentment. Newt was +waking out of a sleep that had lasted since babyhood and that had been +all nightmare.</p> + +<p>The flaming hills with their veils of violet haze across the distances; +the cheerful rustle of crisp leaves under foot; the whole autumnal gamut +of color and fragrance and spice was softening the world, even to its +hard men of the mountains. They swung their rifles and kits with a +tramp-like slouchiness, and when the noon grew warm they insisted on +hiking with their shirt-tails outside their trousers; but in their +swinging gait was a tireless energy that could walk armory-trained men +off their feet, and then, if called on, go fresh into battle.</p> + +<p>They swung down Jay-bird Creek, and passed the mouth of Fist-fight, and +there, lying above its saw-mill, came to view a bit of landscape as much +out of the picture as though it had been torn from another page of the +geography and pasted there by mistake. At the edge of a town, so +sprawling and ragged that one did not see it until he stumbled upon it +out of a creek-bed gulch, spread the smooth campus of the college.</p> + +<p>But, before they reached that point, the commanding officer halted his +command.</p> + +<p>"Boys," was his informal suggestion, "we're about to pass thet-there +new-fangled college. I reckon we mout es well give them folks a treat. +Let's fall in an' march by there like shore-'nough soldiers."</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner happened to be the file of his four, and as they trailed by +the cheering little group of students, the ex-convict saw "Clem's gal" +leaning on the palings, and though he did not know why, he felt +something akin to pride and excitement, and straightened his shoulders, +and bore his rifle more jauntily. Minerva leaned forward, waving her +sun-bonnet, and called out, "Newt, I hope you boys win," and the lad +marched on, strangely pleased.</p> + +<p>In that picture of men marching in ordered ranks, and wearing the +uniform which denoted service, she thought she saw a long step toward +conversion, and an approach to a better standard, and Minerva, too, felt +a flutter of pleasure as she watched the column disappear around the +curve of the road with its yellow dust-cloud clinging in its wake.</p> + +<p>The militia officer from the bluegrass, who had come to act as umpire, +masked his smile as he judged that contest. Then the amusement died, and +he remembered Napoleon's criterion: "The best soldier is he who can +bivouac shelterless, throughout the year."</p> + +<p>A temporary rifle-range had been established, and in the improvised pit, +with a fifty-year-old sergeant acting as target-marker, sat the officer +from "down below." The mountaineer squatted like a clay effigy on his +heels, and smoked a cob pipe.</p> + +<p>"Sergeant," suggested the officer in a pause, during the overhead +shrieking of rifle-bullets, "in case trouble started down here in the +hills—I mean if soldiers were called out—what do you think these men +would do? Could they be relied on?"</p> + +<p>The mountaineer drew a long puff from his pipe, and smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>"Wall, now, <i>lew</i>-tenant," he drawled thoughtfully, "I'll jest tell ye +ther truth. Ef thar was ter be trouble <i>somewhars else</i> these-here +fellers would be all right; but jest right round hyar—well, I hain't so +plumb shore."</p> + +<p>"Then you think—?" The officer left the question unfinished, and the +target-marker again grinned.</p> + +<p>"I hain't thinkin' nothin' much, but ye kin jedge yerself, <i>lew</i>-tenant, +thet ef a couple of hundred fellers with these-hyar fur-shootin' guns +was ter take ter the brush, thar mout be some hell ter pay fer a spell. +I kinder reckon," he added gravely, "thet, ef things bust loose +hyar-abouts, hit mout be a right-good idee ter take all these fellers up +to Loueyville and lock 'em up in the jail-house thar. It mout be a +right-good idea."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + + +<p>A man whose outlook on life had been broader than Newt's, and whose +brain did not receive constant poisoning from within, would have +softened that fall and winter, because a new influence was working upon +him.</p> + +<p>The influence was Minerva, and the boy found himself, as the splendid +fall died swiftly into the unspeakable desolation of a mountain winter, +counting the days between her visits to the cabin. But of this he said +nothing, and the only evidences he gave to her at first were mute +evidences, and a greater ferocity in suppressing the spirit of nagging +and persecution to which his mother and sister drifted with inevitable +perversity. When the girl returned at Christmas, after a longer absence +than usual, she found, to her astonishment, the contour of the cabin +altered. Newt had thrown against one end an additional room. It was a +simple annex of hewn logs and puncheon floor with a clay-daubed chimney +and no windows, but it was tight-chinked and solidly weather-tight. When +she asked about it, her step-mother sniffed contemptuously that it was +some of "Newty's foolishness." Later, when the boy himself came in and +saw her sitting with the family circle before the fire in the main +cabin, he shuffled his feet clumsily, and seemed unwilling to meet her +eyes. A great embarrassment was on him and he was more diffident in her +presence than he had ever been before. The girl saw it and wondered, +and, when she could do so without attracting too much attention, she +found an opportunity to lead him outside.</p> + +<p>"M'nervy," the boy said shortly, when they were alone, "sence ye've been +a-consortin' with them-thar fotched-on teachers at the school, hit seems +like ye hain't got much use fer us plain folks. I reckon ye're +right-smart ashamed ter acknowledge ter them folks who yore kin air."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Newty!" she exclaimed, with a world of surprise and reproach in her +voice. Her face flamed hotly; for, to the mountain idea, disloyalty to +"kith and kin" is the most unpardonable of offenses. It was the first +time she had ever called him Newty. They were standing out in the icy +air of the door-yard.</p> + +<p>Inside the main cabin, the family huddled before the fire, as +uncommunicative as cattle. The pall of the black squalor had been +tightening about the girl's heart like an impalpable constrictor and +almost strangling it. Outside, the bitter wind lashed her calico skirt +about her slim ankles, and cut like a knife. The boy, who wore no +overcoat, stamped his feet, and thrust his chapped and reddened hands +into his threadbare pockets.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Newty," she expostulated again indignantly, "I thought ye knew me +better then ter accuse me of bein' ashamed of my own folks!"</p> + +<p>"They hain't your'n," snorted the lad in a queer, hard voice. "Thet is, +none of 'em hain't your'n barrin' yore pap. I hain't sayin' nothin' +'gainst Clem ter ye, cause ye're his gal; but the rest on 'em is my +folks and I reckon I kin say what I likes. I hain't never had a friend +in this house twell ye came hyar. I've sot in thar night atter night an' +listened at thet old man a-ravin' an' a cussin' twell, ef he wasn't my +great-gran'pap, I'd hev choked him. I hear'n them women folks a-pickin' +on ye an' a pesterin' ye, an' I knows ye'd shake the dirt of this place +offen yore feet an' quit hit for good, ef hit warn't thet ye 'lows they +needs ye. Ye had ought ter do hit, M'nervy. Nobody wouldn't blame ye."</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head. The moon had peeped over the shoulder of a +sugar-loaf peak, and flooded the world in cobalt. The stark sycamores +along the creek-bank rose gaunt and gray, and the ragged picket fence +and stile and barn were black etchings against the frosted hills. On the +boy's face the silver light showed a tracery of bitterness and +weariness. To Minerva it ceased to be the face of an ex-convict and a +vindictive criminal. It was only the rather thin and wizened visage of a +prematurely aged boy, who had, in his wild-animal sort of way, +undertaken to be her champion. He had undertaken it much as the dog with +a name for ferocity might indicate its devotion to someone whose hand +had not been afraid to caress its unlovely muzzle. She impulsively +stretched out her hand and laid it on his coat-sleeve, and his arm +shook, not alone with the cold, but with a strange new agitation under +a touch of kindness.</p> + +<p>"Newty," she said softly, "why don't you shake the dirt of this place +offen your feet?" Her talk mixed up strangely mountain vernacular and +the more correct form of speech which they had striven to teach her, at +the school.</p> + +<p>Newt only looked at her with a short laugh.</p> + +<p>"Whar'd I go?" he demanded fiercely. "What do I know? What could I do? +This is whar I b'longs." With a contemptuous jerk of his head toward the +cabin, he added: "Them's my kind o' folks. I was born amongst 'em, an' I +hain't been nowhars else except ther penitentiary."</p> + +<p>It was on the point of her tongue to remind him that he had been to +school; that he could read and write, and was young and strong, and that +all the world lay open to him, but she waited. If she was to influence +him, she must go slowly and guardedly. So, instead, she asked a question +about the thing of which he had wanted to speak and concerning which he +found himself suddenly tongue-tied.</p> + +<p>"What's the new room, Newty?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, hell!" ejaculated the boy with a sudden rush of color that even the +moonlight failed to hide. "Damned ef I didn't plumb fergit hit!" That +was a lie, for he had not forgotten, only he had been too bashful to +speak. Now he led her over and opened the door.</p> + +<p>A fire was roaring inside on the hearth. The place was unfurnished +except for a chair, a bed and a table, all home-made, but all clean and +soundly carpentered. In the Frankfort prison, Newt had worked in the +chair-factory.</p> + +<p>"Ye see, M'nervy," he went on, floundering for words, "ye see, I hain't +had nothin' much ter do round hyar, an' I thought hit mout kill some +time ter sort of build this-hyar contraption. I 'lowed ye mout be a +little more satisfied ef ye had a room of yore own, whar ye could go to, +an' put ther bar acrost the door, when them women folks pestered ye, an' +tell 'em ter go ter hell."</p> + +<p>As the girl looked about the place—all her own—tears came welling to +her eyes. How could this boy—more nearly a wild beast than any other +human creature she had ever known—have had the delicacy to understand +that longing for privacy and self-withdrawal which at times had almost +maddened her with its intensity? She sank down in the one chair and sat +with the flames playing on her face and lighting the tears that flowed +noiselessly, and, when she looked up to thank her champion, he was +gazing down on her with a face set in a mask-like tautness,—less it +betray emotion of which he was ashamed.</p> + +<p>But he had not missed the tears in her eyes and he knew that his humble +service had moved her. Suddenly he knew something else. It was not only +because she had been less unpleasant than the other members of the +household that he had missed her when she went away and had looked +forward to her home-coming. He had set up his shrine to hatred of +mankind. His experience had taught him much of enmity and little of +love. He knew in an impersonal fashion that men had sweethearts and went +"sparking" with girls, but for all this sort of thing he had retained in +his young manhood the same sort of contempt which most boys pass through +and out-grow in earlier life.</p> + +<p>Now, he stood there before the roar of the fire on the hearth that he +had built and watched the shadows retreat into the corners of the room. +He saw Minerva sitting with her eyes still pensive and her lips still +smiling, and the flames awakening soft color on her cheeks and mahogany +glints in her hair.</p> + +<p>She was beautiful. To a more discerning eye that would have long ago +been apparent, but until now beauty had meant nothing to Newt Spooner. +It had not existed.</p> + +<p>So, with the stunning effect of light breaking on eyes that have been +sightless, the young man in the frayed and drab homespun, whose brain +had been even more colorless and somber than his clothes, felt a wild +hunger to take her in his arms and claim her for his own. That this +thing had been growing in his mind, unrealized until this moment, he did +not suspect. That it was much less sudden than it seemed, he did not +understand. He knew only that he, Newt Spooner, vassal to hate, was now +in love, and, as he acknowledged it to himself, his face became drawn +and pale, and his hands clenched themselves, for with the +self-confession came utter despair.</p> + +<p>She sat there in the chair he had made, by the hearth he had reared, in +the room he had built—and the work had been that of a good craftsman +because they had compelled him to learn in the penitentiary. Outside the +winds were screaming about the roof-slabs he had nailed down. She was so +close that he could put out his hand and touch her—and because now he +wanted her beyond everything, even beyond the life of the man who had +ruined his life, it was terribly clear that she could never be close to +him except in such physical proximity as that of this moment.</p> + +<p>The ex-convict was not accustomed to thought. In its stead, he had +substituted brooding. Thought is hard and tinged with torture for the +brain that has not been reflective. Yet now he must think.</p> + +<p>Minerva had been to the college. She yearned for even a greater degree +of education. He had built this room because he understood how she +shrank from the squalid and unclean life of the mountain cabin—and in +all the mountains was no more squalid creature than himself. She +despised the idea of blood-reprisal, and to forego that would, by his +standards, mean a baser surrender than for a priest to repudiate his +cloth.</p> + +<p>He was ignorant, penniless, vindictive. She was, to his thinking, +learned, fastidious and pledged to the new "fotched-on" order.</p> + +<p>Should he tell her that he loved her, provided he could imagine his +stoic lips shaping such phrases, she could only be offended and +distressed. He must not tell her. That one thing seemed certain, and, +as he stood there, masking the storm in his thin breast under a +scowling visage of tightly compressed lips and drawn brow, he was being +racked by a yearning greater than he had ever known or imagined.</p> + +<p>How long he remained rigid and silent he did not know, but at last he +heard her voice, speaking very softly:</p> + +<p>"Newty, you have been very good to me. You did all this for me—and yet +even you don't know how much it means to me."</p> + +<p>"Hit warn't nothin'," he answered in a dead voice. Then, having resolved +not to betray himself, he found himself crying out to his own surprise, +in a tumult of fierce and passionate feeling: "I'd go plumb down inter +hell, fer ye, M'nervy."</p> + +<p>The girl looked up, then she rose unsteadily, and laid a hand on his +arm. Her eyes were gazing very fixedly into his, and she spoke eagerly:</p> + +<p>"You say you'd do that—for me. Do something else, Newty. Come—out of a +life that's not much better than hell—for me."</p> + +<p>He spoke quietly again, though under her finger-touch his arm shook as +if it were suddenly palsied:</p> + +<p>"I don't jest plumb understand ye."</p> + +<p>"Give it all up, Newty." She was talking excitedly, and her words came +fast. "Give up this idea of vengeance. It's all wrong and mistaken—and +wicked. It hurts you most of all. You said out there to-night that this +was the only life you ever knew—"</p> + +<p>"This an' ther penitenshery," he corrected her; and a harsh note stole +into the words as he uttered them.</p> + +<p>"There are other lives you can know. Can't you forego this idea of +vengeance? Can't you forget it?"</p> + +<p>The man gave a short and hollow laugh.</p> + +<p>"I reckon so," he answered. Then, as his eyes flashed wildly, his +utterance rose and snapped out the remainder of his response. "When +Henry Falkins is dead an' buried—damn him!"</p> + +<p>Minerva stood looking into the face that was close to her own. It was a +face branded and stamped with so fierce a vindictiveness that she +realized the hopelessness of argument. It would have been as easy to +persuade a maniac to become sane by asking him to lay aside his lunacy. +She turned and dropped into her chair, then, looking straight ahead at +the blazing logs, she went on, holding her voice steady and even:</p> + +<p>"When you were in jail, Newty—at Jackson—I tried to see you. But +they—they wouldn't let me."</p> + +<p>The bitterness left his eyes, and he bent suddenly forward.</p> + +<p>"Ye tried ter see me—in ther jail-house? What fer did ye do thet?"</p> + +<p>"I wanted to tell you, I was sorry—and to beg you to give up—your +idea. I didn't know until that day that you were nursing a +grudge—against Mr. Falkins."</p> + +<p>For a while, Newt stood silent. Finally, he said curtly:</p> + +<p>"I'm obleeged ter ye."</p> + +<p>"But that isn't all, Newt." Minerva's hands were clasped in her lap, and +the fingers twined themselves nervously and tightened as she went on. +"I've got to tell you all of it. I heard that morning—what you aimed to +do—and I went to Jackson—to warn him."</p> + +<p>The mountaineer drew back, and over his pale face passed a paroxysm of +bitterness, which at first left him wordless. His posture grew rigid, +and, if Minerva Rawlins had been capable of physical fear, she would +have felt it then, because she was looking into eyes burning with the +fire of mono-mania. But, at last, he spoke in the same dead voice, and +only to ask a question:</p> + +<p>"How did ye know? Who betrayed me?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you that. I knew that, if you succeeded, you would ruin +your life—as well as end his. You are bound to see sometime that all +this idea of a man's being his own judge and jury and executioner is +wicked, and then—if you had succeeded—" She raised her hands in a +despairing gesture, and broke off.</p> + +<p>Once more the boy had become stiff in his attitude, and his face seemed +a gargoyle of hatred.</p> + +<p>"Ef I'm goin' ter be so plumb miserable erbout hit," he said slowly, "I +mout as well suffer fer a couple as fer one. Who war hit thet betrayed +me?"</p> + +<p>Minerva shook her head.</p> + +<p>"You think of Henry Falkins as your bitter enemy. He isn't, Newt. He's +not any man's enemy. Only he has lived in the civilized world as well as +here, and he knows that a system that's built on murder is wrong. You +know only the Henry Falkins that you've imagined. I know how terrible it +must have been down there—at Frankfort.... I know that you had little +else to think about.... But just for that very reason you can't trust +the ideas that came to you down there. The real Henry Falkins isn't the +man you think."</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner took two slow steps, and stood before her. As he +half-turned, the fire fell on one side of his face, gleaming yellow and +vermilion on the gaunt angle of his jaw and chin, and kindling the other +and more baleful fire in his pupils. He talked in a monotone, and, as he +talked, the girl seemed to see a spirit dying in darkness and +confinement, as a potted plant might die in a cellar.</p> + +<p>"Ye says I didn't hev nothin' ter do down thar in ther peniten'shery but +ter study over false notions. Mebby ye're right, but I've done studied +hit all out—an' I've got 'em settled. I reckon ye hain't got no proper +idee of what a feller gits down thar in them damned stone walls, with +stripes on his clothes an' no decent air ter breathe an' no water ter +drink outen a runnin' spring-branch. Hev ye ever tried ter raise a young +hawk in a bird-cage, an' watched hit sicken an' die? They aims ter +reform fellers down thar. Well, jest watch an' see how good they've +reformed me." It was the longest speech she had ever heard him make, +but he was not through yet, and she did not interrupt. "Who sent me +thar? This Henry Falkins thet ye're braggin' about. Why did he do hit? +Out of the sneekin' meanness of his heart. War I ther fust feller +hyar-abouts thet ever kilt anybody? Why didn't ther rest of 'em go down +thar? Hit war because I war a kid thet didn't know no better then ter do +what I war bid, an' because them what bid me didn't stand behind me." He +paused and wiped his forehead on his coat-sleeve. "I didn't 'low thet +thar war anybody in ther world a feller could trust. Then I came back +hyar. I found my pappy dead, an' my ma married ergin, an' my rifle-gun +sold.... Then—" His words ended in a sort of wretched gasp.</p> + +<p>"Then you came hyar. I reckon I'd ought to hev knowed better by this +time then ter be beguiled, but I 'lowed I could trust you. Ye war ther +one body in ther world I'd 'a' swore by ... an' ye rid over thar an' +warned him, an' hed me throwed inter ther jail-house."</p> + +<p>He drew his shoulders back and turned slowly, starting toward the door; +but, with his hand on the latch, he paused, and added with cold +bitterness:</p> + +<p>"Ye've done succeeded in a-balkin' me oncet, M'nervy; but ye've done +'complished another thing besides thet. I only aimed ter kill Henry +Falkins oncet, but atter what ye've told me, ef thar war a way under +God's sun ter do hit—I'd kill him twicet."</p> + +<p>The girl rose and came over, and her hands fell on the boy's arm.</p> + +<p>"Newty," she pleaded with tears of desperation in her eyes. "Newty, you +must try to understand me. It was for you as much as for him. It would +have ruined your life. Besides, you misunderstand him—"</p> + +<p>The young man shook her hands roughly away.</p> + +<p>"I reckon my life's done been ruint a'ready," he declared. Then, with an +up-leaping voice, he demanded as he fiercely caught her fore-arms in an +iron grasp: "Ye says I don't understand Henry Falkins. What does ye know +about him beyond what I knows?" The jealousy that rang through the +question was the only declaration of love he had ever made to her, and +his fingers unconsciously bit into her arms until they ached.</p> + +<p>"He came down to the school," she said faintly, "and he gave me this +medal because I had—I had tried to study hard."</p> + +<p>She had succeeded in withdrawing her hands, and groped at her throat for +the small metal disc, which she held out to him. But he drew back, his +eyes gleaming venomously.</p> + +<p>"I'd ruther tech a rattle-snake," he declared in a voice which she +hardly recognized, "then ter lay hands on anything thet damned dog hed +teched." She stood dazed, and he went on in the high-timbered shrillness +of excitement: "Some day I'm a-goin' to have a reckonin' with thet +feller, an', when I gits through, he won't go roun' givin' medals to no +other gals." He wheeled and stamped out of the room, and the girl did +not know that for hours he tramped the snowy woods of the mountainsides, +cursing under his breath, and redoubling his oath of reprisal.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>News from the outside world percolates slowly into the quarantine of the +beleaguered hills. A fever that rushes hotly through the arteries of the +nation from sea to sea, is hardly a flush to the country that leads its +own isolated life. From Washington to 'Frisco, men were gathering at +bulletin boards and clinging with hot excitement to the latest word of +tidings. In city armories, militiamen were inspecting kits and drilling +overtime. The <i>Maine</i> had been blown up in Havana harbor. The war fever +was burning thousands into fitful patriotism, but back there in the +Cumberland mountains, where men scarcely knew who was President of the +United States, life was going more placidly than usual. The war which +this country knew most about had waned into a two-years' truce. Less +than for two decades was there thought of fighting and blood-letting. +One day, Newt met a trader riding a spent mule through the mired roads +with a newspaper protruding from his splattered saddle-bags.</p> + +<p>"I reckon you soldiers'll get a chance ter sashay out an' show what's in +ye now," said the trader with a grin, as though he found the idea highly +humorous.</p> + +<p>"What does ye mean?" demanded the boy, resting on his grounded rifle and +fixing the other with steady, incurious eyes. "Hes the Falkinses busted +the truce?"</p> + +<p>The trader laughed.</p> + +<p>"Wuss then thet. This country's a-goin' ter declare war on Spain." He +made the announcement with the superior air of one in touch with large +and distant affairs.</p> + +<p>"Who's Spain?" Newt Spooner put the question gravely and with no sense +of betraying untoward ignorance. In the log school-house years ago he +might have been told the answer to that question, but such matters had +since then escaped his attention.</p> + +<p>"Spain," enlightened the trader, whose geographical ideas had also until +recently been vague, "is a country in ther other world—you has to go +acrost the ocean ter git thar."</p> + +<p>"Who lives thar?" inquired the lad.</p> + +<p>"Hit's a country of outlanders."</p> + +<p>Newt stood for a moment gazing across the dreary wastes of broken +ridges.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said calmly, "I reckon we kin go over thar an' lick 'em, ef +need be."</p> + +<p>But, if the fever came slowly to the hills, it infected the men of the +two new companies thoroughly enough when it did come. So far, each +organization was drilling in its own territory, and, when the boy +thought of Henry Falkins, it was not in connection with the war with +Spain, but as the principal enemy in another war. On the lintel of the +cabin door was a series of notches cut by his pocket-knife. Each month +he added a fresh one at the end of the line. When he had cut twelve, he +would have complied with his promise to the Deacon, and would once more +tramp across the mountains on the mission which had been too often +thwarted. Already there were seven of these cryptic reminders, and in a +few days more the eighth would be added.</p> + +<p>Minerva came and went, and Newt at first spoke to her as little as +possible; but, when the other women of the family nagged her, he rose +fiercely to her defense. The girl sought by gentleness and diplomacy to +win him back to open friendship, but he held sullenly aloof.</p> + +<p>At last, she said:</p> + +<p>"Newty, can't we be friends again? Even if you can't understand what I +did, can't you believe me when I say I did it as much for you as for +him?"</p> + +<p>He stood twisting his brogan toe in the hard-tramped dirt of the cabin +yard. His face was expressionless. He looked at her, and turned away his +face, while over it went a spasm of pain.</p> + +<p>"I reckons what ye did appeared right ter ye, M'nervy," he generously +acceded. "I reckon I've got more quarrel with them new-fangled notions +they l'arns ye down thar at ther college then what I hev with you. They +aimed ter l'arn me them same things at ther penitenshery—but I wasn't +ter be corrupted. But all I kin see is thet ye warned my enemy, an' thet +ye made common cause with him ergin me."</p> + +<p>On the fourth of next July, Newt was going to have a celebration all +his own. In his "marked-down" enemy, Newt saw a man whom he had never +injured and who had, with smug hypocrisy, attacked him in a cowardly +manner and made a felon of him. In his diseased imagination he pictured +Falkins gloating over this triumph. That score he meant to settle. It +was simple and immutable.</p> + +<p>Then came the day when once more the company from Troublesome hiked +across the hills to Jackson. Once more the college students were drawn +up at the palings to see them pass. Again they marched raggedly, but +their faces, instead of being good-humored and full of frolic, were +serious now. They were leaving the only country they had ever known. +They were going to cross the ocean, and invade a land as foreign to +their conceptions and ken as a continent on Mars.</p> + +<p>Minerva Rawlins was leaning across the fence, and, as Newt passed her, +he caught once more the flutter of her handkerchief. There was no +leave-taking, and she did not know that, as he left the cabin that +morning, his last words had been a warning to his mother and sister, +that, if they "pestered Clem's gal" while he was away, he would hold +them strictly to account on his return.</p> + +<p>At the railroad station in Jackson, the outfit was joined by the other +company; but, as Newt stood on the platform, his eyes somberly searching +the space where the men were gathered, he sought vainly for the figure +of Henry Falkins. At last, a corporal told him that the first +lieutenant was in command, and Newt made no audible comment. But to +himself he said:</p> + +<p>"I reckon the damn' coward was skeered ter come along. He kain't fight +Spain in no witness-cheer."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + + +<p>When the two companies from the hills entrained that raw morning they +had no idea where they were going or what prospects lay ahead, but they +conceived days of action, and fell upon months of dull routine. The +mountaineer is restive under discipline and passionate in his insistence +on personal liberty. He bristles at a curt command. It irks his soul to +raise the right hand in salute when he passes another whose leggings are +of leather instead of canvas and whose shoulders are decorated with +certain insignia. To say "sir" in addressing a superior, or to admit any +form of superiority, is a harder thing than to march on short rations, +for a voice within is always making declaration, "I'm jest as good as +any man."</p> + +<p>So, the mountain companies did not at once fall into ordered and +frictionless assimilation in the big military machine—did not at once +become anonymous units. Yet even in the feud, men acknowledged the +necessity, when need arose, of sinking the personal grievance in +obedience to the clan requirement. With officers who failed to +understand them and who had not been willing to make haste slowly, they +would have become a mob of constant mutineers. But they were a part of a +regiment whose peace-footing was two battalions, and whose colonel, +though a bluegrass Kentuckian, understood and loved highland and lowland +alike. The two Breathitt county companies with another that had marched +forty-five miles from over near the Virginia line to entrain, made up +one battalion, while the other was from the edge of the bluegrass. When +he joined his bearded barbarians at Chickamauga, Colonel Burford smiled +happily. To him they were big-boned children, but he nursed them along +and taught them that the swift, military obedience asked of them was not +a concession to individuals, but to abstract efficiency, and that this +efficiency was their own chief interest. So, they came with astounding +haste into a full acceptance of the necessity. They were still raw and +looked like half-barbaric allies from the hinterland—as they were. They +wore their shirt-tails out like Chinamen on the long and dusty hikes, +and their service hats tilted at a dozen disreputable angles. They still +bantered each other in quaint Elizabethan English drawled in nasal +tones, but also they watched with keen, unblinking eyes the machine-like +evenness of the regulars, which it became their care, with swift +absorption, to imitate. They were the Second battalion of the Fifth +Kentucky, but they were better known as the "Shirt-tail battalion," and +their far-seeing colonel seemed, on the whole, contented with them.</p> + +<p>When other commands complained and sulked in the Georgia climate, and +crowded the hospitals, these mountaineers throve and said nothing. To +them the army ration was an improvement over their accustomed fare. On +kitchen detail they scowled, but served with stoicism—though "sich-like +was women's work"—and, when they went out as provost guardsmen to round +up the recalcitrant, they brought back their prisoners with +business-like despatch. Though they were seeing a new life, every detail +of which was wonderful to them, no sign or exclamation of surprise +escaped their bearded lips. The Kentucky mountaineer might walk through +the Champs Elysées of Paris, battered, threadbare and ignorant, but he +would carry his head high and gaze straight at every man, eye to eye, +giving no indication that any sight was new or unaccustomed.</p> + +<p>Out on the target-range a detachment was at work one day mastering the +problems of long-range fire with sadly inefficient rifles. It was +shortly after their arrival at Chickamauga, and Newt Spooner had just +fallen back, his Springfield still smoking with the black powder of its +discharge. He had scored a "bull," and his thin lips were gravely +pleased. Over the sultry area of the mobilization camp went the roar and +activity of war-preparation. Newly commissioned staff officers galloped +importantly from headquarters to headquarters. Mule trains and +commissariat-wagons rumbled noisily under yellow clouds of following +dust. Lines upon lines of company streets stretched away in a spread of +canvas with the locales of commands marked by brigade and regimental +colors; brazen mingling of shouts and bugles set to it its accompaniment +of sound.</p> + +<p>As Newt Spooner walked back, throwing open the breach of his piece, his +eyes fell on a new figure, which wore its uniform with as soldierly a +jauntiness as though it had never been accustomed to "cits." The face +was already bronzed, and the gauntleted hands rested on the saber-belt. +The man was Henry Falkins, and on his shoulder-straps and +collar-ornaments were not the twin bars of a captain, but the oak leaves +of a major.</p> + +<p>Newt, falling back toward the little group of his fellows who sat +cross-legged in the meager shadow of a tent-flap, halted suddenly and +stood for a moment transfixed. Then his hand stole to his +ammunition-belt, and toyed there with a cartridge. His face paled and +hardened. So, after all, his enemy had not stayed at home.</p> + +<p>Falkins looked up, and saw the soldier. He saw the attitude, and the +venomous hatred of the narrowed eyes, and the itching twitch of the +fingers at the cartridge-belt, and he knew then that his most dangerous +enemy would not be always at his front. But he nodded to the boy, and +said casually:</p> + +<p>"Spooner, that last shot was a neat one."</p> + +<p>The private did not answer. He did not salute, he did not move. He only +stood and glared. Henry Falkins turned his back on the potential +assassin, and strolled deliberately away. But the Deacon, now +"top-Sergeant" of B Company came over to the boy—who had taken one step +as if to follow Falkins—and stepped between.</p> + +<p>"Son," he said in a low voice, while his eyes were very steady and +quieting in their hypnotic quality, "your year ain't up yet—not by +several months. I reckon until the fourth of next July, you'd better not +let your face give you away like that. It's bad business in the army."</p> + +<p>The boy fell suddenly trembling with the reaction of his temptation. For +an instant, forgetful of his pledge, he had fully meant to shoot. Now, +he turned and walked back toward the group of seated comrades. After a +while, he inquired in a normal voice:</p> + +<p>"What's Henry Falkins a-doin' with them major's leaves on his +shoulder-straps? He hain't nothin' but captain of A Company. I thought +he'd done stayed at home."</p> + +<p>"He got here yesterday," enlightened the first sergeant. "He was sent +away about something, an' he wears a major's straps because he's +commandin' this battalion."</p> + +<p>"Ye mean"—Newt leaned passionately forward, and, in his bared +fore-arms, the muscles stood out corded—"ye mean thet Henry Falkins is +a-bossin' <i>us</i>?"</p> + +<p>The Deacon nodded. Then he added, in a carefully lowered voice:</p> + +<p>"Bide your time, son. It'll keep, an' we've got Spain on our hands +first."</p> + +<p>But the weeks passed, and the Shirt-tail battalion was no nearer Cuba, +though it was much nearer efficiency for the field. Other commands left +for Tampa and the front. Seemingly forgotten, regiments and brigades +drilled and waited and fretted at Chickamauga until disgust came in the +stead of ardor and hope of active service languished, and the +mountaineers alone remained patient.</p> + +<p>The Deacon was cut out for handling men, and was winning the name of an +unusually efficient top-sergeant. With his experience in the outside +world, he seemed a wise and capable shepherd going in and out among his +sheep.</p> + +<p>At last came orders. The command was to move, but instead of moving +toward Tampa and Cuba, where the fighting had been, it was to take train +across the continent, and join other waiting thousands at San Francisco, +remote from the theater of war. The bluegrass troops grumbled afresh, +but the men from the mountains kept their peace. They had not enlisted +for any particular type of service. The President of the United States +had called for men—and they had answered. It was up to the President.</p> + +<p>That journey across the continent, across endless prairies and flat +plains and into strange surroundings was also a revelation to Newt and +his fellows, but they gazed out of the car windows with as little +outward evidence of interest as cattle being shipped in box-cars.</p> + +<p>And from early June until late in October they sat down and waited at +Camp Meritt and the Presidio, drilling and being whipped into shape +until it seemed to them that military life was the only life they had +known. And between June and October falls the month of July, and in the +month of July comes the fourth.</p> + +<p>Over Private Newt Spooner's cot in his tent hung a calendar. Each day he +carefully marked off a number, and, as he kept track of the time, a +strange sort of contentment appeared to descend upon his soul. He +studied his drill-manual, threw himself into the life of soldiering, and +presented to the world a face less grim and lowering. He was pointed out +as a smart, well set-up file.</p> + +<p>But beside Private Job Wedgesley, his bunkie, another man in the company +had an eye on Private Spooner. At times, when the soldier did not know +of it, the top-sergeant of the outfit strolled in and noted the calendar +on which the passing of each day was so faithfully recorded, and the +brain of the top-sergeant dedicated itself to cogitation. On the night +of the third, Sergeant Peter Spooner asked and was given permission to +speak privately with his major.</p> + +<p>The tall grave figure with the thoughtful eyes and the chevroned sleeve +was a picture of soldierly deportment, and, as he came into the tent of +Major Henry Falkins and stood respectfully at attention, the battalion +commander looked up, with a pleased smile.</p> + +<p>"I have the captain's permission to speak to the major, sir," announced +the infantry-man.</p> + +<p>Falkins nodded.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow is the Fourth of July, sir."</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is to be a parade in town. Have your men tuck their +shirt-tails in." The major smiled at his little pleasantry. The +mountaineers had long since abandoned their more exaggerated +idiosyncracies.</p> + +<p>"It is concerning Private Newton Spooner, sir, that I want to speak."</p> + +<p>"What about him?"</p> + +<p>The Deacon told his story. He was shrewd enough to tell it with seeming +frankness, even to the point of admitting that on that other day, now a +year ago, he had bound Newt over for twelve months of truce. That period +ended to-morrow. He spoke of the calendar in the private's tent, and +Falkins' face darkened thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Don't you imagine he has forgotten that grudge?" questioned the +officer. On the table before him lay an unfinished letter to a girl in +Winchester. He had boasted in a paragraph of which the ink was still +damp that his militia experiment had succeeded.</p> + +<p>"He has not forgotten it, sir. He has not changed it." The Deacon shook +his head with conviction as he spoke. "You're a mountain man yourself, +sir. Did you ever know a mountain hatred to die while the man himself +lived to harbor it? Did you ever make a pet of a rattle-snake?"</p> + +<p>The major was sitting at his camp table, littered with papers and +paraphernalia. A swinging lantern cast its yellow flare on the canvas +flies and his side arms, lying with his discarded blouse on his cot. +Just inside the opening stood the sergeant, seeming rather gigantic +against the black background of the night sky through the triangle of +the raised tent flap.</p> + +<p>"I don't like to admit that." Falkins picked up the pen, and toyed with +it absently. "I'm rather eager to see this boy make good. You are a +mountain man, too. Your record for feud-hatred and homicide was once a +rather full one, yet you came back to the hills, declaring for peace. +Isn't the change in yourself permanent, sergeant?"</p> + +<p>Falkins had made the personal application as an illustration and he made +it smilingly; but the Deacon's face wore for a moment an expression of +deep pain.</p> + +<p>"I hope, sir," he replied respectfully, "that my record speaks for +itself. But I had been living in the outside world. He has known only +the mountains—and prison."</p> + +<p>"And now he knows the army!" The officer spoke eagerly. "The service is +stronger than the individual. It will grip him. If we can arouse his +ambition—"</p> + +<p>"It won't help to make mistakes, sir. To-morrow Private Newton Spooner +becomes a menace to your life. Until midnight to-night you are safe."</p> + +<p>For a while there was silence, then Major Falkins took up his pen again.</p> + +<p>"Sergeant," he said, "to-morrow morning after inspection send Private +Spooner to my tent."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." The Deacon saluted, turned with the precision of an +automaton and left the place.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Immediately after inspection on the next morning, a private appeared at +the fly on Major Falkins' tent. The private was of course unarmed. His +top-sergeant had seen to that, even though the soldier had +surreptitiously sought to slip a revolver inside his army shirt.</p> + +<p>As Newt Spooner presented himself, Henry Falkins was sitting on the edge +of his cot. He was already in dress-uniform for the parade, and wore +side arms. He glanced up, and nothing in the demeanor of the private +escaped him.</p> + +<p>For Newt stood at the tent-opening, as white as a ghost, and, despite +his lately learned military bearing, there was the hint of a tremor +through his entire body. It was evident that last night had brought +little sleep to the eyes of this man. His hands were tight-clenched at +his trouser seams, and deep back in his eyes burned a fire that was +hardly sane. Yet Major Falkins was in part right. The sinew of the +service is stronger than its atoms, and, as Private Spooner of B Company +waited with clenched teeth, his hand rose automatically, though rigidly, +in the prescribed salute.</p> + +<p>"The first sergeant ordered me to report to ye," he announced in a +queerly strained voice. At the "sir" he balked, but the officer was not +inclined to quarrel over such details. He knew that however insane and +morbid was the fixed idea in the soldier's mind, it was to himself a +thing of ghastly reality.</p> + +<p>"Spooner," said the officer quietly, "for the next ten minutes I waive +all matter of rank. I sent for you to talk to you, not as Private +Spooner of B Company, but as Newt Spooner of Troublesome Creek. To-day +is the Fourth of July."</p> + +<p>The boy took a step forward and his lips showed the teeth under them.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I hain't a-forgettin' thet," he snarled in a half-whisper. "I +reckon thar hain't been a day I hain't a-counted."</p> + +<p>Falkins nodded with disconcerting calmness.</p> + +<p>"Now, Newt," he said shortly, "I am told you have taken a blood-oath +against me. Is that true?"</p> + +<p>"Ef thar's a God in heaven he knows hit's true, an' I warns ye"—the +boy's cheeks flamed with a wild rush of blood to the temples—"I warns +ye that I'm a-goin' ter keep hit. I've done been stopped three times. +Next time all hell hain't a-goin' ter stop me."</p> + +<p>"What's the idea? What's the reason?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon ye knows thet well enough."</p> + +<p>"I know that I testified to facts—true facts, not perjury. I should +have had to do the same thing if it had been my own brother who was on +trial."</p> + +<p>"Like hell ye would!" In the boy's exclamation was supreme scorn and +repudiation of a lying excuse.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to argue with you and I'm not going to have traitors in +my command. If you remain in my battalion from this point on, it's +because I permit you to do it. I can have you transferred or +bob-tailed. I don't want to do either. You have made a good soldier. I +don't want to ruin you for a personal reason."</p> + +<p>"Do ye reckon," the private's voice broke out like an explosion, "thet +ye kin buy me off with fair talk thet-a-way? Ye couldn't do hit ef ye +made me a major-general."</p> + +<p>Falkins smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>"Why should I buy you off?" he inquired. "Do you imagine I am afraid of +you?"</p> + +<p>He rose abruptly from the cot, and, as his enemy stood twitching +frenziedly in every feature and muscle, unbuckled his belt and tossed it +with its saber and revolver to the table half-way between them.</p> + +<p>"There," curtly announced the commissioned officer, "you are as close to +that gun as I am. Why don't you pick it up?"</p> + +<p>With a snarl like an unleashed wild-cat and a swift noiseless movement, +Private Newt Spooner leaped forward. His eyes were still burning into +the face of his superior and his right hand crept out slowly until its +fingers had caressingly touched and closed around the grip of the +service pistol.</p> + +<p>Then, in a forward-leaning and strained attitude, he paused and stood +statuesquely holding the pose.</p> + +<p>Falkins had put his arms at his back and stepped forward until the two +were directly across the table, then the officer suggested quietly,</p> + +<p>"You'd better hurry. We'll be interrupted."</p> + +<p>For a moment, neither moved nor spoke. The private's breath came and +went in gasps.</p> + +<p>Slowly Newt Spooner shook his head and withdrew his hand from his +weapon. The joy had gone out of his enterprise. His victim had not +suffered any terror or sense of defeat. It was not as he had pictured +it. Whether he shot or did not shoot, Major Henry Falkins would be the +victor of that encounter. He straightened up again, and spoke slowly and +in bitterness:</p> + +<p>"You penitentiaried me—an' ye thought ye had me thar fer life. Now, +when ye've got things fixed jest ter suit ye, ye makes a big play when +ye knows I hain't a-goin' ter take ye up. I hates ye wuss then +pizen—an' I'm a-goin' ter kill ye, but I'm a-goin' ter pick my own time +an' place. Damn ye ter hell! I hain't give up my notion. I'm goin' ter +git ye—but not now."</p> + +<p>"All right." Falkins again buckled on his belt. "When this war is over, +we can settle our affairs. As long as you are in my command, your +military duties come first. Is that agreed?"</p> + +<p>"I hain't makin' no promises. I may git ye in a year. I may git ye in a +month. I'd ruther hev ye jest study erbout thet."</p> + +<p>"Spooner, you are a fool." The officer spoke rather contemptuously. "You +have sworn to two oaths. One is personal; the other is national. You +swore, when you were mustered in, to fight the battles of your country. +Now you are either going to keep that oath, or leave the service. Which +is it to be?"</p> + +<p>"Hit 'pears like thar hain't a-goin' ter be no battles ter fight."</p> + +<p>"All right. Give me your hand that until we are mustered out, or reach +the front, I need not watch you."</p> + +<p>For a long while, the boy from Troublesome stood breathing heavily. To +have his regiment sail away without him, to lose both revenge and +participation in the service which had filled his life with a new +interest, were intolerable. Again he seemed thwarted.</p> + +<p>"Henry Falkins, I'm a-goin' ter git ye. Ye kain't never make no peace +with me—but es long as we stays hyar in camp I gives ye my hand on a +truce. An' ef we gits fightin', maybe I'll wait tell ther war's over." +Into his tone crept the death-note of finality. "But some day I'm +a-goin' ter git ye."</p> + +<p>"That's all," pronounced the major briefly. "Report to your sergeant."</p> + +<p>The boy from Troublesome saluted stiffly and left the tent.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + + +<p>It was not until summer waned to autumn and autumn passed into winter +that the order came which slipped the leash and brought a day of +departure.</p> + +<p>The high-landers wore the appearance of veterans now, as they marched +down to the crowded wharves, loaded with their field-equipment, and went +across the gang-plank to the decks of the transport. The mountain men +were still rough of exterior, though very smooth and soldierly to an eye +that had seen them in their "original sin" of heathenish beginnings.</p> + +<p>Lucinda Merton was in San Francisco on the day that the <i>Indiana</i> +sailed. She and perhaps Henry Falkins knew why she had crossed the +continent. As the regiment from bluegrass and mountains filed in their +long lines over the side, she stood on the transport deck with the +colonel and one of his majors and looked on. What things the lovers said +that day, in the moments they stole alone, were their own secrets, but +the girl's eyes and lips were smiling, and the eyes of the young major +were full of light when he slipped into his blouse-pocket a small +leather case—and a photograph. It was to smile at him over many +campfires in the islands.</p> + +<p>Yet, with a teasing laugh and a certain pride of section, the girl +compared the central Kentuckians with the leaner, harder men of the +hills, and announced:</p> + +<p>"Those mountaineers of yours still cry out for the curry-comb, Henry."</p> + +<p>It was the colonel who answered her. He, too, was gazing down with a +smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. The colonel, for all his +Chesterfieldian polish, could judge a horse or man in the raw.</p> + +<p>"They're a shaggy herd," he mused quietly, "exceedingly shaggy and +unkempt. My barbarians, I call them, Lucinda. They are men with the bark +on—but men." He paused, and the smile became a contented grin. "If +there's a chance to baptize them, you'll hear of them again."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For it's Tommy this an' Tommy that, an' 'Tommy 'ow's yer soul?'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it's 'Thin red line of 'eroes' when the drums begin to roll."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Then came days of blue wastes and sparkling wake; days of lazy lounging +on swinging decks and under awnings, and at night the phosphor-play of +the Pacific and stars that hung low and softly lustrous. Often Private +Newt Spooner surprised himself, as he leaned with his bare fore-arms +resting on the rail, to find that his thoughts, instead of busying +themselves with war or vengeance, were going strangely back to the added +room of the smoky cabin on Troublesome and the girl who sat before the +fire in the long evenings when the wind wailed through the dead timber. +The logs were blazing there on the hearth he had built for her.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>One morning the men crowded and jostled at the rail to gaze ahead where +the hunched shoulders of Corregidor Island raised themselves like a +crouching sentinel, at the gate of Manila Bay.</p> + +<p>If the men of the Shirt-tail battalion had feared the dull routine of +garrison duty, they were to be pleasantly disappointed. In those late +January days the impending storm which the Honorable Emilio Aguinaldo +was brewing for the invaders of his "republic" hung imminent on the +horizon of the future.</p> + +<p>The mountaineers went into quarters in the Binondo district of the city, +but more than two score of them were always on the line of outposts +which lay around Manila, resting its left on the salt marshes by the +sea, and its right on the sea again at the end of a six-mile arc.</p> + +<p>The Kentuckians rubbed elbows with a trim and seasoned command of +regulars near the extreme left. To the front beyond the nipa houses and +their palm-fringed gardens, lay unseen the parallel, intrenched lines of +the Insurgents.</p> + +<p>As yet there had been no clash, but each dawn brought expectancy. +Private Newt Spooner, carrying his rifle on sentry duty, often glimpsed +their straw hats and brown faces, above the trench embankments, and +glared across the intervening spaces. Occasionally, too, when +regimental officers rode along the front on inspection of outposts, Newt +saw the figure of his major. Then his embryonic hatred for the brown +men, who lay masked at the back of these palms and rice paddies a few +hundred yards away, passed into total eclipse behind a fiercer emotion.</p> + +<p>One night when not on outpost duty, Newt lay on his cot in the +company-room of the Binondo barracks. The boy was watching the shadows +that wavered on the whitewashed wall, and his face wore a lowering +scowl. Top-Sergeant Peter Spooner glanced at that scowl, and a faint +frown crossed his own features.</p> + +<p>Captain Sparvin of B Company had developed into a fair officer, and in +actual service a wider gulf yawned between the men who held commissions +and those who held warrants than had been the case back in the hills +where the company was born. Yet Sparvin more and more depended on the +Deacon, and more and more left company affairs in his capable hands. The +company's efficiency and deportment were the first sergeant's care. +Charges were preferred or dismissed at Sergeant Spooner's suggestion. +When a "non-com" vacancy occurred, the man suggested by Black Pete was +usually selected to fill it. And to the confidence of the officers was +added a sort of idolatry on the part of the enlisted men. It is quite +likely that had B Company been out on detached service, and had Sergeant +Spooner given a command contradictory to his superior, even after these +months of discipline, B Company would have followed the sergeant. Yet +Sergeant Spooner had his problem, and that problem was his kinsman, +Newt. When Newt scowled in that fashion the top-sergeant was troubled +with apprehension. One crazy man in one crazy moment can do things which +cannot be undone. Yet there was no outward ground for complaint or +charges. In the entire outfit was no more efficient soldier than Newt. +None answered more intelligently or with a snappier quickness to +commands; none kept his kit in more perfect order; none was more +soldierly. The problem was intangible in its outward manifestations, but +the sergeant knew that the boy was "bidin' his time."</p> + +<p>After "taps" the company-room quieted save for snores and heavy +breathing. But Newt, lying quiet on his cot, still staring at the +shadows on the whitewashed wall, was not asleep, and Sergeant Peter +Spooner was not asleep. The tropic night-quiet had settled over the +empty streets of the city, and the footsteps of occasional pedestrians +only emphasized the deep silence.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there came to the ears of the private and the ears of the +sergeant a far-away, but insistent sound, almost a ghost-sound in the +vagueness with which it drifted across the roofs from the north. Yet it +brought them both to their feet, and in an instant both stood together +by the window. Now it was plain enough, and began swelling from a +purring rattle to the crescendo of an approaching wind storm. Somewhere +out there in the far distance was the constant splatter of Mausers like +rain on a tin roof.</p> + +<p>Instantly Sergeant Spooner was arousing B Company and turning them out. +From the streets, too, five minutes ago quiet with a cemetery stillness, +came a confusion of shouting and rushing, punctuated by the sounds of +slamming doors and creaking shutters. Presently the clatter of hoofs and +the brazen signals of bugles gave official notice of immediate action.</p> + +<p>The men of B Company were dressing with the hurry of firemen, and +Sergeant Spooner said quietly:</p> + +<p>"Well, boys, the feud has bust loose."</p> + +<p>Then, almost as suddenly as the clamor of the streets rose, it died +again, and the city lay silent once more except for the distant, +unending roar of musketry.</p> + +<p>At regimental headquarters officers were gathering, and companies were +falling in under the vigorous exhortation of non-coms. Newt Spooner saw +Major Falkins hurry into the room, through whose open door he could see +Private Watson at a telegraph key. The major was buckling his saber-belt +as he went. About the instrument pressed a cluster of battalion and +company officers, crowding eagerly up for news and orders. In a subtle +fashion the news from within floated out and communicated itself to the +lines of men impatiently shuffling their feet in the streets. The +fighting was all along the north front. That was where the Fifth +Kentucky's outposts were stationed. That growing volume of Mauser +argument, with the duller rumble of the Springfields, probably told of +the Kentuckians holding hard against the pressure. Why did not the line +fall into column and move forward? Why did they stand here waiting when +they were needed there? Then came a rumor from the telegraph key that +only two battalions were to go forward, while the third remained in town +with the reserves.</p> + +<p>That report sent a low grumble through the ranks. In the very rattle of +tin-cup on haversack and rifle-butt on cobbles was a note of deep +discontent. Newt could see through the open door the figure of Major +Falkins leaning anxiously over the instrument. Then he saw him turn to +come out with a smile. Brief staccato orders broke from captains and +lieutenants and the Shirt-tailers were swinging down the Calle Lemeri, +with the bluegrass battalion at their backs. The streets gave back +hollow, ghost-like echoes to the rattle of their accouterments and the +quick rhythm of their step. Clearer and noisier to the front rose the +insistent drumming of the fight, and the men from the hills and lowlands +were going at last into action.</p> + +<p>About them were dark streets with jalousies that clicked as anxious +house-holders thrust out startled faces. From other streets they heard +kindred sounds telling of other columns, battalions and regiments, +moving in other currents to the support of their own outposts. The long, +swinging step of the mountaineers carried them swiftly. The bluegrass +men had need to lengthen their stride to hold the pace, and from their +ranks came a low hum of frank and eager excitement, but the +high-landers marched in silence.</p> + +<p>The First Nebraska had borne the brunt of the initial firing, but from +that point it traveled along the whole insurrecto front as forest flames +run in dry leaves, eating its way along a segment of five miles of +trenches. As the battalions drew nearer and the chorus extended, the +night rocked to the solid bellow of musketry, until individual reports +were swallowed and lost in one deep and composite note.</p> + +<p>The Shirt-tail battalion at last left the ordered streets behind and +began its journey through the sparser-peopled environs. They hurried +through villa-adorned suburbs, passing old Spanish mansions. Now +overhead they heard the whine of the Mauser bullets. These messengers +went by with a spiteful song like a whispered shriek: they purred and +whistled like a strangling human throat: they brought to the ear a +ripping noise like the violent tearing of silk. They rattled nastily as +they struck corrugated-iron roofs, and popped when they found billets in +the walls of nipa houses.</p> + +<p>A strange silence sat upon the marching column, or a silence which would +have been strange, with less taciturn men, and they went as though they +were going to mill with grain to be ground. As they were reinforcing +outposts, no advance guard felt its way at the front. The colonel, major +of the second battalion, and part of the staff, all mounted on +Philippine ponies, rode a few paces ahead of the column. The way now +led through scattered houses and straggling gardens, where ragged +palm-fronds waved to the sea-breeze. From some of the windows came wails +of fright as immured house-holders heard the popping of bullets against +their frail habitations.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, above the din of rifle-fire, rose a deep boom, followed by a +rumble like the rail-song of a distant express. Two seconds later came a +loud swish, and two or three of the frail nipa shacks to the left and +rear collapsed as though a ten-pin ball had struck houses of cards. The +column was under artillery fire, and should by all military theories +deploy into open formation, instead of offering a compact target. But +ahead lay an <i>estero</i>, or slough, which must be crossed on a bridge. +Beyond that were open fields with rice-dykes and cane—a place of +comparative security not yet attained.</p> + +<p>At the order "double-quick" ringing from the bugles, the column leaped +eagerly forward to a clattering trot, but before they reached the bridge +two more of the loud-throated roars gave warning, and two more of the +solid shot plowed past, to demolish other houses perilously near by. +Henry Falkins looked back to see how his men were standing this initial +test, and smiled, well satisfied.</p> + +<p>Then the bridge was reached and crossed, and the command was spreading +fan-like into open order. Now the bullets were not only giving voice +overhead, but kicking up the dirt near at hand.</p> + +<p>Out there in the darkness, now only a little way distant, lay the sixty +or seventy men of the regimental outpost, who had been sustaining the +onslaught from the trenches for an hour or more. One could mark their +positions from the spitting tongues of their rifles, and as the two +battalions deployed, creeping up, in open order, to reinforce and +relieve them, they fell back nonchalantly, wiping the sweat out of their +eyes, powder-grimed, and making brief comments to their fellows; +comments perhaps mingled with such sense of patronage as men coming out +of their baptism of fire may have for those just going in. Then, with +business-like quiet, the battalions worked forward and lay down in the +trenches, which had merely been a guard-line for weeks.</p> + +<p>"Falkins," said Colonel Burford, as the two went along the regiment's +length, "there's no use wasting ammunition shooting at a sky line. Those +fellows over there are barely sticking their scalp locks over the +trenches. They are merely peppering the night."</p> + +<p>The major nodded, then with a grin suggested:</p> + +<p>"Colonel, those boys have been under their first strain. They'll rest +easier if they can shoot a few volleys—and it won't burn much powder."</p> + +<p>So, the two battalions, as a matter of indulgence, were permitted to +contribute a salute of challenge, and then, as the bugler sounded "cease +firing," they were ordered to dispose themselves as well as they could +in the trenches and behind the rice-dykes, and rest until morning.</p> + +<p>Thus they spent their first night in the field with the unending, but +comparatively harmless, roar from the north as a clangorous lullaby, and +the tropic starlight in their faces, and the breeze which whispered +gently across the salt marshes from the sea fanning their foreheads.</p> + +<p>When the dawn broke with tropical suddenness like the ringing up of a +quick curtain, the theater of last night's drama stood revealed. With +daylight came a slackening of the night-long Insurgent thunder, which +slowly dropped away to desultory firing, and then to complete quiet. Off +to the left of the line, where the Kentuckians had lain, stretched the +broken wastes of the salt marshes, with here and there in the distance +blue glimpses of the sea. But directly ahead, where all night the +trenches had been barking and vomiting, the landscape was naked of +visible life. The rice-fields went off for a short distance, broken only +by their dykes, and farther away rose a dense screen of bamboo and +woodland, a solid mass of green, from which waved a ragged top of +shredded palms.</p> + +<p>As the men crouched over their hard-tack and coffee, they were thinking +of the day's work, which they hoped would include passing beyond that +screen and those trenches.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + + +<p>During the night a siege-gun had been brought up by hand, and now, from +its place where the road cut through the entrenchments, it opened with +the morning greeting of a hoarse bark, as the crew serving it began +feeling over the landscape for the field-piece which had boomed so +insistently last night.</p> + +<p>Then, as the morning wore on, and orders to advance came, the slow +rifle-firing began again and increased in volume as the sun climbed.</p> + +<p>The night-long rain of random lead had taken its toll in a few wounded, +though none had sustained mortal hurt. Two or three men from B Company +came back to the front from the improvised dressing-station at the rear, +wearing reddened bandages, which they displayed with the cocky pride of +medals, as they picked up their pieces and joined again in the game.</p> + +<p>The masking woods told nothing of the trenches beyond except in the +swish of Mauser bullets, which shredded drooping palm fronds into +tatters. Newt Spooner was squatting on his haunches in the trench, with +a pipe between his teeth. Every now and then he came to his knees and +fired a shot. At his side knelt Jim Dodeman, who until he joined the +militia had never fared twenty miles from the cabin on Troublesome +where he had been born. Jimmy was bored with the ennui of shooting at a +screen of palm trees and crouching between times in a hot ditch. So, at +last, he rose for a fuller view and to stretch the cramp from his limbs. +He rose silently and as silently lay down again, but this time he lay +flat, and, when a pause in proceedings gave Newt leisure to relight his +pipe, he looked down to recognize in Jimmy's posture the dummy-like +quality of death. The little muddy spot under the soldier's temple was +fed by blood trickling from his brain.</p> + +<p>First-Sergeant Peter Spooner had been going back and forth along the +company line, curbing the inclination of its restive integers to +over-spend cartridges in futile bickering. He stopped and turned the +prostrate figure face up, and for a moment looked into the dulled eyes.</p> + +<p>"Dead," commented the sergeant briefly.</p> + +<p>Newt nodded.</p> + +<p>"Them damned Falkinses got him," he said over his shoulder. Then, +remembering that he had swapped enemies, he grinned, and corrected +himself: "I mean them other varmints."</p> + +<p>At noon, a brigade staff-officer brought instructions. The whole line +was to be advanced five hundred yards to a new position where the woods +would no longer screen the enemy, and it was there to dig trenches along +a roadway, which paralleled the present front.</p> + +<p>That news sent a drone of excited pleasure through the bluegrass +companies, and even into the phlegmatic stoicism of the Shirt-tail +battalion crept the suppressed expectation of the first charge. Major +Falkins went along the line for final instructions to company +commanders, and First Sergeant Spooner cast down his company front the +anxious glance of a stage-director who awaits the curtain call, on a +first night.</p> + +<p>But the two platoons seemed steady enough as they rose from the trenches +in extended order, and waited for the word that should launch them +forward.</p> + +<p>Then a bugle rang, and the entire two battalions started silently and +stolidly onward. In a few minutes the silence would be broken—from the +front. On to the screen of the woods they went at a rapid quickstep, and +through the foliage they broke into view, like circus riders through +paper hoops. As they emerged into the open rice-fields, and could see +the straw hats at the top of the trenches four hundred yards to the +north, the stillness was ripped in one wild roar of musketry, and their +terrific welcome had begun. Its echoes rolled away in waves of sound +that merged with fresh outburstings, and nearer at hand, in weird +shrieks, piercing the louder detonations, whimpered the lost-soul wail +of the Mauser bullets. As the straw hats bobbed hysterically up and +disappeared again, the men of the two battalions began stumbling and +lying grotesquely down in the rice-fields.</p> + +<p>They reached the road, which the brigade order said was to be their +resting place. But neither brigade nor division orders can keep men +alive in a place where the physical topography forbids. The road ran at +the right and left in a sunken band between banks two or three feet +high, affording—to east and west—a natural protection; but for the +length of several furlongs it elected to rise and proceed in a level +flush with the rice-fields and gave to even the closest-lying and most +prostrate figures pitiless conspicuousness as targets. On each side, the +troops were at work, improving their cover, and for their work they had +partial security; but the Kentuckians were left mercilessly exposed. +They were firing desperately at the solid earth ahead and receiving in +response a death-hail which they could not for many minutes endure.</p> + +<p>Sergeant Peter Spooner, running in a crouching attitude, dropping, +rising, his rifle barking, was doing all that mortal being could do to +make moles of his men and burrow them into the earth. The situation was +intolerable. The Shirt-tail battalion and the bluegrass battalion stood +in peril of decimation in their maiden engagement.</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner lay stretched behind a mound of earth some seven inches +high. He lay spraddled and flattened like a large drab lizard, hugging +the earth with his feet stretched apart, and even his heels held tight +to the clay. At each report of his piece Private Spooner opened the +block and blew through the breech, as a trap-shooter blows the powder +out of a shot-gun. Private Spooner's face was sweating with exertion, +and the dust turned to mud as it gathered on his chin and jaws.</p> + +<p>Behind similarly insufficient mounds, or no mounds at all, several +hundred other privates were similarly employed. At the front rose a +dense fog of fleecy white, for the volunteers had not yet been afforded +the luxury of smokeless powder. Ever and anon a man rose on one elbow +and strained his eyes in a vain effort to penetrate the pale smoke, and +as the hour-like minutes wore on, more and more of them rolled quietly +over and relinquished their rifles and stared up out of eyes which the +hot glare had ceased to trouble.</p> + +<p>Orders are orders, and the line was commanded to remain here, but Major +Falkins knew that his section of it must move forward, or fall back and +leave the line broken. The colonel was at the regimental center where +the line lapped on the deeper banks. Falkins, with a scarlet thread down +his face where death had brushed him in passing, found the commanding +officer.</p> + +<p>"I can't stay where I am," he shouted; "I must go forward."</p> + +<p>"Go," acquiesced the "C. O." crisply. "And go like hell!"</p> + +<p>At the returning major's elbow pressed the battalion's trumpeter, and, +at the signal of a nod, he set the bugle to his lips and blew, "Cease +firing!" It was the command for which he had been fretting. The brazen +message went only a little way along the noisy line, but it was relayed +by word of mouth; and, as the firing fell away, the second command +clamored upon the first. "Fix bayonets!"</p> + +<p>Those notes were magic. They stood for the wild dash and close quarters +and hand-to-hand punishment. They promised vengeance for the men who had +fallen asleep. Down the front ran the ominous metallic click of engaging +hilt and muzzle, and, as the pall of smoke began to rise, the line came +shouting to its feet and set its eyes hungrily on the yellow stripe that +marked the top of the earth-works. They stood, a moment, exposed as the +command of "forward" flexed their taut nerves. There were three hundred +yards between them and their goal, and these three hundred were +annoyingly and maddeningly broken with fences and gullies, but now they +were free to fire at will, which meant as fast as they could load. Also, +as they advanced, they left behind their own blinding curtain of powder +fog. And these men from the hills, shooting now at a point-blank range +to which they were accustomed: a range at which every man was a +sharp-shooter, combed and harried the yellow earthen band ahead of them +with so galling and stinging and venomous a punishment that the straw +hats drew down like turtle heads into shells, and the Mauser bullets, +fired at random, went wilder and higher.</p> + +<p>It was not easy work, though much easier than lying prone and being shot +to pieces. Even with random marksmanship and growing panic, the brown +men were still sheltered, and many shots went home. Newt, clambering +over a fence, saw at his shoulder a boy who used to sit at his side on +the split-log bench at school. He saw the boy loosen his hold on the +same fence and roll over and over in the rice-stubble, clawing at his +breast, while his lips snarled and swore.</p> + +<p>Then, sixty yards from the yellow rim of the trenches, the bugle rang +out its most blood-quickening call, and, in answer, the line trembled +and leaped forward, and mountain reticence broke at last in one +prolonged mountain yell of fury and loosened passion.</p> + +<p>And, as that barbaric howl of impending doom smote upon the ears of the +Filipinos in their ordered trenches, they read in it a cue for swift +exit, and their white-clad bodies began clambering out of the +rifle-pits, and their brown legs began twinkling through the rice-fields +behind.</p> + +<p>The Kentuckians redoubled their pace. It was intolerable that the men +whom they had left strewn along the rice-paddies should go unavenged. +Yet, when they clambered across the trench fronts, it was to find them +empty, save for those who lay dead.</p> + +<p>For a moment, the victors halted, winded and almost exhausted at the +trenches they had carried. Companies were as hopelessly jumbled and +mixed as a galley of type that a compositor has dropped downstairs.</p> + +<p>Private Newt Spooner and perhaps enough men to make a half-platoon, +after a few moments of gasping and sweat-wiping, rose up and started on +in the trail of the fleeing insurgents.</p> + +<p>"Hold on there!" bellowed Sergeant Peter Spooner, for once losing his +composure in a volley of profanity. "Where the hell do you think you're +goin' to?"</p> + +<p>"We're goin' atter 'em!" shrieked back Private Newton Spooner. "Come on, +boys—we kin git 'em."</p> + +<p>Major Falkins had seen the trouble and rushed up, his face steaming, but +triumphant.</p> + +<p>"Get back, damn you!" he ordered. "Get back to those trenches." He had +neither time nor inclination to explain why pursuit was denied. Such +matters as preserving division alignment were of no interest to these +men.</p> + +<p>For a moment, Newt Spooner hesitated, surveying his battalion commander +with an insolent contempt, then he turned to the other restive privates.</p> + +<p>"Come on, boys!" he yelled. "Don't suffer them niggers ter git away."</p> + +<p>The major and his sergeant acted promptly. With the flat of sword and +clubbed musket, they beat back the mutinous and excited men, and, after +one blood-mad moment, all except Newt turned readily enough with +shamefaced grins.</p> + +<p>But, in the momentary flail-like wielding of his saber-blade, Henry +Falkins had struck Newton Spooner one light blow, and straightway the +boy forgot any war between the United States and Aguinaldo; and +remembered only the old war between himself and the man who had sent him +to prison. He slipped a cartridge into his breech and would have settled +the score at the moment.</p> + +<p>But, in that same moment, Sergeant Peter Spooner caught his hand, and +whispered in his ear.</p> + +<p>"Obey orders, damn you! This ain't your only chance. This ain't no +private quarrel."</p> + +<p>No one else had seen that look, or in the larger excitement read its +significance, and, even while Sergeant Spooner held Private Spooner's +steaming wrist, and their faces bent close together, sweat-wet and +dirt-stained, a new roar awoke two hundred yards to their left, to seize +their attention. The windows and doors of the old Spanish church, that +stood with a crooked cross tottering over its stained stucco walls, was +belching fire upon them. There was no time to form company or platoon +now, or to sort men into their rightful commands. Major Falkins waved +his saber and led the way at a run toward the offending walls, and +Sergeant Spooner at his heels was herding the group forward at pell-mell +speed, their rifles blazing and barking as they went.</p> + +<p>A few of them did not reach the place, but enough did, and, as they came +to the front, spreading and dividing to prevent possible escape from +other entrances, the doors opened, and the over-venturesome refugees +rushed out in a pelting tide of effort to fight their way to freedom by +a sortie. Then the wrath of the mountaineers was appeased, and those of +the enemy who did not remain for burial went back as prisoners.</p> + +<p>As Henry Falkins hurried back to his command, Private Newt Spooner +followed close at his heels and this time his rifle swung at his side. +Its bayonet bore some stains which he wiped off as he walked. At the +trenches, the bugle was sounding assembly. Across the face of the +country, wisps and attenuated clouds of smoke were wreathing their way +up and melting in the blue. From the rice-paddies and dykes rose +wavering mists of heat.</p> + +<p>The Kentucky hillsmen, now reformed into column, were going back to +their fellows. They alone had had the capping triumph of crossing the +earth-works and effecting the hand-to-hand dislodgment of the enemy. So +they went back with a jaunty tread, and they paused before starting +across that four hundred yards where they should be watched as returning +victors, to pull out their shirt-tails. Marching in that style, they +would not have to declare their identity.</p> + +<p>To Henry Falkins they suggested, as the skirts of their flannel shirts +flapped around their legs like kilts, those far-off ancestors of the +Scotch highlands whose blood flowed unamalgamated in their veins.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + + +<p>That inflexible grip which the service takes upon its units and +fractions of units, had slowly and unconsciously altered the view-point +of The Fifth Kentucky foot. Back there in the stagnant riffle of a life +which for a century had not taken a forward step, their motto had been, +"Let us alone," and every man had been a law to himself; despot over his +own affairs and the affairs of his family. Now, because they obeyed in a +common cause and of their own volition, obedience no longer irked them, +and they had come to think of themselves less as individuals than as +bricks mortared together in a military arch.</p> + +<p>The second day after the outbreak of insurrection passed with no greater +excitement than occasional and desultory firing from the front. Night +fell with utter quiet as though both armies were exhausted and ready for +sleep. The stars overhead were bright and close, and the men, sprawling +on the earth, were thinking softened thoughts, or crouching around +campfires in rehearsal of recent events.</p> + +<p>Near the spot where Newt Spooner lay stretched on his blanket, a +bearded, gaunt man, with a sprinkling of gray in his beard, was writing +a letter home. It was Uncle Jerry Belmear, whose forge and smithy stood +at the forks of Squabble Creek. The yellow flare from a shaded lantern +fell in sharp high lights on his lean cheekbones and on the cramped +hand, laboriously pushing its pencil. His lips moved, automatically +spelling out the words of difficult composition. Newt was watching him +with the reflection that there was nowhere anyone to whom he himself +could send a thrill of pleasure with a letter. Then, since strange +influences were working in the boy's starved heart, he wondered if, +after all, "Clem's gal" might not be glad to hear from him. Minerva was +"eddicated," and in her head were cogitations which he could never hope +to comprehend. She took medals for "larnin'"—he ground his teeth as he +thought from whose hand she had taken one. He was ignorant and +"pizen-mean." The contrast was obvious. Yet, she had looked at him with +a friendly glance, and had been grateful for his championship.</p> + +<p>But these idle thoughts were violently interrupted by a sudden staccato +outburst and the darting of Mauser tongues through the dark. Recumbent +figures came to their feet. Uncle Jerry Belmear rose with the +half-finished letter in his hand, and as he stood up he was struck. Had +the same man been wounded in a charge or lying in his trench, he would +have fallen silently, but that messenger out of the night, coming when +his thoughts were all back in the silent Cumberlands, startled him into +outcry. He wheeled, and from his lips broke a sound that started as an +oath and ended in a weird shriek, heard along the whole battalion +front.</p> + +<p>As though they had wanted only that cue, the battalion, hitherto patient +to await orders, sprang to the trenches and began pumping their +Springfields frantically into the night. Buglers were madly blowing +"Cease firing"; officers and sergeants were carrying profanity and +strong language the length of the line, but the panic spirit had to +spend itself before the men heard or obeyed—and realized with chagrin +that stray bullets had upset them.</p> + +<p>But that mild disgrace of showing nerves, instead of nerve, must be +lived down, and it served to put the newly made veterans the more on +their mettle.</p> + +<p>Almost every day that followed brought its clash with the enemy, and +once or twice the Shirt-tailers came into hand-to-hand struggles, where +it was bayonet and butt, and "fist and skull," and where their barbaric +yell drowned the bugles. They grew accustomed to the thunderous roar +with which the cruisers in the harbor shelled the Insurgent positions in +preparation for their advance, and so day by day, and step by step, the +still parallel lines of the brown men gave back, and those of the +American force hitched forward.</p> + +<p>And in these, by no means idle days, the word went abroad among them +that they were only waiting here to be relieved by fresh troops from the +States, and were to be a part of the force designated to push on to the +Insurgent capital.</p> + +<p>But the rumor went ahead of the actuality. Sometimes there were days of +quiet and even brief informal truces at certain sections of the front, +when the open rice-fields became a common playground. Then the straw +hats that had heretofore bobbed up only to fire and bob down again, +moved about in the open, and watched the <i>Americanos</i> playing baseball. +Once a band came out from Manila, and, when the heat of the day was +spent, gave a concert in the rice-fields, and at its end, as the +national air swelled out and the troops from home stood at attention and +uncovered, the straw hats across the open fields were also doffed. +Though he did not quite understand why, that incident caused a strange +and new emotion to pulse through the arteries of Private Newton Spooner; +an emotion in no way kin to the "pizen-meanness" for which he was justly +notorious. But the courteous enemy never allowed these pleasant recesses +to endure long, and after a lesson or two in treachery they ended.</p> + +<p>At last came the forward movement, the rush into native towns across +their defenses, the pursuit of fleeing insurgents, and the glare in the +sky as the nipa houses went up in flame; and the lying down at night in +bivouac under the stars. In due course followed the end of state-troop +days and the organization of new regiments of United States volunteers. +Yet, this was more a change in the technical than the real, for while +the Fifth Kentucky ceased to exist and the Shirt-tail battalion was no +more, most of the men who had comprised the command were again together +in the Twenty-sixth Volunteers, and the men from the hills still +followed Major Henry Falkins.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Young Manly Fulton had returned to Louisville with a degree from Harvard +University and an ambition to become a journalist. At the newspaper +office where he was carried exceedingly near the bottom of the pay-roll, +he was classed as a cub whose value no one took seriously save himself. +In the course of time, it entered the mind of young Fulton that a visit +to the schools and "colleges" of the Cumberlands would make a +"feature-story" of general interest. He heard of young people, and older +people, too, who were struggling to shake off the bonds of a century-old +illiteracy, so he confided to his Sunday editor that herein lay, ready +to hand, a subject with genuine "heart-interest." The Sunday editor +laughed, and explained that this story had been often written, but, if +the reporter wished to ring one more change on an old theme, he might +go—at his own expense. So the young man went to Jackson, and from +Jackson, with mule and saddle-bags, to the college on Fist-fight Creek. +As the principal was showing him over the place, a girl passed through +the library, and the "furriner" was presented.</p> + +<p>The girl looked unwaveringly into his eyes as the professor smilingly +said, "This is Miss Minerva Rawlins; one of our native-born. We are +rather proud of Miss Rawlins." Manly Fulton looked back at her, and his +clean-cut young face for some reason flushed. He had heard much of the +slatternly women of the hills, women who bore drudgery and children, and +early became hags. Now, he found himself being put at ease by a young +creature who carried herself like a goddess, and whose eyes shielded, +behind a naďve reserve, the truant impulse to twinkle into amusement at +his evident confusion.</p> + +<p>Later, the head of the faculty suggested:</p> + +<p>"If you want to see and appreciate the full contrast between the +school-life and home-life of these people, persuade Miss Rawlins to play +guide for you along Troublesome. To-morrow is Saturday, and she will be +riding home. Why don't you ride with her?"</p> + +<p>So, when "Clem's gal" started across the mountains, the young man rode +at her side, listening eagerly to the new point of view that her speech +developed, and marveling at the life he saw about him; a life in which +he seemed to have stepped back a century. It was all wonderful, for +spring had come to the hills and kissed them, and they were smiling with +a smile of blossom and young leaf, and whispering with soft breezes and +the singing of crystal waters.</p> + +<p>For a time, her conversation was, "Yes, sir," and, "No, sir"; for, +though at first it had been himself who was embarrassed, it was now she, +and so, until she discovered how boyish and frank he was, she eyed him +with shy and sidelong glances. But, at last, she began to reveal a +flower-like personality which was altogether charming, strangely +blended with a gravely mature point of view. Her language, partly the +hard-conned "proper speaking" of the school, and partly idiom, amused +him with its quaint out-cropping of Elizabethan phrases, which fell in +tripping unconsciousness from her lips.</p> + +<p>When near sundown they came to her cabin, he felt the girl's embarrassed +eyes on him as her father invited him "to light an' stay all night." And +at table, though his stomach revolted against the greasy and uninviting +fare, he knew that, as she served him standing, her eyes were fixed upon +him. He caught the high-chinned courage of her unapologetic loyalty, +even to swinish blood, and gamely bolted his food with mock relish.</p> + +<p>"God!" thought the boy, as he vainly tried to sleep that night in the +swelter of the over-crowded cabin. "What a life it must be for her! And +yet," he added, "what escape is there?"</p> + +<p>The next day, she took him rambling along creek-beds where she had +friends among the early flowers and ferns and budding things and the +feathered and singing things. She was in an unusually light and gay +mood, and chattered until he felt that he was in an enchanted forest, +and through her talk, which was all of birds and blossoms and woodland +mysteries, he caught brief flashes of insight into herself.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he suddenly demanded, looking up from a mossy place where +he was gathering violets, "that you are a rather wonderful sort of +person?"</p> + +<p>She stood over him, slender, and simply garbed in a blue calico dress +and a blue calico sun-bonnet. Into her belt she had thrust a cluster of +violets, and her eyes, which were closely akin to their petals, grew +suddenly serious. The corners of her lips drooped in wistfulness.</p> + +<p>"Am I?" she questioned gravely. It was the nearest thing to a compliment +that had come her way.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he asserted, rising to his feet. "Anywhere else in the world +people would be wild about you, and here whom do you see? You know the +verses, 'full many a flower was born to blush unseen.' Don't be one of +them."</p> + +<p>"How am I going to help it?" she asked him simply. He did not respond, +because he was asking himself the same question. But, when that only +visitor from the outside world had ridden away, the place seemed rather +empty and desolate to the girl, and she sat alone in the spring woods +while some voice insistently queried, "How can you help yourself?" She +would marry no man who was ashamed of her people, even if such a man +should come to woo her, and no man whom she would care to marry could +well escape being ashamed of her people. Only one man had she ever known +who seemed to feel for her a sort of reverence; to look up to her as +superior to himself. That man had been very rough and wolfish in his +championship—and that man had been a felon!</p> + +<p>If some man might come who felt that way, and yet who had a living and +enlightened soul; if such a man should say, "I love you—"</p> + +<p>"Clem's gal" bent forward and pressed her fingers against her temples. +"Oh, God!" she whispered.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Long ago Malolas had been taken, and the armies of Emilio Aguinaldo were +giving back. Soon was to come the second and longer phase of the +insurrection: that of the guerilla days. But as yet there were still +occasions of battle.</p> + +<p>The enemy lay one day with his trench-tops commanding a steep river-bank +and a deep, swiftly-flowing current of tawny water, adding defense to +his front. Half-way across this stream the broken abutments and twisted +girders of a dynamited railroad bridge showed his preparations for +attack. Yet both river and trenches must be crossed, and the 26th +Volunteers had come, among others, to do it. A small mortar was merrily +tossing shells across the way, but they fell on roofs devised of the +rails from the uptorn track, and fell for the most part harmless. One +small section of the earth-works was unroofed, and from it the mortar +had driven the Insurgents. That troubled the enemy only because it was +the one loop-holed portion of the defenses and consequently more +healthful for riflemen.</p> + +<p>A few strong swimmers might carry a rope across, thought Major Falkins, +and attach its loose end to the bamboo stakes which went up at the very +edge of the trench-embankments, provided they could live long enough. +Killing is quicker work than swimming in a strong current. But, if three +started and one arrived, his fellows could follow in the few leaky +barges that were available. These barges could cross, if at all, only by +rope-ferry. The current set its veto on any use of oars. For such +character of work a "suicide squad" is asked to nominate itself, and +among those who responded was Corporal Newton Spooner, formerly Private +Newton Spooner of the Shirt-tailers, and before that, No. 813 at +Frankfort.</p> + +<p>As the boy stripped off his khaki and stood naked behind a screening +tangle of riverside growth, several machine-guns and the musketry of the +regiment were preparing to give him at least a noisy end.</p> + +<p>Major Falkins stood by, coaching the three swimmers as a trainer coaches +his jockey when the saddling bugle sounds in the paddock.</p> + +<p>"Watch the rope," commanded the major briefly. "Swim in single file, and +not too close together." He turned to Newt, who happened to be standing +nearest him.</p> + +<p>"It's going to be mean work, Spooner," he said in a low voice; "I hate +to order it."</p> + +<p>Corporal Spooner saluted, but his eyes narrowed and glittered with a +light venomously serpent-like.</p> + +<p>"I reckon," he said in a guardedly low voice, which only the major +heard, "you'd like to see me peg out, wouldn't you? But I ain't goin' to +do it. I'm goin' to live long enough to finish a job I've got to attend +to yet. I reckon you know what it is."</p> + +<p>Then he slipped without a splash into the water, for he was to lead the +little procession. The major raised his hand in signal, and the +spattering roar became a solid thunder. Rapid-fire guns, mortar and +Krags played on the earth-works. Every Shirt-tailer was sighting as +though for a sharp-shooter's medal—carefully, deliberately. A scathe of +lead raked the trench tops, under which every brown head went down and +stayed cautiously invisible. With strong, sure strokes the three naked +men shot out into the stream and past its center—seemingly unobserved. +It began to look as though they would gain the other side unseen by the +enemy. But suddenly, from the loop-holed section, came spiteful little +squirts of fire. Against that fire only the mortar could cope—and the +mortar had turned its attention elsewhere. Tiny geysers kicked +themselves up where the Mauser bullets struck and skipped on the water. +The roar from the Shirt-tailers rose in louder indignation, and the crew +serving the mortar was feverishly refinding the range. A few more +strokes, and the three men fighting the current would be safe in the lee +of the steep bank—but the little geysers were multiplying. The third +man suddenly turned his face backward over his shoulder, and shook his +head. He raised a hand as one who waves farewell at a railroad station, +and went down. Corporal Spooner and the other man were reaching out to +grasp the projecting roots that fringed the opposite shore, but, as the +second man crawled up on the bank, there appeared on his naked flesh a +constantly spreading splotch of crimson. Corporal Spooner paused to drag +him under cover, then proceeded to tie the rope and—safe, because of +his very proximity—sat down, panting, to wait.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> + + +<p>Two general officers were eye-witnesses to that river crossing; they +chatted about it over the cable with the government at Washington. Major +Falkins, too, who had conceived the plan and crossed in the first barge, +before the mortar got the exact range of the loop-holed breast-works, +was also mentioned in these despatches. Later, both the major and +corporal were given the Medal of Honor, and Newt became Sergeant +Spooner, whereat the Deacon, now battalion sergeant-major, patted him +approvingly on the back. But fate sometimes indulges in satiric +contrasts. One afternoon, when the rush on a trench was over, and had +been so mild an affair that the men felt like a fire company turning out +to a false alarm, the last straggling volley from the routed enemy +dropped both the major and the new sergeant in the stubble.</p> + +<p>Newt's hurt was a shattered arm, but the superior officer had an ugly +hole torn through one lung, over which the field surgeons shook their +heads and whispered things about grave complications. Both were jolted +back in wagons to the railroad.</p> + +<p>Sergeant Spooner knew that his trouble was simply a matter of hospital +inactivity and waiting, but in Manila, as in the field, surgeons talked +anxiously about the battalion chief. Every day an orderly from division +headquarters clattered up to the hospital to inquire after his health, +and the ladies who had followed their soldier husbands as far as Manila +sent flowers. It was finally decided that Major Falkins could only +complete his recovery, if at all, in a more temperate climate, and so he +was invalided back to the States. Newton did not know he was gone until +the transport had sailed, and, when a hospital orderly brought the news, +he said nothing, though his face set itself as he gazed at the whitewash +of the ward wall, and sniffed the antiseptic odor of carbolic acid.</p> + +<p>There were days of convalescence when with his arm in a splint the +mountain boy wandered about the town, which he had, until now, had so +little opportunity to investigate. Each day he would stroll to the north +bank of the Pasig River, where it cut the city in half, and wander among +the strange many-colored sights and pungent reeks of the Chinese bazaars +in the <i>Escolta</i>. If these explorations brought him any sense of +wonderment or interest, it was denied expression in his brooding eyes. +Sometimes he would cross the ancient stone bridge, and wander at random +into the walled Plaza de Manila, which had been the town of three +hundred years ago. Late afternoon usually found him on the <i>paseo</i> along +the bay, and there, with the tepid water heaving drowsily at his front, +he would lean until darkness fell, thinking of two things. Somehow, the +face of "Clem's gal" rose often and insistently into his reflections, +and the set of his jaw slackened almost to a smile. Then the thought of +his old grudge would come, and the jaw muscles would stiffen again, +crowding out the softness.</p> + +<p>The grip of the service was strong upon him, and he could salute his +superior without a wince, and stand as respectfully at attention as any +other of his comrades; but he knew that this was only because he had +learned to dissociate the personal self from the military self. His +hatred and the resolve born of it were undying. Generations of Spooners +had made a virtue of hating until it coursed as an instinct with their +blood. He knew now that simply to kill Henry Falkins would be no revenge +at all. True punishment must involve the torture of dread, and for the +major death would fail to attain that purpose. He must, therefore, +devise something more exquisitely painful, and now, having leisure for +reflection, he let his mind run on ways and means.</p> + +<p>The Islands are not a good place for one to brood upon a fixed idea. On +every transport he saw men, backward-bound, whose faces wore the imprint +of melancholia and morbid derangements; men who were climate-mad.</p> + +<p>Yet, the sergeant had another idea at the back of his head to which he +never referred, and while he was waiting to be sent back to his regiment +he might often have been seen sitting on one of the paseo benches, deep +in the study of a spelling book, or arithmetic.</p> + +<p>While these things were going on in Luzon, Henry Falkins was fast coming +back to health. This was natural enough, for each morning the breeze +stirred the chintz curtains of his window in the old mansion near +Winchester, and the breeze was freighted with the heavy sweetness of +honey-suckle. Each morning as he came down to breakfast, he would meet +on the old colonial stairway a girl whose eyes sometimes danced +mischievously and sometimes deepened into sweet serenity. Then in the +dining-room, where Jouett portraits of men in blue and buff gazed down, +this girl would pour his coffee from the old silver pot that these same +ancestors had brought out of Virginia. And the colonel would fall +pleasantly into reminiscences of days when he, too, wore a uniform, +though it was gray, and rode with Morgan's men.</p> + +<p>But there was a better medicine than that for Henry Falkins: the +medicine of joy. Sundry preparations were going forward in the house. +Dress-makers were working like beavers, because when the major had +recovered sufficiently to return to the Philippines, he was not going +alone. There was to be a wedding in the meantime. The girl had been down +to "Bloody Breathitt," and stood with him on a high place in the hills. +She had breathed deep with appreciative delight as she gazed off beyond +the crests of their wooded slopes, where the patriarchal pines and oaks +stood sentinel over the valleys. And there she had ridden the trails +tirelessly, and the rude mountain folk had treated her like a young +queen come from another land, because, with her sesame of graciousness, +she had won her way into the sealed reserve of their hearts.</p> + +<p>Together, the two had gathered the blossoms from the rhododendron, and +down in shaded recesses where the waters whispered over mossy rocks and +the elder-fringed forests closed in until only slender threads of +sunshine filtered through, they had gathered ferns and been children +together.</p> + +<p>At last came the day when they knelt down and rose together from +cushions before an improvised altar in the wide hall, and the colonel +led them all to the wainscoted dining-room. There, in a vintage that had +lain for a generation in the cobwebbed sleep of the cellar, both the old +man from the mountains and the old man from the bluegrass toasted +them—"Even if," as the colonel chortled, "the youngster is a Yankee +soldier."</p> + +<p>When the journey across the continent ended, they had lazy days at sea. +As Henry Falkins gazed at his wife, panama-hatted, white-clad, with the +Pacific winds stirring the one curl that, in persistent truancy, escaped +its confinement to trail across one eye, he wondered if she were really +not too delectable a vision to be real. And his brother officers seemed +to think so, too, so that she reigned on the quarter-deck.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>But, if the testimony of so astute an observer as General Sherman is to +be accepted, war is not unbroken honeymoon, and in the Islands in 1900 +the general's monosyllabic descriptive was more applicable. At least, +that was true in certain provinces, where the orders of <i>El Presidente</i> +were being carried into effect with ardor and pertinacity. Those orders +were to disperse, live outwardly as <i>Americanistas</i>, and under the +semblance of peace to harry, sting and annoy the army of occupation. The +seventy thousand troops now in the Islands were no longer marching and +bivouacking as armies, but, "split in a thousand detachments," were +scattered into garrisons from the China Sea to the Pacific.</p> + +<p>Over beyond the mountains and across the level plantation lands of Nueva +Ecija lay a town from whose center radiated many meager <i>barrios</i> and +villages. It was a town with a small stone church, from whose teetering +cross one arm had been shot away.</p> + +<p>That church had a line of graves—inside its walls, with stones +identically alike—and a history. Here, for almost a solid year, a +garrison numbering at the outset fifty Spanish soldiers had held out +with heroism against a swarming horde of Insurgents equipped with +artillery. The town bore many <i>recuerdos</i> of that long and dogged fight. +The walls of the church showed them in disfiguring scars, like those on +the face of a man who has been mercilessly pitted by small-pox. The +ruins of nipa houses showed them in fallen roof-trees and gaping +breeches. The even ranks of gravestones, within the walls, bore eloquent +testimony in successive dates of death.</p> + +<p>In long, underscoring lines of brutally strong trenches and +transverses, went still more of the record. How snugly and safely the +besiegers had burrowed into the ground, and swept and whipped the +starving garrison inside, was easy to read.</p> + +<p>It was in this town with its church that Henry Falkins with his +battalion was ordered to "wait in heavy harness, on fluttered folk and +wild." The way thither lay over a hundred miles of plain and mountain, +and in that hundred miles, under the extremely capable eyes of Lacuna +and Paolo Tecson, the brown hornets were buzzing with extraordinary and +tireless stinging power.</p> + +<p>The battalion would make the march with a mule train and an escort of +two extra companies, and when it was ensconced in the village which the +war-scarred church dominated, the escort would say farewell and return +to Manila. The extra companies would be picked up for the homeward +journey by a cruiser, which would meantime have steamed with supplies +around the north end of Luzon, through Batingtang Channel, and down the +Pacific coast. After that, from time to time other ships would come and +bring old mail, and look in to see that the garrison was still there and +on the job. It was not a place to take a bride, even though the bride +had crossed the Pacific to be with her husband and held determined views +on the subject of being left behind in her rooms at the Orient.</p> + +<p>Possibly, Henry Falkins told her, she could follow later by sea.</p> + +<p>For three days, the command, with its train of fifty mules pushed on +through a level country, well watered, and seemingly uninhabited. On the +fourth, it struck the mountains, and from that point crawled, scrambled +and panted. Up slopes steep and slippery with untrodden grass, where +hoofs and feet shot treacherously out, the column crept, until the mules +balked, and their burdens had to be transferred to human shoulders; a +half-dozen pack animals shot over cliff edges, and burst like balloons +in rocky gorges below.</p> + +<p>Then, descending into a valley where the grass grew long and lush along +the waterways, and lay brownly parched a little distance back, the +column readjusted its impedimenta, and mended its pace. Sometimes the +heat over the grass simmered in misty waves, and the marching men +clamped their unshaven jaws, and set their eyes eastward. The eyes were +growing blue-circled and weary, and the infantrymen picked up each foot +with a sense of distinct and separate effort. Sometimes from the long +grass at the side broke an unwarned din of rifle-fire, as the "point" +ran into an ambuscade, and then the column closed up and in the merry +response of volleys for the moment forgot its weariness. Sometimes the +parched grass, kindled by unseen and hostile hands, burst into scorching +sheets of flame at the front, necessitating tedious detours. In this +fashion, at the end of ten days, they came to the town with the church, +and found the cruiser awaiting them. The escort returned at once, and +left the First Battalion of the 26th Regiment, United States +Volunteers, to attend to its knitting, with the Pacific Ocean in front +of it and the ragged mountains at its back.</p> + +<p>There was much to be done, for not all of the command was to stay there. +In near-by towns smaller detachments under company officers were to +establish themselves and put the fear of God and the Eagle into +rebellious hearts. That these outlying factions might not be cut off +from headquarters, nerves of telegraph wires must be strung across the +hills and through the <i>bijuca</i> tangles of the <i>bosque</i>. These lines +must, in places, follow bolo-cut tunnels through the jungle where the +air was hot and fetid; where one fought for breath and was blinded by +the streaming sweat, and where the stiffness of one's spine oozed out in +flaccid weariness. Also, it proved immensely diverting to the loyal +<i>amigos</i> to creep out by night with a pair of wire-nippers and undo in a +moment what men had moiled through days to accomplish. When these wires +sputtered and fell dead it was usually a fairly good indication that +news of some fresh atrocity would finally percolate, and that a new +"punitive expedition" must fare forth.</p> + +<p>And yet in the town itself, and even in the smaller garrisons clustered +about it, there was no overt act of rebellion—only ghastly news from +the hills and hinterland.</p> + +<p>In these days, former top-sergeant Peter Spooner, now battalion +sergeant-major with the 26th Volunteers, became more than ever a force +in himself. The smattering of Spanish which he had picked up in old +Mexico had become a fluent stream. He was so valuable in a dozen ways +that the semi-clerical work of sergeant-major often fell to other hands, +while Black Pete was out on special detail. His scouting expeditions +were effective of such results that the name of the dark giant became +with the people of the enemy, as it had once been in the Kentucky +mountains, a word to conjure with. In short, Black Pete Spooner was such +a treasure of a "non-com" as gave his superiors food for mess-table +boasting.</p> + +<p>"Spooner," declared his captain, "could command a battalion if called +on. He absorbs detail. He has even picked up the Morse code, and only +yesterday I found him relieving the signal-corps man at the key. That's +an example of his versatile efficiency."</p> + +<p>In many scouting expeditions, Sergeant Newton Spooner likewise won for +himself the bitter hatred of the guerillas. These mountain men had, in +common with the enemy, the ability to become invisible, and often when +they were supposedly being stalked it was found that they were really +stalking.</p> + +<p>So the days passed, and at last a steamer brought fresh supplies and +also Mrs. Henry Falkins, who would no longer be denied.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + + +<p>Months in the isolation of a tropic garrison bring to the minds of men +strange vagaries. When the work is that of hunting down elusive little +traitors, who present faces of friendship by day and develop ingenious +and atrocious deviltries at night, the effects are neither softening nor +humanizing.</p> + +<p>The presence of Mrs. Henry Falkins was to the men of the battalion like +the steady freshening of a clean and fragrant breeze into a miasma. Had +they had their way, they would have set her up, a living image, in the +place of the patron saint above the bullet-scarred altar of the church. +But even saints have defects, virtuous and noble defects perhaps, such +as erring on the side of too great faith in humanity, when humanity is +treacherous.</p> + +<p>One native woman, whose face bore more strongly the characteristics of +some far-off Castilian ancestor than of immediate forbears and mixed +race, came to headquarters, and ingratiated herself with the commander's +lady. When she brought in the week's washing, her smile was a dazzling +flash of milky teeth and lips touched with Spanish carmine.</p> + +<p>And it fell to pass that, though he had always been an immune to +feminine blandishments, the tall sergeant-major was seen frequently +strolling between the <i>nipa</i> houses with the <i>mestiza</i> girl.</p> + +<p>The Deacon, who had always been reserved, even melancholy in the +thoughtfulness of his expression, was in these days more deeply somber +than before.</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner, alone in the command, recognized that there was some +secret gnawing within his kinsman and that it was not a pleasant secret.</p> + +<p>Deaths in the battalion had claimed several lieutenants, and left +vacancies which carried commissions. Sergeant-major Spooner felt the +time ripe for him to cross the line from non-com to commissioned +officer. He could, in the old militia days, have had captain's bars for +the taking. Now it would need the mandate of Washington, but the fact +that nothing was said about it secretly grieved him. His officers from +major down had bragged endlessly of his efficiency, yet the thought that +was constantly in his mind never seemed to occur to them, and he +doggedly refused to suggest it. It should not be inferred that the +non-commissioned giant went sulking about his work. On the contrary, +whatever rancor he felt was inward and unworded, and for that reason the +more dangerous.</p> + +<p>Newt, too, was feeling the influences of marrow-pinching days and +jungle-burrowing and mountain-climbing on chases that came to nothing. +More and more prominently, the haunting presence of his private grudge +thrust itself to the front of his brain and grew sinister.</p> + +<p>The boy held his peace, though he knew that Sergeant-Major Spooner had +received a letter from one of the Insurgent "generals" offering him a +captain's commission "in the service and just cause of the Republic." +Black Pete himself believed that this proffer was in reality an effort +to lure him into the power of the enemy for torture and death, and he +mentioned the incident only to his major.</p> + +<p>Then, one morning, the <i>mestiza</i> girl bade a smiling farewell, which was +also tearful, and was kissed by the major's lady. She was going away, +she explained, to relatives who dwelt in the mountains. She waved her +hand vaguely toward the Cordilleras: "<i>Mucho</i> distance away. No longer +could she see the beautiful seńora, or"—and here her dark lashes +drooped and her olive cheeks flushed—"or the tall, brave <i>soldado +Americano</i>."</p> + +<p>Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner walked with her, as far as the outskirts of +the town, and the two talked in low voices, in Spanish. So the Deacon +was the last to bid her farewell, as befitted the man who had most +impressed her heart.</p> + +<p>If the sergeant-major was cast down, he only devoted himself more +industriously to the service, and gave no sign.</p> + +<p>And the service had need of him, for a few days later came word of a +sizeable force of the enemy camped in the mountains, and bent on +mischief. In one of the few loyal villages the <i>presidente</i> had been +murdered and many <i>Americanista</i> houses put to the torch. Swiftly enough +the battalion prepared for pursuit and punishment. Yet to go out in +force would mean failure, so several scouting parties left in advance +of the column. One went under the command of Lieutenant Sperry, and +Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner was included at his own request.</p> + +<p>It was thought natural that the sergeant-major should wish to be one of +the avengers. The native girl had gone that way; might be in that region +where <i>amigos</i> were being slaughtered, and it was perhaps known to the +guerillas that she had loved an American soldier whom they blackly +hated.</p> + +<p>The detail embraced only twelve men, one of whom returned. But even that +one did not return to the town by the church.</p> + +<p>At a considerable native village, some ten miles away and lying at the +edge of the mountains, was garrisoned a platoon of the battalion under +the command of <i>Teniente</i> Barlow. The road between the town with the +church and this subsidiary station was, for that country, good, and the +garrisoned village itself was as safe as a fortress. It was beyond that +the work lay.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Falkins learned that a company from headquarters would march +at once to follow up what news the scouts brought in, she promptly +announced that as far as the village she would accompany the expedition. +The major raised no objection. It was a pleasant thought that he could +defer his farewell with his wife until he left the edge of the +safety-zone, and meet her there on his return. Mrs. Falkins rode her +native pony along that ten mile-march with a feeling of exhilaration and +pride. These men who marched and fought behind her husband, were to her +all members of a great family, of which he was the head. They were no +longer raw men, "unmade, unhandled, unmeet," but seasoned and tempered +veterans, and her young heart thrilled with pride as she drank in the +morning air, and gazed with fascination at the vivid colors of the +forests and the weird picturesqueness of the thatched hamlets by the +way.</p> + +<p>For five days after their arrival in the village, they awaited news from +the hills. They had hoped for definite tidings before that time, but as +yet the delay had caused no anxiety. The scouts might have found the +reconnaissance a larger enterprise than they had anticipated. So those +at the village invoked the philosophy of patience—and waited.</p> + +<p>It had been some time since Lieutenant Barlow had seen a woman from +God's country. He was one of the men who had come to the regiment with +its reorganization, and now he was glad that he had turned a native +bungalow into a fairly comfortable place for the quartering of his +superior and his superior's wife. There was a small thatched porch, +shaded against the mid-day glare by a grass curtain. From this verandah +when the moonlight flooded the village, one had a view not to be +despised. Across a bare space of so-called plaza stood the house +occupied as headquarters, and now, on the fourth evening after their +arrival, its office stood open-doored and vacant, save for the musician +of the guard, who must remain on duty there until tattoo.</p> + +<p>Everywhere about the village was the ordered quiet of a town well +guarded. The girl sat in a deep wicker chair, while the two officers +nursed their khaki-clad knees on the steps—and all talked of the +States. The moonlight seemed to gush and flow over the face of the +world, and to throw walls and roofs and palms into the fantastic +picture-shapes of a fairy tale. Off between the houses, she could see +the pacing figure of a sentry. Overhead from the nipa roof came the +occasional stirring of a house-snake, and in the long silences, which +the night stillness fostered, they heard tiny sounds of delicate +scurrying footfalls as the lizards scampered across the walls.</p> + +<p>One of them darted out into the yellow light of the open door, and +halted near the lieutenant's knee. There, flashing like luminous jade +and inflating his small crimson throat, he shrilled out his small, +strident voice, and others answered.</p> + +<p>It all seemed very unreal and far away and strangely beautiful. Then to +their ears drifted a call from the sentry line for the corporal of the +guard.</p> + +<p>Athwart the front of the headquarters building lay an unbroken space, +which the moonlight dyed with the deep blue-green radiance of a black +opal. Shortly there appeared into this space two figures, carrying +something which seemed heavy. They moved slowly as though their burden +were a thing that required much care and, as they came nearer and made +their way slowly toward the open door of the headquarters office, it +became obvious that what they bore between them was a very limp human +being. At first, it seemed unconscious and hung sagging in their arms; +but, before they had disappeared through the doorway, it came to life +with a nerve-rasping jargon of delirious sounds and lashed out +inconsiderately with its arms and legs at the men who were giving it +assistance.</p> + +<p>Major Falkins and Lieutenant Barlow rose hastily, and crossed the space +of moonlight. The girl rose, too, but she went into the house with that +sound of raving still in her ears—and sat down, suddenly unnerved.</p> + +<p>In the office, the major and lieutenant found the creature which had, +several days ago, been a private soldier of the headquarters scouts, +lying on the floor in the lemon-colored lamplight. It was mumbling +inarticulate things through parched and cracking lips, and gazing wildly +out of a couple of red embers that had formerly been eyes. Its clothing +hung on it in tatters, and the exposed flesh was bolo-gashed and +briar-torn. This was the one man of the twelve who came back to +report—and came back decorated from torture. The surgeon was already +kneeling on the floor, doing what human skill could do—which was too +little.</p> + +<p>The raving man made tortured efforts to speak, as though the eternal +peace of his soul required it; but, of those bending over him, none +could construe the hoarse gibberish of his swollen tongue and +unbalanced brain.</p> + +<p>Sergeant Newton Spooner had silently entered the office in response to +the major's summons. Now, he stood at attention just within the +threshold, and his eyes were not pleasant eyes as he gazed on the +threshing, disfigured thing, and recognized in him a kinsman. But, if +his face was hard-set and lustful for vengeance, it was hardly more so +than that of the battalion commander, standing by as the surgeon forced +brandy between the teeth of the wrecked face. The physician finally rose +with a shake of his head.</p> + +<p>"It's no use," he announced briefly. "He can't last two hours."</p> + +<p>But to the object of erstwhile human shape came a momentary flash of +revival. He tried to prop himself on one elbow and waved his torn +fingers toward the mountains. From his mouth came incoherent sounds, and +in his eyes burned the desperation of a final effort to rid himself of +some message. Then he reached his hand around to his neck, and they saw +that he bore, pinned to his belt, a package wrapped in the red calico of +which <i>tao</i> breeches are fashioned.</p> + +<p>They removed it, and opened the covering, to find inside a communication +of the sort that scrapes the civilization from men as a coarse cloth +scrapes the tender blush from a peach.</p> + +<p>"This memento we return with compliments," ran the screed in neatly +penned Spanish. "The rest will be dealt with as befits foes of the +Republic. If you follow you will find at Santa Rosa another memento.</p> + +<p>"<i>Adios, con mucho felicidad</i>, General José Rosario."</p> + +<p>Major Falkins wheeled to Sergeant Newton Spooner. His face was very +white and stony. "Have your company ready to hike—quick!" His words +were snapped out like the cracks of a mule-whip; but Sergeant Newton +Spooner had saluted and disappeared before the final syllable was +uttered.</p> + +<p>Within the hour, Mrs. Henry Falkins stood at the shell-paned window of +the bungalow and saw the company swinging toward the edge of town with a +step that argued coming events. At their head, guiding them into the +blind trails of the <i>bosque</i>, went a native from the village, but he +went with a rope around his shoulders, which was held by a sturdy +private of the advance guard. There was no intention that he should +abruptly disappear into the jungle and carry warning, instead of giving +service as guide.</p> + +<p>At noon the next day, the column had proof that thus far at least they +were following the right trail. The overhead wheeling of buzzards would +have guided them now, even had the native failed of loyalty.</p> + +<p>In the gulch of a stream that ran between tall and tangled banks, the +advance came upon the bodies of the two men who had comprised the +"point," and who had first run into the ambuscade. What the other ten +had done was plain enough. At that first outbreak, they had scattered +into a second slough, running at right angles with the dipping trail. +There they had lain down and taken cover among the scattered rocks, and +there eight of them still lay. It was the only thing they could do, also +it was what the enemy had planned they should do. Major, lieutenant, and +sergeant went over the ground and read the signs. It was quite easy. +They could tell the approximate order in which each had died, by +counting the litter of empty cartridge-hulls about the bodies.</p> + +<p>Then they found one pile of these spent souvenirs in a place where there +was no corpse, and it was perhaps the largest pile of all. That should +be the spot where Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner had come to bay for his +last stand. Probably he had lost consciousness from blood-letting at the +end. Otherwise, he would hardly have been taken alive.</p> + +<p>The bodies were hurriedly buried, and the graves marked; then the column +pushed on, a little grimmer and a little more silent and a little +faster, toward Santa Rosa.</p> + +<p>At dawn, the men of the 26th Volunteers filed into empty streets which +echoed their marching tread. It was like a village of the dead, a place +of empty houses and open doors. No one had waited to explain to the +wrathful avengers. But they found, nailed conspicuously to the front of +a nipa shack in the principal street, a large white sheet of paper, +bearing another note of satiric directions.</p> + +<p>"On the trail which leads from this street, the <i>bosque</i> will, at the +distance of one league, contain one more memento.</p> + +<p>"<i>Adios, con mucho felicidad</i>, General José Rosario."</p> + +<p>There was no spoken word, as Falkins, turning from the message, nodded +to the company commander, and the column swung forward. There was no +sound as they marched through the deserted street, except the rattle of +cup and canteen on haversack and the purposeful thud of their own feet +on the hard-beaten earth.</p> + +<p>And beyond the edge of the town, where a sullen-looking carabao bull, +sole occupant, gazed after them, there was still grim silence as they +plunged into the thick growth of the <i>bosque</i> and bored their way into +the country, which at every mile was growing wilder and more impassable. +The eight bodies they had buried, and the one which had doubtless been, +by this time, buried back at the garrison, accounted for seventy-five +per cent. of the detachment which had gone ahead. The three others +included Lieutenant Sperry, of Jackson, and Sergeant-Major Peter +Spooner, and those two had been taken alive. The column was so grim in +its purpose now that it needed no more orders than blood-hounds would +have required.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + + +<p>At a place where they came upon the ashes of a dead fire, Henry Falkins +halted the command, and, accompanied by a lieutenant and Sergeant Newton +Spooner, undertook some investigations of his own. It was Sergeant +Spooner, led by an inborn instinct which became a compass in the woods, +who discovered the thing they sought. He returned in grim silence to the +officers, and led them to a small clearing in the <i>bijuca</i> tangle. +There, roped upright to a tree, was a body wearing the uniform of a +first lieutenant of United States Infantry. Newt Spooner had found the +"memento." The dead man bore no bolo gashes, and the wound which had +disabled him had been only a bullet through one shoulder. Yet, as the +officers came near, they realized that he had not been dead when he was +placed here. He had stood up, lashed against a slender palm bole, and +died on his feet. Yet even that failed to account for the hideous twist +of acute agony frozen on the dead features. No ordinary torture would +have so stamped the dying visage of such a stoic. The large brown ants +were crawling everywhere, but the full meaning of their presence was to +pass unrealized until Newton Spooner attracted attention. He silently +led them closer and pointed to an amber smear about the lips and +nostrils of the dead man.</p> + +<p>"Honey, sir," he said briefly, in a voice that rasped like a file; "wild +honey. They put that stuff in his nose and mouth, sir. The ants did the +rest."</p> + +<p>The officers turned away, sickened, and after a moment Falkins ordered +briefly.</p> + +<p>"Bring a burial detail, sergeant—and, sergeant," he added, as a vicious +note crept into the timbre of his utterance, "when we come up with these +fellows, we take no prisoners. You understand, no prisoners!"</p> + +<p>For ten days after that, a company of United States Volunteers drove +their way through the mountains and <i>bosques</i> of eastern Luzon, +with the hammer-blows of forced marches. Their faces were the bristling, +unshaven visages of half-wild men, and their eyes bore the inky +cancellation-marks of a fatigue which, in such climates, is courtship of +death. They had been bearing a noonday steam-like heat that parboiled +them and wasted them in floods of sweat. They had marched and slept in +wet khaki when sudden rains drenched the land and the jungle simmered +afterward. A demoniacal desire for a reckoning in full with one José +Rosario sustained them. The chase had resolved itself into a hellish +adaptation of hare and hound, for always ahead of them lay clews and +information, and evidences of recent departures. Always, the wily +guerilla was just out of grasping and crushing distance. In lonely +villages, they found marks of his recent occupancy—with prisoners. In +the hills, they found the ashes of his fires, but himself they never +found. And, as he taunted them, they followed, "as dust-blown devils +go": followed with an artificial and superhuman endurance engendered of +mountain hate and an unassuaged thirst for vengeance. In many brains +queer nightmare shapes rose and had to be brushed aside with a conscious +effort, and in many veins the blood ran hot and feverish. The pursuit +had carried them in a long circle like the flight of a fox, and brought +them back to a point not so many miles from where they had entered the +hills, but as far as ever from their quarry. The pursuing force was too +large. The rest of the way they would rake <i>bosque</i> and hill in +scattered segments, each acting for itself and seeking to fall upon the +enemy while he watched the decoy of the largest detachment.</p> + +<p>Major Falkins and a dozen men, including First Sergeant Newton Spooner, +were working their way through a jungle which seemed impervious to human +progress. For days they had been so working. Step by step they moved +lethargically, and in single file. No military order of formation can be +kept unbroken where men are weaving their tired bodies in and out +through a matted growth of rank <i>bijuca</i> and jungle tangles. Besides, +they moved as men half-asleep and indifferent to consequences, dragging +leaden feet. The course they had taken had yielded never a sign, never +an indication that they had chosen wisely. It led them through an +unpeopled country where the valleys were mosquito-infested and +malaria-ridden, and where drenching rains brought chill to their aching +bones. They forced themselves forward with their hair matted and their +brains dull. Clouds of mosquitoes moved with them. They were steadfast +and resolute men, but they were also half-insane.</p> + +<p>In this fashion, they came to a small, ravine-like channel, which for a +little way ran in the direction they wished to go. Through it they could +walk upright without fighting vines and cane. Experience had taught the +danger of easy ways, but weariness had overcome caution, and for a +furlong they plodded silently.</p> + +<p>Ahead of them, the dry stream-bed, which was giving them momentary +comfort as a roadway, twisted at an angle. Even in their lethargy they +observed one rule of military caution. They walked in file with an +interval of several yards between each two. Eleven of them had passed +out of sight around the turn. Major Falkins, who was number twelve, was +just turning the point, and behind him trailed one other. It was +Sergeant Spooner, who rarely lagged in the rear. Then the heavy +stillness broke into the old familiar thunder, and four men lurched +forward and crumpled down on their faces, as useless henceforth to the +United States of America as burst bubbles.</p> + +<p>"Back here, boys!" yelled Falkins, leaping out of his lethargy into +sudden life.</p> + +<p>"Git behind this twist—damn ye! Git into ther la'rel!" shrieked +Sergeant Spooner in echo, forgetting that the natural cover of the +Islands was not the laurel of the Cumberlands. Falkins, standing at the +turn, became an instant target, and the sergeant saw his campaign hat +fly off spinning; saw the officer set his feet farther apart as one who +braces himself, and heard the spiteful bark of his revolver. The +sergeant himself was unseen, and it suddenly occurred to him that he +might be more effective by remaining so. He saw the men who were still +on their feet falling back on the protecting angle with its steep banks, +firing doggedly as they came, and one by one he saw them drop short of +their goal, except two who reached it only to lie down at the margin of +shelter. He saw the major stand for a moment, shaking his head as the +voices of the Krags died away and only the Remingtons of the enemy broke +the silence.</p> + +<p>Then the major, who no longer had a command, stepped back around the +angle, and sat down on the ground. He laid his pistol on his knees and +wiped blood from his eyes, but, after a moment, as though that posture +were not comfortable enough, he stretched quietly out, with one elbow +under his cheek, and drew up his knees as a child might lie in a crib +when its mother has kissed it good-night. Spooner realized that he alone +of that detail remained an efficient. There was no one to save except +himself—and Falkins. To save himself was easy. He had not yet been +seen.</p> + +<p>Cautiously, the sergeant crawled over and possessed himself of all the +firearms that lay in reach, without revealing himself; then again he +crawled back, burrowing under the overhanging bank. He laid the four +Krags in a row with their muzzles roughly trained above the major's +body, and waited. At his back rose a bank which would confuse and +multiply with echoes any sound.</p> + +<p>Finally, the cautious brown heads appeared, and brown bodies flitted +among the dead, collecting their spoils. Then Newt cupped both hands at +his lips, and let out the mountain yell, a yell which had grown famous +in Luzon. At the same instant, as fast as he could work the triggers +lying grouped before him, he made the rifles speak from their magazines, +as it seemed in unison, and the four reports were magnified by the rocks +into a seeming of volley-fire. Instantly and in frenzied consternation, +the brown men disappeared, and Newt Spooner worked his way forward, +firing as fast as he could until he could peer into the channel. But the +white men there would require no attention, and could benefit by none +save the impossible courtesy of burial. As for the brown men, they were +gone.</p> + +<p>In one body, however, there was still life, and that happened to be the +body of the battalion commander.</p> + +<p>Newton Spooner strapped as many cartridge-belts about himself as he +could carry. Then he pressed his canteen to the lips of Major Falkins, +and began a slow and tedious journey back toward a point ten miles to +the east, where if all went well and every chance favored him, he might +possibly strike the camp of the main detachment to-morrow afternoon. +To-morrow afternoon! For once in his life, Newton Spooner laughed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>That night, Major Falkins did not die, but lay raving with a delirium of +fever in the seclusion of the jungle whither the "non-com" had borne +him. And, while he lay tossing, a dark figure sat huddled near-by, +lethargically slapping at mosquitoes and bringing himself back with +heart-breaking effort out of the heavy-lidded temptation of sleep. The +man who so sat, grinned from time to time, and there was the queer, +distorted quality of madness in the grin.</p> + +<p>When Henry Falkins at last opened his eyes, he saw about him only the +dense tangle of the forest, and heard only the bird-voices in the trees. +Slowly a recollection of yesterday came to his mind. He tried to rise on +his elbow, and discovered his feet were tight-bound. Evidently he had +been captured and was now being carried off by the ingenious Rosario to +be filed away for future torture. Then he heard a sound like a strained +chuckle, and turned his eyes, to find himself gazing into a grinning, +lunatic face, which was the face of Sergeant Newton Spooner.</p> + +<p>"Where are we, sergeant?" he inquired with forced composure. "Why am I +tied up?"</p> + +<p>The sergeant's reply was a hyena-like laugh, under which his gums were +exposed beyond his teeth.</p> + +<p>"I reckon," he suggested slowly, "ye mout es well drop the sergeant part +of hit. Thar's jest the two of us left, and hit won't be long twell +thar's jest one."</p> + +<p>The wounded battalion commander settled back on the ground and said +nothing. The demoniacal face of the other was not a face that could be +reasoned with. It was the face of a man whose unhinged reason was +capable of anything but sanity.</p> + +<p>"Ye penitentiaried me oncet," went on the sergeant in dead-voiced +reiteration of an old theme. "Ye sent me thar when ye didn't have +nothin' erginst me. In the penitensherry—" he talked on +half-coherently, half-ramblingly—"a feller jest studies 'bout things +and gits meaner—and hyar hit 'pears like he kin git meaner yit."</p> + +<p>"You must have dragged me away from that ravine," interrupted Falkins, +realizing that they were not where he had fallen, and reasoning rather +with himself than with the other. "You saved me yesterday. Why did you +do that?"</p> + +<p>"Because," retorted the other quickly, with a fierce up-leaping of +passion to his eyes, "because I was savin' my superior officer—not you, +but a man in that uniform—besides ye b'longed ter me. I wasn't a-goin' +ter suffer no nigger ter git ye. Thet would hev been a soldier's death. +Now thar's jest two of us—we ain't soldiers now—we're jest men."</p> + +<p>Falkins lay of necessity outstretched, awaiting the pleasure of his +captor. About him swarmed mosquitoes, and he tossed his head in the vain +effort to shake them off, and slapped viciously at them—for with his +feet trussed there had been no necessity to tie his hands. Above him he +could see patches of blue between the waving palm fronds, and to his +fevered eyes the sky seemed to rock and ripple like a placid sea. Then +he looked at the other soldier, standing at a distance, and the soldier, +too, seemed to wave gently from head to foot as though painted on a +fluttering curtain, but he read in the glowering face that the man meant +to kill him.</p> + +<p>"You fool!" he muttered. "You poor damned fool!"</p> + +<p>He spoke in a voice of lassitude, as though his interest in the matter +were academic and dilute. In his brain, the tide of fever was rising +afresh, and this time it stole on him with the warmth of a comfortable +narcotic.</p> + +<p>But Newt Spooner went on, more steadily now, though with no faltering of +determination.</p> + +<p>"I've waited the hell of a time.... I told ye my chanst would come.... I +told ye, when ye tried ter play a damn' hero there at 'Frisco, thet I'd +git my chanst. Ef I'd kilt ye then, ye'd hev hed all ther best of hit, +but now hit's different. Now I kin make ye pray fer mercy—an' not git +none."</p> + +<p>"Kill me, and be damned to you!" snapped the bound man, for a moment +roused out of growing stupor into a peevish irritability. "I'm no more +afraid of you now than I was then."</p> + +<p>"I reckon," the boy spoke very deliberately and impressively, "I reckon +I knows a way ter make ye skeered." It had been a long time now since +Newton Spooner had talked in the uncouth vernacular of the hills, but +the Newt Spooner of this morning was, it seemed, a man relapsed; a man +from whom had slipped all the changes that the months had wrought. He +came slowly and unsteadily over, and squatted on his haunches above the +prostrate figure. He drew one hand from behind him, and held it out.</p> + +<p>"I found a wild bee gum down thar," he went on in a dead, level tone. +"This hyar's wild honey. Thet-thar idee of givin' the ants a party +hain't so damned bad atter all, is it?"</p> + +<p>The major rolled over and presented his back to his enemy. He laughed +and his tormentor did not know that it was the laughter of +uncomprehending delirium. To Newt, it seemed a misplaced sense of humor.</p> + +<p>"Wake me up for breakfast," murmured the major. "I want to take a nap +now."</p> + +<p>Later, Falkins awoke to a lucid interval, and saw nothing of his mad +companion. But gradually his mind began to collect scattered fragments +of memory, and the thing he had laughed at rose up to torture him. He +remembered the threat now, and he remembered the dead face of the man +they had found tied to a tree. He lay alone, shivering in weakness and +harried by a terror he would not have cared to confess. An ant crawled +over one wrist, and he leaped up, choking off a wild scream. It seemed +that he could feel them crawling and stinging in thousands through his +nostrils and nibbling at his brain. His fever would return, but for the +present he lay sane and clammy with chill.</p> + +<p>When the cool of the evening came, Newt reappeared. But his face, too, +had lost its maniac glare. It was the face now of a man unutterably +weary—as though all day he had been in some great travail.</p> + +<p>"I reckon we mout as well be hikin'. Kin ye walk?" he inquired curtly.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to walk," retorted the officer belligerently. "This is as +good a place to die as any."</p> + +<p>"I ain't goin' ter hurt you," said Newt Spooner in a tired voice. "I +reckon the time ain't come yet, after all."</p> + +<p>"When will it come?" demanded the other, amazed beyond belief at this +sudden change of front.</p> + +<p>"Thet's my business. I hates you worse than pizen ... but I can't hurt +you while we're both wearin' this uniform. It beats hell how much a man +gets to thinkin' about a damn' pair of government breeches!" He stopped +off as if in embarrassment. Then he added: "Besides, I'm beholden to +your wife. She gave me a lift once on the high-road."</p> + +<p>Two days later, just as the platoon, flushed with a success which the +others had missed, was preparing to break camp for the day's march, two +men, both gibbering foolishly, both shambling on unsteady feet, +tattered, thorn-torn and scalded with fever, dragged themselves, in the +locked embrace of drunken men, up into sight of the outposts, and +collapsed. One wore a major's uniform, and one had on his sleeve what +was left of a sergeant's chevrons.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + + +<p>The policy of splitting the command into bits, and leaving one platoon +to carry on the seeming of the full force, had brought both disaster and +success. The main body had taken a middle course upon which the smaller +details might—theoretically—fall back, and on either side squads had +scouted. While the men under Falkins were being misled and trapped, +another detachment had slipped fortuitously upon a scouting party of the +enemy, and, being less fatigued by reason of an easier course, they were +stealing through the <i>bosque</i> with unabated caution, and not one of that +scouting party escaped alive except two who were captured. The +detachment rejoined the platoon, and in view of the spirit in which the +main command received these prisoners, they finally laid aside their +show of sullen stubbornness and talked volubly.</p> + +<p>Not only did they talk, under the effective persuasion of their captors, +but they acted. They agreed to lead the <i>Americanos</i> to the camp of +General Rosario, which they said was pitched in a particularly +inaccessible part of the mountains only a day's march away. Then the +command, which had for so long been following a fox-fire, rose up, +invigorated by the prospect of final success, and all day they slipped +forward through trails which they could not have found alone. They +marched with the swiftness of the final spurt, and at nightfall lay +under cover, feasting their eyes on a column of smoke which rose from a +canyon where the enemy lay in fancied security. The captives had done +their work well, once they had undertaken it, but the onslaught must be +sudden. There must be no time given to slaughter the American prisoners +whom Rosario was carrying north with him as a present for Aguinaldo.</p> + +<p>They could but admire the sagacity with which the enemy had selected his +lair. They must attack through two high-walled gorges where machine-guns +waited to mow them down. But the <i>Americanos</i> meant to reach those guns +before they were discovered, and after that the impregnable strong-hold +would become a trap without exits.</p> + +<p>The column had therefore divided, each section taking a guide. The +guides, with bayonets at their backs as reminders of their mission, had +gone forward and with passwords bespoken the sentries, whose voices had +been choked off in the pitchy darkness before they could give outcry.</p> + +<p>Then came the mountain yell, but it came only from the narrower gorge, +and it was accompanied by musketry which the steep walls echoed and +re-echoed. The flood of flight surged into a wave of disorganized rout +toward the other opening—where it fell back in broken spray from volley +and bayonet. Useless now were the machine-guns; worse than useless the +impregnable walls of rock. The insurgent forces, remembering their red +iniquities, asked no terms or quarter, but hurled themselves on the +bayonets and went down in the close chaos of bolo and clubbed musket. +"And luckiest of them that fell, were those of them that died."</p> + +<p>It was a little keyhole picture of red and black inferno, while it +lasted, but it did not last long.</p> + +<p>Yet, of General Rosario and his white prisoners there was no trace. That +wily leader had gone on with a small escort before nightfall, and no one +was left to tell what direction he had taken.</p> + +<p>So it happened that when the two survivors of the ambuscade came +tottering into the camp which they had hoped to reach much sooner, they +found the main detachment just leaving. Had it not been belated by the +delay of the successful expedition into the hills, it would have passed +this point twenty-four hours ago, and the half-dead refugees would have +been too late.</p> + +<p>It had taken Henry Falkins and Newt Spooner two days instead of one to +cover that ten miles of <i>bosque</i>. They had come staggering, sometimes +gibbering, and rarely were both of them sane. Sometimes they raved in +duet, but during the first day Newt kicked and pummeled his superior +forward as long as he could walk. After that, he carried, dragged and +rolled the limp figure, obsessed only by the fixed idea that he had a +package to deliver somewhere "over yon." Frequently he forgot that the +package was a thing of life. Frequently, too, he madly beat it and swore +at it, but always he worked it forward, falling time after time to rise +again and stumble ahead. Then Newton Spooner became a thing without +consciousness, and a faint spark of realization flickered back into the +murk of the major's brain, and laid on his sick soul the same necessity. +That day, or part of it, he dragged and carried and kicked. At last, +with neither fully conscious, they linked arms about each other's +shoulders, gazed at each other with wild, agonized eyes, mumbled at each +other with swollen tongues, and shambled, crawled and hitched along +together.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Between two cots in the village at the mountains' edge the wife of Major +Falkins vibrated like a pendulum for several days, and when the +commanding officer's tongue became again a thing which he could lift and +command he told her of his rescue by the boy who had taken a blood-oath +against him, but he told nothing of the episode in which the sergeant +had debated the fulfilment of his vow.</p> + +<p>Later, when the company had marched back to its headquarters in the town +with the church, Mrs. Falkins drew a glowing picture of heroism in a +letter which she wrote home to the States. The colonel, her father, in +due time received it, and it found its way into news column and +editorial, and was duly read by many persons.</p> + +<p>"Clem's gal," no longer at the mountain college, but studying at the +State University in Lexington with the scholarship that she had won, was +one of the many. She read in the little dormitory room overlooking the +quiet campus. She had come here to prepare herself for a return to the +mountain school as a teacher, and when next she went back to the +Cumberlands the paper went with her, that the prophet might have honor +at home.</p> + +<p>It was October, and she had been summoned by the illness of her +step-mother. Now, as the girl rode along the creek-bed roads, the hills +were flaunting their watch-fires of autumn, and the horizon wore its +veil of Indian-summer softness. Clem had met her in Jackson with his +nag, and she was riding, mountain-fashion, on a pillion behind him. Her +father was battered and disheveled, and about his clothes clung the +smoke-house odor of the windowless cabin with its log fire, but there +also clung about the vaulting slopes and ruggedly beautiful ravines the +fragrance of the fall, and the girl could not find it in her heart to +feel gloomy, even though she was exchanging the wholesome life of the +university for the squalor of the cabin. Thanks to Newt, she had her +room, where she could withdraw as into her own castle. She felt almost +gay, and, as she thought of the room which a rude, sullen-eyed boy had +reared for her with his calloused hands, her eyes grew soft like the +horizons. That boy, too, had been away into the world, and had become a +hero. Presumably he was mending his broken life.</p> + +<p>The old horse plodded slowly and sometimes the girl slipped down and +walked alongside. Clem had little conversation after he had told how +"porely" the step-mother was. "He reckoned hit all come about from +gittin' dew-pizened." But, as they made the trip, the girl recited to +him the news from the far-away islands.</p> + +<p>The man listened stolidly, and at the end inquired:</p> + +<p>"Did I onderstand ye rightly, M'nervy? War Henry Falkins ther feller he +saved?"</p> + +<p>When the information was confirmed, he ejaculated in wonderment:</p> + +<p>"Well, doggone my ornery skin! Hit seems like jest yestiddy thet Newty +lit out acrost these-hyar hills, hell-bent on lay-wayin' Henry Falkins +fer a-penitensheryin' him."</p> + +<p>Then Minerva remembered the lad's face when she had told of Henry +Falkins awarding her medal, and for the first time she understood.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Back in the town with the church the months went by with routine of +garrison duty and periods of fevered activity.</p> + +<p>The energetic Rosario had for a time lain dormant after the paralyzing +blow which had obliterated so large a portion of his command, but as the +natives began to evince a growing confidence in the protecting hand of +the American government, the general bestirred himself, and once more +tidings of his atrocities drifted into headquarters. During these months +there passed between Sergeant Newton Spooner and his major no reference +to the morning in the jungle when the last echo of the old threat had +found expression.</p> + +<p>It was as though, on this subject, the lips of each were sealed by oath, +but Sergeant Spooner went about his work with a smart and soldierly +alacrity that kept the men of his company always on their toes. When +there was trying work to do the commanding officer found himself +instinctively turning to that company, and since the company responded +to its top-sergeant like a muscle to a nerve, that meant that he turned +to Newton Spooner.</p> + +<p>Then came an epidemic of outrage.</p> + +<p>Villages with <i>Americanista presidentes</i> went up in smoke. Haciendas of +loyal Spaniards and Ilacanos were raided, and their people put to the +bolo. With the wild stories of Rosario's activity that drifted in, there +came persistently the fame of a white man who stood at the Filipino's +right hand, giving him counsel. The rumor added that this man was a +deserter from the American army. The truth or falsity of that allegation +did not particularly interest the 26th Volunteer Infantry. The 26th from +its Shirt-tailed beginnings had been stainless of the reproach of +desertion. If other commands had been less fortunate it was not their +affair. But it was very much their affair that, when they ran down a +band of guerillas and closed with them, they encountered more numerous +casualties, because someone had been teaching the brown men how to fight +and shoot as they had never in their lives fought and shot before.</p> + +<p>It very closely concerned the 26th Volunteer Foot that the game of war +was being taught their foes by a renegade who had learned it under +their own colors.</p> + +<p>But the insult, set upon injury, came one day with a grim humor that was +to have an even grimmer sequel.</p> + +<p>The telegraph operator at a near-by village was passing the time of day +with the S. C. man at the headquarters key. Suddenly the instrument went +dead with a splutter, and, while the headquarters operator tested and +cursed, it remained stubbornly dumb. The line had been cut again.</p> + +<p>Before a detachment could be despatched to follow the wire to the break, +the instrument set up a buzz, and the buzz became Morse code. As the +astonished operator read the dots and dashes this message was clicked +out to him: "General José Rosario, in passing, presents his compliments +and hopes to report other mementos in near future."</p> + +<p>Obviously the wire had been grounded and the message sent by the enemy +himself at some point where he had tapped it with a field-transmitter. +That must be the work of the renegade—presumably a Signal Code +deserter, and yet though the <i>bosque</i> was combed for days by peeved and +eager soldiery, no sign of a hostile force was found. Newton Spooner and +a squad of scouting men came upon a muddy spot in the <i>bijuca</i> tangle +where a number of feet had trod, and, though the top-sergeant noted the +print of a service boot, he said nothing of the circumstance—at the +time.</p> + +<p>But while Newt said nothing he thought much. Keeping to himself, he was +fighting a battle which one way or the other must prove decisive in his +nature. He knew that he was facing a conclusion which could not be +lightly turned aside, and which could not be met without harrowing his +soul. To fail to face a certain specter which had unexpectedly arisen +would be to brand himself in the tribunal of his own inner consciousness +as a traitor to the service. To face it and accept the consequences that +might, and probably would, arise, would be to put behind him and trample +under foot the code of the mountains, and to confess that all his +preconceived ideas of life had been distorted and without value.</p> + +<p>Two deep-rooted impulses were wrestling with a ferocity that made the +boy's soul a battle-ground, torn, scarred and utterly miserable. The +chaplain had preached a sermon on Golgotha, and had told how the Master +had gone to the Place of a Skull, and had fought there with the spirit. +Newton Spooner was not the man for prayer or fasting, yet he fasted +because his palate revolted against the rations, in the torture of +indecision that racked him.</p> + +<p>And as he could not eat, so also he could not sleep and the wide eyes +which stared at the walls beyond his cot were eyes that burned with +feverish misery. Whether or not one is to become an Iscariot is a +problem that must bring its agony, an agony beyond the appeasement of +thirty pieces of silver. But when the problem so complicates itself that +instead of being merely a problem it is a dilemma, and not only a +dilemma, but the dilemma of choosing between proving an Iscariot to +one's code or to one's country, the matter is one which may well +unbalance a brain already depleted and jumbled of perspective by +steaming jungles and the assaults of the tropics on one's sanity.</p> + +<p>There was no one to whom Sergeant Spooner could go for counsel. To every +man comes one black night that tests the metal of his soul, and makes or +brands him with its result. It is a night when the furies ride +shrieking, and when the border between the man and the madman wavers. He +may not know it, but the dawn that comes at the end of such a night +breaks on a soul that has accepted its damnation or has liberated itself +and transformed itself.</p> + +<p>About the garrison, Sergeant Newton Spooner bore a face in which the +eyes were sunken and about whose lips ran deep lines of travail. In his +duties he was prompt and smart, but that was the ingrained training, +which had reached a state where it responded automatically to routine. +As he tossed on his cot, he suffered agonies and when he fell asleep it +was not for rest, but for nightmare. His dreams were harassed with a +bitter problem and what the end was to be hung in the balance. Dreams +are precarious and lawless, yet it was in the end a dream which decided +him.</p> + +<p>Just before he was aroused one morning he fell into a feverish slumber, +following a wakeful night, and to him, as to many men before him, a +vision came.</p> + +<p>Minerva seemed to stand before the regimental band at dress-parade. She +waved the flag and said, in a voice which no one else heard:</p> + +<p>"The soldier serves his colors."</p> + +<p>It happened that about the same time the <i>mestiza</i> girl whom +Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner had honored with his attentions, before he +had fallen into the villainous hands of Rosario, came back to the town. +She did not remain long, and her face was sad. She had come, she +confided to Mrs. Falkins, hoping to see the great, brave soldier, and, +when she was told of how he had died, her sobs tore her until the +spectacle of her grief was insupportable.</p> + +<p>Then Newton Spooner did an unprecedented thing. Unversed as he was in +the ways of courtship, he dogged the steps of the <i>mestiza</i> girl, +fetching and carrying for her with doglike devotion.</p> + +<p>And, since he was willing, instead of pressing his own suit, to sing the +praises of the late sergeant-major, she let him sit at the threshold of +her nipa house, and gaze at her while she sewed. When she went away and +Sergeant Spooner asked a brief leave of absence to accompany her on a +part of her return journey, the men of the garrison shook their heads +and announced that they would be damned.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + + +<p>Newt Spooner was gone a week, though he had only announced it as his +purpose to escort the girl as far as a near-by village.</p> + +<p>In three days more, according to the articles of war, his name must be +dropped from the company roll, and his status become that of death or +desertion. Even if he came back at once, he must face the lesser charge +of absence beyond leave.</p> + +<p>When the sergeant did return, he bore the marks of jungle travel, and as +he reported to his company commander, his face indicated that his +explanation would not be merely personal.</p> + +<p>Yet Sergeant Spooner was secretive, and asked permission to guide a +small force into the hills. He said that he had come upon evidence which +would not wait, and he had, therefore, taken the liberty of following it +up independently. He believed he could lead a detachment to a place +where a party of insurgents were in hiding, and—at this his captain sat +up and took notice—although it was a small party, he had information +which led him to believe the renegade might be one of the number.</p> + +<p>But for such an enterprise Newton Spooner's superiors required no +urging. The sergeant said that no considerable force could hope to reach +the place unheralded, so two picked squads stole out that same evening, +and before dawn of the third day (for they marched only at night and lay +hidden while the sun shone) were creeping through the long grass upon a +native farm where two nipa houses proclaimed the presence of humanity. +They crept cautiously, for though the place had all the seeming of +private and peaceful domiciles, they had learned to distrust appearances +and to trust Sergeant Newt Spooner's judgment. The spot was very wild +and desolate, lying remote from any village. In the gray mists between +night and morning it seemed a land of ghosts, with broken hills and +jungle closing about it.</p> + +<p>As daylight crept to the east, soldiers stood silent and patient at each +door and window of each house. It was a strange disposition of troops +about thatched houses that lay soundless and wrapped in profound +slumber. The lieutenant who had come in command stood at the right of +the front door of the larger house, and over against him, on the left, +stood Newt Spooner. But each stood with back pressed to wall, so +flattened against the uprights that, in that dim light, one coming out +of the door would pass them by unseeing. And at each of the other +openings the watchers were likewise flattened as though they had been +figures in bas-relief fantastically wrought by the builder.</p> + +<p>They stood without sound or movement, until, as the light strengthened a +little, the door opened and a <i>mestiza</i> girl in slippered feet and +partial attire came out, carrying an earthen water-vessel. As she +crossed the threshold, looking neither to right nor left, New Spooner's +tight-pressed palm shot out and silenced her carmine lips. The officer +recognized the girl. He had himself recently turned away unable to watch +her sobs for her dead lover, and now he felt an impulse to resent this +rough indignity at the hands of the sergeant. But something in the +sergeant's face gave him pause, and at the same moment Newt Spooner +sternly whispered to his prisoner in Spanish:</p> + +<p>"Call him—call him, I tell you!"</p> + +<p>For an instant, the girl stood trembling from head to foot, with dumb +agony in her eyes. It was evident that she was facing the hardest crisis +of her life, and that terror was dominant. As Newt bent forward with +threatening hardness in his relentless face, she shrank back against the +wall, bowing her head in forced assent, and with the soldier's strong +hand still close enough to stifle any unwished-for outcry, she called in +quavering, heart-broken Spanish:</p> + +<p>"Beloved, come to me. Come <i>pronto</i>!"</p> + +<p>There followed, at once, a sound of bare feet from inside, and a +gigantic, half-clad figure appeared anxiously at the door. It was the +figure of a white man; and, as the lieutenant caught its shoulder, and +threw his revolver muzzle to its broad chest, he found himself looking +into the grave eyes of former Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner, late of the +26th Volunteers.</p> + +<p>For an instant, the officer stood too dazed to credit the testimony of +his eyes, but, while the Deacon glanced down the barrel of Newt's +leveled rifle, and shrugged his shoulders with a low oath, the officer +realized that he had under his hand the mysterious renegade.</p> + +<p>And then, as the deserter, still gazing into the flinty face of his +kinsman, raised his hands in surrender, he coolly turned toward the +house, and shouted back in excellent Spanish:</p> + +<p>"General, we are captives. Resistance is useless."</p> + +<p>In answer to that message, there shortly appeared, framed in the door, +the startled countenance of the notorious Rosario himself. Once too +often, he had trusted himself with those inconsiderable escorts which +had enabled him to pass from place to place without attracting +attention.</p> + +<p>The detail made its march back to headquarters, taking its prisoners +with it, in a semi-dazed condition. Against Rosario they felt little +vindictiveness, now that he was captive to their arms. But this other, +this sergeant-major who had organized most of them into soldiery back +there in the Appalachian hills, with him there was a ghastly difference. +He had been a hero, mourned as lost. He had taken the pay of the service +and held its highest warrant—and he had been false to his salt, for +those tin bars which they roughly stripped from his shoulders.</p> + +<p>But, if the command was struck sick with astonishment, Black Pete +himself treated them to no show of emotion. He had already considered +and weighed what it meant to desert to the enemy in time of war, and he +had been taken in attendance upon the enemy's district leader, wearing +the enemy's livery. He was already, in effect, dead, and he meant to +maintain the stolid silence of death.</p> + +<p>And so the detachment marched into headquarters with the grim silence of +a funeral cortčge, though as yet the corpse walked upright and on its +own feet.</p> + +<p>No lips were tighter set, and no face more stonily expressionless than +that of Sergeant Newton Spooner. His was the capture, his the +credit—and, in part, the shame. Between himself and the man who must +hang existed the bond of one blood and one name. The smirch upon the +regiment was likewise a smirch upon that blood and name.</p> + +<p>The struggle in himself had begun from the moment when he found the +print of a large boot in the mud, and the disgrace to the service and +the regiment had come home to him ... the one form of disgrace which he +had ever understood. But the mental sweat was not yet over. It must have +its ugly culmination at general court-martial, and when that time came +he, Newt Spooner, must say the words upon which conviction would +indubitably follow. He knew that in its hideous fulness, had known it +from the start, and yet, when the hour came and he took the stand to +testify, no voice could have been steadier, and no gaze more unflinching +than that with which he held the eyes of the accused.</p> + +<p>But the gaze with which the Deacon met his was in no wise weaker. As +Black Pete listened to the proceedings in which his life-sands were +running out, his eyes were thoughtful and perhaps a shade wistful, but +undrooping, and unwavering.</p> + +<p>The defendant testified that, when he was captured, they offered him +choice between death and a captain's commission. He had chosen the +latter. They took him north, and he had talked with Aguinaldo in person. +The "President" had received him as an officer and a dignitary. He had +beguiled him with hopes of foreign recognition and a filmy vision of +ultimate success. The Deacon had held during his life one goal and one +ideal. His dream was leadership. He had tired of the warrant of the +"non-com." He wished to sit in council with men of higher rank. The +experiment had failed. He made no plea.</p> + +<p>The hearing before G.C.M. came after the regiment had left the town with +the church. It was on a larger parade ground that the united battalions +were drawn up at sunset, and the regimental adjutant stepped a pace +forward to the colonel's side and "published the order," which announced +that Peter Spooner was "to be hanged by his neck till dead."</p> + +<p>The lines stood silent as the adjutant's words were read. Black Pete at +"the front and center," to be seen of all men, presented a picture quite +as uncompromising as he had ever presented before. His contemplative +gray eyes bore straight to the front as he stood at attention, and in +them slept a thoughtful expression, as though they were looking off +beyond horizons hidden to other men, and already piercing the opaque +things of life and death.</p> + +<p>And Newt Spooner gave his company front a motionless, sternly impersonal +figure upon which to gaze. In neither condemned nor informer was there a +vestige of tremor as the officers came to the "front and center" and the +formation ended.</p> + +<p>In the wet mists of a rainy morning, they escorted Black Pete to a +scaffold around which ranged, in hollow square, the regiment he had +betrayed—and there they hanged him high as Haman. Brooding hills looked +down, rain-shrouded, and to their crests at the last moment the +condemned man raised his eyes.</p> + +<p>There was silence, save for the pelting of rain on iron roofs, until it +was broken by noise of the falling trap and the low whip-like snap of +the tautened rope. Then the burial detail went out and did its work. +Sergeant Newton Spooner returned to his routine duties with a grim +taciturnity which did not invite conversation.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was at Manila, many months later, that Major Henry Falkins again +called Sergeant Spooner to battalion headquarters, and spoke with a +certain embarrassment:</p> + +<p>"Spooner," he inquired slowly, "have you come to realize that one man +may bear testimony against another for reasons other than spite?"</p> + +<p>A slow flush, brick-red and hot, spread over the bronzed face of the +non-commissioned officer.</p> + +<p>"I've come to understand a good many things, sir," he replied gravely. +"And I've paid for learning them."</p> + +<p>"We'll be mustered out before long," suggested Henry Falkins, "but I +won't be long out of uniform, I hope. I'm going to stay in the service. +Once I promised you a chance—"</p> + +<p>Newt Spooner grinned.</p> + +<p>"I reckon the uniform's good enough for me, too, sir," he interrupted. +Then he added, with a diffidence which all expression of deep feeling +brings to the mountaineer: "I reckon, sir, as long as I can serve under +you I'll go on reënlisting."</p> + +<p>Falkins was a mountaineer, too. He hastily changed the subject.</p> + +<p>"Commissions from the ranks are going to men less capable than you—but +examinations must be passed. If you'll study, Spooner, I'd like to get +behind you and help."</p> + +<p>"I've never spoken of that to any man, sir, but I've been thinking about +it," announced the sergeant diffidently. "I've been studying for +eighteen months."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Not far from the corner of Main and Limestone Streets in Lexington, +Kentucky, and almost in the shadow of the Phoenix Hotel, a poster on the +sidewalk and a flag from an overhead window proclaimed that "Men were +wanted for the United States Army." Out of the door of the building so +decorated, one spring morning, when the trees were in delicate new +leafage, came a sergeant attached to the recruiting station. He was +selected, as many of these men are, for his soldierliness of appearance. +Such men are the best advertisement the service can use, and it uses +them.</p> + +<p>The sergeant was not overly tall, and, though spare, he was by no means +lean. His shoulders swung back squarely, and his chest, rounded and +strong like a barrel, bore on its olive-drab blouse a sharp-shooter's +cross and the Medal of Honor, which must be bestowed by an Act of +Congress.</p> + +<p>His face was clear-cut and bronzed by tropic sun and ocean winds. In +fine, as the sergeant walked to the corner, casting his eyes up and down +Limestone Street, he was an inspiriting figure of a man—and a soldier +man. He had for the time nothing better to do than to stroll, and as he +strolled a flicker of reminiscent amusement brought a pleasant grin to +his firm lips. Sergeant Newt Spooner was thinking of the black-clad, +lowering-faced boy who years ago hiked through this town, bent on +assassination.</p> + +<p>As he went along the historic street, where every square held traditions +of ante-bellum days, he began to encounter other strollers, college lads +in sweaters and caps, and college girls with books. But his eyes finally +focused their gaze on a young woman who came out of a house and also +turned up the street, walking ahead of him. She was a slim girl in +simple gingham, but in her cheeks was an apple-blossom glow and +delicacy, and her movements were informed with the lithe grace of +out-of-doors. Newt wanted to overtake and accost her. He wanted to see +if she would recognize him, changed as he was, as quickly as he had +recognized her, who was even more changed.</p> + +<p>For this girl looked like some splendid young blossom that had come to +flower in open woods, and the soldier saw, with mingled pride and +twinging jealousy, that all the boys and men who passed took off their +hats with frank ardor in their eyes. This was such a metamorphosed +Minerva that he fell into shyness and delayed announcing himself until +they had reached the stone gate-posts of the rolling campus, where, +under the maples, the macadam road wound up to the college buildings, +and the old field-gun of civil-war days looked out over the cadets' +drill-ground.</p> + +<p>There he plucked up courage to call in a low voice, "M'nervy!" and at +the mountain pronunciation, coming unexpectedly from behind, the girl +wheeled and stood for a moment, confronting him in a pretty picture of +delight and astonishment, while a warm color stole into her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Newty!" she cried, as she held out both hands in greeting. "Where in +the world did you spring from?"</p> + +<p>They stood there under the maples for a while, and the boy made her talk +of herself, and, while they talked, a man, wearing the uniform of a +lieutenant of infantry, came down the walk. He was a likeable-looking +fellow, well set-up and soldierly, but very young. From his campaign hat +to his polished puttees, he was new, new like the lately minted coin +that has not long circulated. Lieutenant March was not long from the +"Point," and he was at present stationed here as Commandant at the +University. The sergeant, with his back turned that way, was deep in +conversation with the girl, so that, as he heard a pleasant voice +saying, "How are you, Miss Rawlins," he turned just in time to see the +officer's lifted hat, and to catch the smile on his lips. But his +soldier instinct was now second nature, and in the same glance he saw +the "U.S.A." of the collar-ornaments.</p> + +<p>At once, Sergeant Newt Spooner stood at attention, his heels together +and his hand at his hat-brim in salute. The officer, too, was taking in +those things which military men observe. He saw the service stripes and +the two medals on the breast, and his eyes brightened. As he returned +the salute he cheerily inquired:</p> + +<p>"What command, sergeant?"</p> + +<p>"Fifty-ninth Infantry, sir; late of the 26th Volunteers."</p> + +<p>"Here on leave?"</p> + +<p>"Recruiting detail, sir."</p> + +<p>The officer's eyes were dwelling on the decorated breast.</p> + +<p>"Medal of Honor man," he said. "What service was that, sergeant?"</p> + +<p>The girl, whose less-trained eyes had not recognized the import of the +little metal disc, flushed with pleasure. Newt flushed, too. It irked +him to talk about himself; but the military ethics were ingrained, and +he still stood upright, and answered respectfully, but as briefly as +possible:</p> + +<p>"The islands, sir. Province of Nueva Ecija." When the lieutenant had +gone, the sergeant looked down in an embarrassed fashion at the white +road.</p> + +<p>"Minerva," he said, "I don't know whether it interests you, but I'm +studying pretty hard myself. That's why I asked for this detail. That +and one other reason. I'm only a non-commissioned officer, and you're +almost a school-teacher. I'm on the wrong side of the line, but I've +applied for an examination, and, when this term of enlistment is up I've +got a good chance of a commission." He saw her looking at his medal, and +heard her saying:</p> + +<p>"I should think you would have, Newty."</p> + +<p>"Oh," he hastened to tell her, "I mean that I've got an influential +friend, who's going to help me."</p> + +<p>"Who is that, Newty?" she demanded; and, as he answered, the young +sergeant flushed.</p> + +<p>"The best soldier in the service, Colonel Henry Falkins."</p> + +<p>The girl looked down at the pavement and then up at the tender green of +the maples. Her only reply was a low, "Oh!" but her voice said more, and +presently she added a question:</p> + +<p>"You said, Newty—" her eyes now held a challenging twinkle as she +spoke—"that there was one other reason why you asked for this—what do +you call it?—oh, yes, I know, this detail. What was that reason?"</p> + +<p>The sergeant raised his face, and held her eyes with a steady gaze, +until her own eyes fell, and her cheeks grew more rosy.</p> + +<p>"That reason," he announced boldly, "is that I want plenty of chance to +tell you what the reason is."</p> + + +<h3>THE END</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>JOHN FOX, JR'S.</h2> + +<h3>STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS</h3> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE.</i><br /> +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.</p> + +<p>The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree +that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the pine +lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and when he +finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the +<i>foot-prints of a girl</i>. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and +the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a madder +chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine."</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME</i><br /> +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.</p> + +<p>This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." It +is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which often +springs the flower of civilization.</p> + +<p>"Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he +came—he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, +seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and +mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery—a charming waif, +by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in the +mountains.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND.</i><br /> +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.</p> + +<p>The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of +moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and the +heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight." Two +impetuous young Southerners' fall under the spell of "The Blight's" +charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in the +love making of the mountaineers.</p> + +<p>Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some of +Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>GROSSET & DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS</h2> + +<h3>THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY</h3> + + +<p class="center"><i>WITHIN THE LAW.</i> By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana.<br /> +Illustrated by Wm. Charles Cooke.</p> + +<p>This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for +two years in New York and Chicago.</p> + +<p>The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge directed +against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three +years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY.</i> By Robert Carlton Brown.<br /> +Illustrated with scenes from the play.</p> + +<p>This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is suddenly +thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her dreams," where +she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers.</p> + +<p>The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in +theatres all over the world.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM.</i><br /> By David Belasco.<br /> +Illustrated by John Rae.</p> + +<p>This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield, as +Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success.</p> + +<p>The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful, +both as a book and as a play.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE GARDEN OF ALLAH.</i><br /> By Robert Hichens.</p> + +<p>This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit +barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness.</p> + +<p>It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has +been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>BEN HUR.</i><br /> A Tale of the Christ.<br /> By General Lew Wallace.</p> + +<p>The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance on a +height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. The +clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect +reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere +of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tremendous dramatic +success.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>BOUGHT AND PAID FOR.</i><br /> By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow.<br /> +Illustrated with scenes from the play.</p> + +<p>A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created an +interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid +in New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor.</p> + +<p>The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments which +show the young wife the price she has paid.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>GROSSET & DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS</h2> + +<h3>Original, sincere and courageous—often amusing—the kind that are +making theatrical history.</h3> + + +<p class="center">MADAME X.<br /> By Alexandre Bisson and J. W. McConaughy. <br />Illustrated with +scenes from the play.</p> + +<p>A beautiful Parisienne became an outcast because her husband would not +forgive an error of her youth. Her love for her son is the great final +influence in her career. A tremendous dramatic success.</p> + + +<p class="center">THE GARDEN OF ALLAH.<br /> By Robert Hichens.</p> + +<p>An unconventional English woman and an inscrutable stranger meet and +love in an oasis of the Sahara. Staged this season with magnificent cast +and gorgeous properties.</p> + + +<p class="center">THE PRINCE OF INDIA.<br /> By Lew. Wallace.</p> + +<p>A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, presenting with extraordinary +power the siege of Constantinople, and lighting its tragedy with the +warm underglow of an Oriental romance. As a play it is a great dramatic +spectacle.</p> + + +<p class="center">TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY.<br /> By Grace Miller White.<br /> Illust. by Howard +Chandler Christy.</p> + +<p>A girl from the dregs of society, loves a young Cornell University +student, and it works startling changes in her life and the lives of +those about her. The dramatic version is one of the sensations of the +season.</p> + + +<p class="center">YOUNG WALLINGFORD.<br /> By George Randolph Chester.<br /> Illust. by F. R. Gruger +and Henry Raleigh.</p> + +<p>A series of clever swindles conducted by a cheerful young man, each of +which is just on the safe side of a State's prison offence. As +"Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford," it is probably the most amusing expose of +money manipulation ever seen on the stage.</p> + + +<p class="center">THE INTRUSION OF JIMMY. <br />By P. G. Wodehouse.<br />Illustrations by Will Grefe.</p> + +<p>Social and club life in London and New York, an amateur burglary +adventure and a love story. Dramatized under the title of "A Gentleman +of Leisure," it furnishes hours of laughter to the play-goers.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>B. M. Bower's Novels</h2> + +<h3>Thrilling Western Romances</h3> + + + +<p class="center"><i>CHIP, OF THE FLYING U</i></p> + +<p>A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Della +Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. Cecil +Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is very +amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE HAPPY FAMILY</i></p> + +<p>A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen +jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find +Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many lively +and exciting adventures.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT</i></p> + +<p>A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners +who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana +ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and +the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE RANGE DWELLERS</i></p> + +<p>Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. Spirited +action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and Juliet +courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dull +page.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS</i></p> + +<p>A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author among the +cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud" +Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim +trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE LONESOME TRAIL</i></p> + +<p>"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional city +life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with the +atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large brown +eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE LONG SHADOW</i></p> + +<p>A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a +mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game of +life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from start to +finish.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE NOVELS OF STEWART EDWARD WHITE</h2> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE RULES OF THE GAME.</i><br /> Illustrated by Lajaren A. Hiller</p> + +<p>The romance of the son of "The Riverman." The young college hero goes +into the lumber camp, is antagonized by "graft" and comes into the +romance of his life.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>ARIZONA NIGHTS.</i><br /> Illus. and cover inlay by N. C. Wyeth.</p> + +<p>A series of spirited tales emphasizing some phases of the life of the +ranch, plains and desert. A masterpiece.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE BLAZED TRAIL.</i><br /> With illustrations by Thomas Fogarty.</p> + +<p>A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young man who +blazed his way to fortune through the heart of the Michigan pines.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE CLAIM JUMPERS.</i><br /> A Romance.</p> + +<p>The tenderfoot manager of a mine in a lonesome gulch of the Black Hills +has a hard time of it, but "wins out" in more ways than one.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>CONJUROR'S HOUSE.</i><br /> Illustrated Theatrical Edition.</p> + +<p class="center">Dramatized under the title of "The Call of the North."</p> + +<p>Conjuror's House is a Hudson Bay trading post where the head factor is +the absolute lord. A young fellow risked his life and won a bride on +this forbidden land.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE MAGIC FOREST.</i> <br />A Modern Fairy Tale. <br />Illustrated.</p> + +<p>The sympathetic way in which the children of the wild and their life is +treated could only belong to one who is in love with the forest and open +air. Based on fact.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE RIVERMAN.</i> <br />Illus. by N. C. Wyeth and C. Underwood.</p> + +<p>The story of a man's fight against a river and of a struggle between +honesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and shrewdness on the +other.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE SILENT PLACES.</i> <br />Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin.</p> + +<p>The wonders of the northern forests, the heights of feminine devotion, +and masculine power, the intelligence of the Caucasian and the instinct +of the Indian, are all finely drawn in this story.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE WESTERNERS.</i><br /> A story of the Black Hills that is justly placed among +the best American novels. It portrays the life of the new West as no +other book has done in recent years.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE MYSTERY.</i><br /> In collaboration with Samuel Hopkins Adams<br />0 +With illustrations by Will Crawford.</p> + +<p>The disappearance of three successive crews from the stout ship +"Laughing Lass" in mid-Pacific, is a mystery weird and inscrutable. In +the solution, there is a story of the most exciting voyage that man ever +undertook.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>STORIES OF WESTERN LIFE</h2> + + + +<p class="center"><i>RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE</i>,<br /> By Zane Grey.<br /> +Illustrated by Douglas Duer.</p> + +<p>In this picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago, we are +permitted to see the unscrupulous methods employed by the invisible hand +of the Mormon Church to break the will of those refusing to conform to +its rule.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>FRIAR TUCK</i>,<br /> By Robert Alexander Wason.<br /> +Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood.</p> + +<p class="center">Happy Hawkins tells us, in his humorous way, how Friar Tuck lived among +the Cowboys, how he adjusted their quarrels and love affairs and how he +fought with them and for them when occasion required.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE SKY PILOT</i>,<br /> By Ralph Connor.<br /> +Illustrated by Louis Rhead.</p> + +<p>There is no novel, dealing with the rough existence of cowboys, so +charming in the telling, abounding as it does with the freshest and the +truest pathos.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE EMIGRANT TRAIL</i>,<br /> By Geraldine Bonner.<br /> +Colored frontispiece by John Rae.</p> + +<p>The book relates the adventures of a party on its overland pilgrimage, +and the birth and growth of the absorbing love of two strong men for a +charming heroine.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE BOSS OF WIND RIVER</i>,<br /> By A. M. Chisholm.<br /> Illustrated by Frank Tenney +Johnson.</p> + +<p>This is a strong, virile novel with the lumber industry for its central +theme and a love story full of interest as a sort of subplot.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>A PRAIRIE COURTSHIP</i>, <br />By Harold Bindloss.</p> + +<p>A story of Canadian prairies in which the hero is stirred, through the +influence of his love for a woman, to settle down to the heroic business +of pioneer farming.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>JOYCE OF THE NORTH WOODS</i>,<br /> By Harriet T. Comstock.<br /> Illustrated by John +Cassel.</p> + +<p>A story of the deep woods that shows the power of love at work among its +primitive dwellers. It is a tensely moving study of the human heart and +its aspirations that unfolds itself through thrilling situations and +dramatic developments.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS</h2> + + +<p class="center"><i>WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE</i>,<br /> By Jean Webster.<br /> +Illustrated by C. D. Williams.</p> + +<p>One of the best stories of life in a girl's college that has ever been +written. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable +and thoroughly human.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>JUST PATTY</i>,<br />By Jean Webster.<br /> +Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.</p> + +<p>Patty is full of the joy of living, fun-loving, given to ingenious +mischief for its own sake, with a disregard for pretty convention which +is an unfailing source of joy to her fellows.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL</i>,<br />By Eleanor Gates.<br /> +With four full page illustrations.</p> + +<p>This story relates the experience of one of those unfortunate children +whose early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, seldom +seeing either parent, and famishing for natural love and tenderness. A +charming play as dramatized by the author.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM</i>,<br /> By Kate Douglas Wiggin.</p> + +<p>One of the most beautiful studies of childhood—Rebecca's artistic, +unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of +austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal +dramatic record.</p> + + +<p class="center">NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA, <br />By Kate Douglas Wiggin.<br /> +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.</p> + +<p>Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that +carry Rebecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>REBECCA MARY</i>, <br />By Annie Hamilton Donnell. <br />Illustrated by Elizabeth +Shippen Green.</p> + +<p>This author possesses the rare gift of portraying all the grotesque +little joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a +pathos that is peculiarly genuine and appealing.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>EMMY LOU</i>, Her Book and Heart,<br />By George Madden Martin.<br /> +Illustrated by Charles Louis Hinton.</p> + +<p>Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real. She +is just a bewitchingly innocent, hugable little maid. The book is +wonderfully human.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER</h2> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE HARVESTER</i><br /> +Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs</p> + +<p>"The Harvester," David Langston, is a man of the woods and fields, who +draws his living from the prodigal hand of Mother Nature herself. If the +book had nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man, with his +sure grip on life, his superb optimism, and his almost miraculous +knowledge of nature secrets, it would be notable. But when the Girl +comes to his "Medicine Woods," and the Harvester's whole sound, healthy, +large outdoor being realizes that this is the highest point of life +which has come to him—there begins a romance, troubled and interrupted, +yet of the rarest idyllic quality.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>FRECKLES.</i><br /> +Decorations by E. Stetson Crawford.</p> + +<p>Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he +takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great +Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to +the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The +Angel" are full of real sentiment.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST.</i><br /> +Illustrated by Wladyslaw T. Brenda.</p> + +<p>The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, lovable type of +the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness +towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of +her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and +unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage.</p> + +<p>It is an inspiring story of a life worth while and the rich beauties of +the out-of-doors are strewn through all its pages.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW.</i><br /> +Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp. <br />Design and decorations by Ralph +Fletcher Seymour.</p> + +<p>The scene of this charming, idyllic love story is laid in Central +Indiana. The story is one of devoted friendship, and tender +self-sacrificing love; the friendship that gives freely without return, +and the love that seeks first the happiness of the object. The novel is +brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and its pathos +and tender sentiment will endear it to all.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS</h2> + + +<p class="center"><i>LAVENDER AND OLD LACE.</i></p> + +<p>A charming story of a quaint corner of New England where bygone romance +finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of love to +the young people on the staff of a newspaper—and it is one of the +prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old fashioned love stories, * * * a +rare book, exquisite in spirit and conception, full of delicate fancy, +of tenderness, of delightful humor and spontaniety.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>A SPINNER IN THE SUN.</i></p> + +<p>Miss Myrtle Reed may always be depended upon to write a story in which +poetry, charm, tenderness and humor are combined into a clever and +entertaining book. Her characters are delightful and she always displays +a quaint humor of expression and a quiet feeling of pathos which give a +touch of active realism to all her writings. In "A Spinner in the Sun" +she tells an old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in +solitude and whose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a +mystery at the heart of the book that throws over it the glamour of +romance.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE MASTER'S VIOLIN.</i></p> + +<p>A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German virtuoso +is the reverent possessor of a genuine "Cremona." He consents to take +for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an aptitude for +technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth has led the happy, +careless life of a modern, well-to-do young American and he cannot, with +his meagre past, express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life +and all its happy phases as can the master who has lived life in all its +fulness. But a girl comes into his life—a beautiful bit of human +driftwood that his aunt had taken into her heart and home, and through +his passionate love for her, he learns the lessons that life has to +give—and his soul awakes.</p> + +<p>Founded on a fact that all artists realize.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ZANE GREY'S NOVELS</h2> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS</i><br /> +Colored frontispiece by W. Herbert Dunton.</p> + +<p>Most of the action of this story takes place near the turbulent Mexican +border of the present day. A New York society girl buys a ranch which +becomes the center of frontier warfare. Her loyal cowboys defend her +property from bandits, and her superintendent rescues her when she is +captured by them. A surprising climax brings the story to a delightful +close.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>DESERT GOLD</i><br /> +Illustrated by Douglas Duer.</p> + +<p>Another fascinating story of the Mexican border. Two men, lost in the +desert, discover gold when, overcome by weakness, they can go no +farther. The rest of the story describes the recent uprising along the +border, and ends with the finding of the gold which the two prospectors +had willed to the girl who is the story's heroine.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE</i><br /> +Illustrated by Douglas Duer.</p> + +<p>A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon +authority ruled. In the persecution of Jane Withersteen, a rich ranch +owner, we are permitted to see the methods employed by the invisible +hand of the Mormon Church to break her will.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN</i><br /> +Illustrated with photograph reproductions.</p> + +<p>This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, +known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert +and of a hunt in "that wonderful country of yellow crags, deep canons +and giant pines." It is a fascinating story.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT</i><br /> +Jacket in color. Frontispiece.</p> + +<p>This big human drama is played in the Painted Desert. A lovely girl, who +has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young New Englander. The +Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall become the second +wife of one of the Mormons—</p> + +<p>Well, that's the problem of this sensational, big selling story.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>BETTY ZANE</i><br /> +Illustrated by Louis F. Grant.</p> + +<p>This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful +young sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. Life +along the frontier, attacks by Indians, Betty's heroic defense of the +beleaguered garrison at Wheeling, the burning of the Fort, and Betty's +final race for life, make up this never-to-be-forgotten story.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Code of the Mountains, by Charles Neville Buck + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CODE OF THE MOUNTAINS *** + +***** This file should be named 38498-h.htm or 38498-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/4/9/38498/ + +Produced by Roger Frank, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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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: The Code of the Mountains + +Author: Charles Neville Buck + +Illustrator: G. W. Gage + +Release Date: January 5, 2012 [EBook #38498] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CODE OF THE MOUNTAINS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + + THE CODE OF THE MOUNTAINS + + BY CHARLES NEVILLE BUCK + + AUTHOR OF THE CALL OF THE CUMBERLANDS, THE BATTLE CRY, ETC. + + + ILLUSTRATIONS BY + G. W. GAGE + + NEW YORK + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS + + COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY + W. J. WATT & COMPANY + + _Published May_ + + + * * * * * + + + _OTHER BOOKS BY_ + + CHARLES NEVILLE BUCK + + + THE KEY TO YESTERDAY + THE LIGHTED MATCH + THE PORTAL OF DREAMS + THE CALL OF THE CUMBERLANDS + THE BATTLE CRY + + + + +[Illustration: "Newty," she said softly, "why don't you shake the dirt +of this place offen your feet?"] + + + + +THE CODE OF THE MOUNTAINS + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +This morning the boy from the forks of Troublesome Creek had back his +name once more. It was not a distinguished name, nor one to be flaunted +in pride of race or achievement. On the contrary, it was a synonym for +violent law-breaking and in the homely parlance of the Cumberland +ridges, where certain infractions are condoned, it stood for "pizen +meanness." Generations of Spooners before him had taken up the surname +and carried it like runners in a relay race--often into evil ways. Many +had laid down their lives and name with abruptness and violence. + +When the pioneers first set their feet into the Wilderness trail out of +Virginia, some left because the vague hinterland west of the ridges +placed them "beyond the law's pursuing." + +Tradition said that of the latter class were the Spooners, but Newt +Spooner had no occasion to probe the remote past for a record of +turpitude. It lay before him inscribed in a round clerical hand on the +ledger which the warden of the Frankfort Penitentiary was just closing. +Though the Governor's clemency had expunged the red charge of murder +set against his name at the tender age of eighteen, there was another +record which the Governor could not erase. A sunken grave bore testimony +in a steep mountainside burial-ground back in "Bloody Breathitt," where +dead weed stalks rattled and tangled ropes of fox-grapes bore their +fruit in due season. + +However, even the name of Newt Spooner is a better thing than the Number +813, which for two years had been his designation within those gray and +fortressed walls along whose tops sentry-boxes punctuated the angles. + +This morning he wore a suit of black clothes, the gift of the +commonwealth, and his eyes were fixed rather avidly on a five-dollar +note which the warden held tightly between his thumb and forefinger. +Newt knew that the bill, too, was to be his. Yet the warden seemed +needlessly deliberate in making the presentation. That functionary +intended first to have something to say; something meant in all +kindliness, but as Newt waited, shifting his bulk uneasily from foot to +foot, his narrowed eyes traveled with restlessness, and his thin lips +clamped themselves into a line indicative of neither gratitude nor +penitence. The convict's thoughts for two years had been circling with +uncomplicated directness about one focus. Newt Spooner had a fixed idea. + +The office of the warden was not a cheery place. Its walls and desk and +key-racks spoke suggestively of the business administered there. The +warden tilted back in his swivel chair, and gazed at the forgiven, but +unforgiving prisoner. + +"Spooner," he began in that tone which all homilies have in common; +"Spooner, you have been luckier than you had any reason to expect. It's +up to you to see that I don't get you back here again." + +He gazed sternly at the boy, for he was still a boy, despite the chalky +and aged pallor of his face, despite the tight-clenched line of the thin +lips, despite the stooping and emaciated shoulders. The Kentucky +mountaineer withers into quick decay between prison walls, and, unless +appearances were deceitful, this one was already being beckoned to by +the specter of tuberculosis. + +"You have been pardoned and restored to all civil rights by the +Governor," went on the official. "Your youth and ill health appealed to +some ladies who went through the prison. You are the youngest homicide +we have here. They interceded because you were only an ignorant kid when +you were drawn into this murder conspiracy." + +Newt's eyes blazed evilly at the words, but he only clamped his mouth +tighter. He would not have called it a murder conspiracy. To him it was +merely "killin' a feller that needed killin'." "Since," continued the +warden quietly, "you were full of white liquor, and since you had never +had a chance to know much anyhow, those ladies got busy, and you have +another chance. You ought to feel very grateful to them. It's up to you +to prove that the experiment was worth the risk it involves--the risk +of turning an assassin loose on society." + +The boy from Troublesome said nothing. From his thin chest came a deep, +racking cough. He spat on the floor, and wondered how long this man +would hold back the five-dollar bill and prolong the interview. + +"Well?" The warden's voice was impatient. "Don't you hear me talking to +you? Haven't you got any sense of decent gratitude?" + +A fiercely baleful wrath shot instinctively through Newt's gray +hawk-like eyes and smoldered in their deep sockets, but there still was +need to leash his anger--and conceal his purpose. + +"I'm obleeged ter ye," he answered in a dead voice of mock humility, +though his tongue ached to burst into profane denunciation, "but I +hain't axed nobody ter do nothin'. I didn't 'low ter be beholden ter +nobody." + +"You are 'beholden' to everybody who has befriended you," retorted the +warden with rising asperity. "Do you mean to go back to the mountains?" + +At once there leaped into the released convict's mind a vision of being +spied upon and thwarted in his purpose--a purpose which the law could +not countenance. To cover his anger he fell into a fit of violent +coughing, and, when he answered, it was with the crafty semblance of +indecision. + +"I 'lowed I mout go back an' see my kinfolks fer a spell." + +"And after that?" + +"I 'lowed," lied Spooner cautiously, "thet atter thet I'd go West." + +"Now take a tip from me," commanded the warden, and, since he still held +the five-dollar bill, the boy from Troublesome was forced to accord +unwilling attention. "Every mountain man that goes away drifts +eventually back to the mountains. God knows why they do it, but they do. +You have just one chance of salvation. I had that in mind when I spoke +to the Governor and asked him to include in your pardon a restoration of +civil rights. If you get well enough to stand the physical examination, +enlist in the army. Once in, you'll have to stay three years--and in +three years a fellow can do a lot of thinking. It may make a man of you. +If you don't take that tip I'll have you back here again--as sure as God +made you--unless you get hanged instead." + +The warden extended his hand containing the provision with which the +commonwealth of Kentucky invited this human brandling to rehabilitate +his life. The mountaineer bent eagerly forward and clutched at the money +with a wolfish haste of greed. Ten minutes later the prison gates swung +outward. + +The Frankfort Penitentiary sits on a hill looking down to a ragged town +which straddles the Kentucky River. In the basin below somnolent streets +spread away and lose themselves in glistening turnpikes between +bluegrass farms where velvet lawns and shaded woodlands surround old +mansions that mirror the charm and flavor of rural England. The state +capital is a large village rather than a city, but to this boy who had +known only the wild isolation of the Cumberlands, where sky-high +ramparts have caught and arrested human development, Frankfort seemed a +baffling metropolis. In the lumber-yards and distilleries that cluttered +the steep river banks he saw only bewilderment and in the dome of the +capitol the symbol of a power that had jailed him; that except for his +youth would have hanged him. + +One thing only he saw which struck a note of the nostalgic and brought a +catch to his throat. That river had its headwaters in his own country. +One branch flowed through his own county seat, and those knobs that +hugged its banks and framed the straggling town under the singing June +skies, were the little cousins of the mountains where his forefathers +had lived their lives and fought their battles for a hundred years. + +If he followed them long enough, they would mount from knobs to +foothills and from foothills to peaks. The metaled turnpikes would +dwindle and end in clay roads. These roads would in time give way to +rougher trails, rock-strewn and licked by the little, whispering waters +that make rivers, and he would travel by creek-bed ways over which +wagons, if they go at all, must strain their axles and where men ride +mules with their luggage in saddle-bags. There forests of age-old oaks +and spruce, pines and poplars and hickory and ash would troop down and +smother in the hillsides, and the rhododendron would be in bloom just +now. The laurel bushes would be all a-glisten and the elder tops would +be tossing sprays of foam-like blossom between towering sentinels of +rock. + +But the beauties of the rugged home country had for him another meaning. +At the roots of the laurel a man can crouch unseen with his rifle +cradled against his shoulder to "lay-way" an enemy who has over-lived +his time. + +When he had a certain man in rifle-range, the rest would be elementally +simple. He had spent more than two years thinking of that and evolving +every needful plan in detail. There was now no need of haste. After all +this thinking he could afford to consult his leisure and enjoy the +pleasures of anticipation. When once the deed was done, as the warder +had reminded him, there was the probable shadow of the gallows. But it +should be said for the late Number 813 that in his reflections was no +germ of vacillation or indecision. His one definite motive in life was +what he deemed just reprisal. He was willing to pay for that without +haggling over the cost, but he was not willing to defeat his end by +hasty incaution. + +He had been in prison over two years and was still very weak. He +recognized with contempt the tremor of his hand. Once that hand had been +so steady that all his squirrels fell from the hickories pierced through +the head. It would be a little time before he could again command that +nicety of rifle-craft. But now he must get home and home lay about a +hundred and fifteen miles "over yon." He could reach Jackson by rail, +but that would cost money, and there was ammunition to be bought and +other matters of importance, and his capital was precisely five dollars. +Besides, railroad trains were luxurious and effete; they were not for +him. He would "jest natcherly take his foot in his hand and light +out"--pausing only for a little "snack" to eat and a flask to cheer his +journey. + +He made his way slowly down into the center of the town: a town which +had come to recognize at a glance these prison-given suits of black; +these faces pasty with the pallor of confinement; this shamble fathered +by the slouchy swing of the lock-step. For the June morning when No. 813 +became again Newt Spooner was in the year 1897, and the ancient rigors +of prison life still held. + +Eyes turned curiously on the shambling derelict, but the only expression +on Newt's face was one of surly defiance to the world. The only +sentiment that stirred in his breast was such as might have brooded in +the narrow and poisoned brain of a rattle-snake, lying close-coiled by +the laurel roots along his native creek-beds. + +Prisons are to reform and teach lessons of law. Newt Spooner had been in +prison and was now out. He had already known how to hate, but now he +knew how to hate with a greater tensity. Also, he had learned to cloak +his animosity behind a craftier concealment. + +He had grown up as a cub among wolf-like men, running with the pack. +From his mother's shrunken breast he had drawn bitterness toward his +foes and "meanness." + +He remembered his boyhood surprise at the shocked face of the circuit +rider when his father had laconically announced: "Stranger, thet thar +boy's done drunk licker sence he was a baby. We weaned him on hit. Hit's +good licker, 'cause we made hit ourselves--an' we hain't paid no damn' +Gov'ment tax on hit, neither." But before him no Spooner had worn felon +stripes, though many had been felons. That he had done so branded him +with disgrace, and until he should remove that stigma by punishing the +witness upon whose sworn word his conviction had been based, he must +face the scorn of the battle-scarred members of the man-pack that still +ranged free. So, as Newt Spooner turned his face homeward between sunny +pasture lands and soft woodlands and golden grain fields and set his +feet into the Lexington turnpike, young Henry Falkins became a man +marked down for death. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Courts can not enforce laws upon which public opinion sets its embargo. +The men of the mountains have lived isolated lives for a hundred years. +They inhabit an island of medievalism entirely surrounded by +civilization, but the civilization is no more a part of them than the +water that surrounds an island is part of the island. "Leave us alone" +has been the word of the hills to the gift-bearing Greeks of innovation. +The right of men to settle their own quarrels after the method of the +Scottish clans from whom they sprang, has been a thing which local +courts have made only perfunctory efforts to deny--and which juries of +the vicinage stubbornly refused to deny. Among their crude cabins one +still hears phrases bequeathed by word of mouth from the England of +Elizabeth and the Scotland of Mary Stuart. Immured behind their walls of +sandstone, they have lived ignorantly--and fiercely. + +Their peaks are heaped against the skies, and their fields are tilled +with the hoe when mules and plows might fall down to destruction. With +nature itself they pursue a constant and desperate quarrel for +subsistence, and through generations of battle they have grown morose +and sullen and vengeful and have lost all sense of life's humor. + +But slowly the tide of outside influence is creeping in upon them and at +the contact-points strangely anomalous conditions arise: the clash of +incongruous centuries; the war between a stubborn old order and an +inevitable new. In such a life there are here and there far-sighted men +who, standing like great trees among stunted brethren, look out across a +wider perspective with a surer vision. + +The house of McAllister Falkins stands twenty miles from a railroad and +is, for this crude environment, a mansion. It was built in the days when +the first tide of pioneer life swept out of Virginia, and because it +was, in that remote day, nearer kin to the culture of the Old Dominion +than to the wilderness, it bore a strange blending of compromises +between luxury and the exigency of the frontier. + +The head of the house of Falkins, generation after generation, had clung +to the old standards and old ideals. The children of this household had +been reared like their cousins of Virginia and the bluegrass. Other +branches of the family bearing the surname had gone to seed and lapsed +into illiteracy. There were cousins who had to sign their names with +cross-marks and who had been embroiled in savage animosities until the +"Spooner-Falkins War" had become one of the sanguinary chapters of +feudal history, but the head of the house had always stood apart and +denounced the godless code of the vendetta. + +And now the time was come when old McAllister Falkins could look ahead +and begin to see the pale glow of a coming dawn. The railroads, whose +surveyors and chain-bearers his neighbors had fought, were piercing and +developing the hills. Here and there rose a circuit judge or a +prosecuting attorney who dared to talk from an unterrified soul to grand +and petit juries, and occasionally a panel harkened. District schools +began to pass into the hands of teachers who could teach. In this place +and that rose small colleges and the flickering blaze of enlightenment +was struggling into a semblance of steadiness. McAllister Falkins had +sent his son Henry away to school and college, and had had the +satisfaction of seeing him return unspoiled. + +The life of young Henry Falkins, therefore, had been cast both in and +out of the Cumberlands, and he had reached the age of twenty-five with a +minimum of enemies and a maximum of friends. His was the breadth of the +lowlands and the unflinching strength of the hills. Then the lurking and +inevitable shadow of that life had impalpably and suddenly fallen upon +him. + +When Bud Mortimer, a "marked man," riding home from Jackson, had slid +from his horse and died in a creek-bed with a rifle-hole drilled through +his chest, Falkins had been unlucky enough to have been +squirrel-shooting near by and to have recognized one of three figures +that left the open road and took cover in the laurel. By one of the +strange chances of fate, Falkins, who was tramping the woods with no +idea of concealment, had been unobserved, while the three assassins, +crouching along with all their covert art of hiding out, had not quite +escaped his eye. He had not heard the volley because the murder had +taken place at a distance. He would not have suspected the men who +passed casually below him with their rifles cradled in their elbows, had +not a word or two, in the staccato voice of a youth who walked third in +the single file, come to his ears. These words were profanely triumphant +and boastful of marksmanship. The other two men, the squirrel-hunter did +not recognize. Still, Henry Falkins might not have known that the +bull's-eye alluded to had been a human breast, and he did not know it +till later. + +When the dead man's friends had carried the matter to the courts, with +no better evidence perhaps than the bad blood which they knew existed, +and when young Newt Spooner, aged eighteen, but precocious in crime, +stood at the bar, charged with murder, Henry Falkins told the prosecutor +what he had seen. The prosecutor instructed him to keep his secret until +he was called as a witness. He knew the conditions and recognized that, +should this evidence come prematurely to the ears of the Spooners, he +should probably not only lose valuable evidence, but also be saddled +with another prosecution for murder--and just now his homicide docket +was burdensomely heavy. + +When their cub was indicted, the Spooner pack laughed. When he was haled +into court, despite his callow years, he came with insolent confidence, +as one above the law. He might have escaped and hidden out, since the +court had allowed him bond, but that would have hampered his future +freedom of action, so he preferred to go through the farce of a trial, +and afterward be free. + +He testified, and his alibi corps testified as one man, that he had been +at Hazard, forty miles away, when Mortimer fell. The defense closed in +sanguine trustfulness. Then, in rebuttal, the prosecution sprung a +surprise--a sensation--a bomb. The surprise was Henry Falkins, and when +he took the stand, the hand-made alibi collapsed. Even then Newt Spooner +had not been able to realize that the convincing story of one witness +could destroy his carefully fabricated tissue of lies. But sundry +unexpected things were happening in this dingy court-room. A new spirit +reigned there. Vaguely the sullen lad, crouching back in the prisoner's +chair, was aware of a hardening and petrifying resolve on the rugged +faces in the jury-box. Heretofore the average venireman had thought +there was no health in incurring the wrath of a family of terrorists +like the Spooners. Heretofore Spooners had always "come cl'ar." +Heretofore prosecutors had made only perfunctory attempts to convict +them. Not so with the Honorable Cale Floyd. From opening statement to +closing argument he leaped savagely at the throat of the defense. His +cross-examination was a merciless hail of verbal rifle-fire. As he +defied all the vicious animosities of the Spooner tribe, the court-room +held its breath, and young Newt waited vainly for his kinsmen to rise +_en masse_ and silence his anathemas with a volley. Each night in his +cell, young Newt Spooner wondered why he did not hear a sound outside +the brick "jail-house," and see the doors go down before the wrath of +his rescuers. It was incredible that the clan should stand by and permit +him to be "penitentiaried." Yet it finally dawned upon him that +precisely this thing was happening. The realization had dazed and +embittered him. He knew that even among his own he was not accounted as +of great importance, but he bore the name of Spooner, and in the old +days that would have been enough. He was the first sacrifice to the +changing order. He felt no resentment against the prosecutor in spite of +his philippics. The prosecutor was paid to do it. He even rather admired +the courage which gave strength to the attack, when every precedent told +the lawyer that he was inviting death for his pains. But for the man who +had volunteered to testify; who belonged to the family which his family +had hated and fought; who had come back to the mountains with +"fotched-on" ideas and attacked him with the despised weapon of the law; +for that man he felt such hatred as can only come of festering and +venomous brooding, which lasts while life lasts. + +These thoughts Newt Spooner carried as companions as he tramped the +first leg of his homeward journey. Until he had come to Frankfort, +hand-cuffed to a deputy sheriff, he had never seen this land of "down +below." Its softly billowing landscape was to him unfamiliar and +unpleasing. The great columned mansions of time-stained brick set deep +in park-like woodlands; the smoothness of velvet lawns; rippling acres +of grain ripening into gold under the June sun; all these things wore on +his nerves. He was accustomed to a country shut in and sequestered +between eternal hills; of roads where footfalls were silenced; of ragged +patches of cultivation pocketed in surrounding forests. In such places a +man could step aside and be hidden. Here he felt exposed; his very +thoughts seemed naked. That men should live in such great houses and +drive such smooth roads seemed monstrous and incredible. He hated the +"highfalutin" bearing of these "furriners," who carried their chins +aloft like masters of creation. He hated the sight of the "niggers" who +served them. He hated all the orderly smoothness and opulence of this +level land where no ridges broke the sky. So he stalked along, his face +set toward the far horizon, beyond which lay his mountains and his +purpose. + +It was a slow journey, for he was weak, but as he breathed the June air +into his cramped lungs, his shoulders began to lose their slouch and his +gait began to discard its prison shuffle for the long space-eating +stride of the mountaineer. + +At twilight, he came to a small house by the roadside. He had made a +poor day's journey and, since night was falling, he turned in at the +gate, as though it had been that of his own cabin. The place was shabby +and its residents would have been characterized by the negroes as "po' +white trash," but of social values the late Number 813 was ignorant. He +saw only a roof and to the hills-man a roof is a shelter for whosoever +may need it. Over the whitewashed fence clambering roses hung in profuse +invitation, spicing the air with their fragrance. + +Newt made his way to the door where a slatternly woman confronted him. +She stared with disapproving eyes as she wiped her hands on her apron. + +"Well, what do you want?" she challenged. + +"I 'lowed ye'd let me stay all night--I'm a travelin'," replied the boy +from Troublesome. He spoke simply and without cumbersome explanation. At +home it would have been enough. But this woman only stared at him +disapprovingly and as she took in his sullen visage and dusty suit of +black, she recognized in him the erstwhile convict. With a suppressed +scream she disappeared indoors. + +Newt stood gazing without comprehension. That he might be turned away +had not at first occurred to him. He had not yet grasped the essential +differences between highland and lowland etiquette. He accordingly +mounted the steps, crossed the porch and entered the door without +knocking. In the mountains no one knocks on a door. + +But at the threshold he met a tall man, who thrust him violently +backward and squared himself across the opening. As Newt staggered +backward and brought himself up against one of the porch supports, the +householder surveyed him from crown to toe, and then, waving a hand +outward, ordered briefly: + +"Get the hell out of here, you damned jail-bird!" + +For an instant the pardoned prisoner stood rigidly at gaze, while his +eyes gathered wrath and his ugly snarl became wolf-like. Never had he +been so greeted when claiming the traveler's prerogative of shelter from +the night. But he was unarmed; moreover, he had a mission. He was going +to kill one man. Killing men was expensive. It cost liberty and +sometimes more. He could not waste animosity. So he veiled his anger and +turned away. "I didn't 'low hit war a-goin' ter make ye mad," he mumbled +as he went out again to the road. But he had learned his lesson. The +mountaineer is as proud as he is ignorant, and, rather than risk another +rebuff, he spent the night in a haystack, and the first rosy kindling of +dawn found him again on his way; hungry, but setting his face stonily +against the temptation to ask food. + + * * * * * + +The town of Winchester, like all the county seats of central Kentucky, +breaks from its drowsy somnolence into a brief activity on court-day. On +one Monday in each month the roads fill with an unaccustomed caravan of +trade. Then under the hammer of the street auctioneer farm gear and live +stock change hands; saloons and eating-houses do a banner business; +politicians often harangue in the court-house square; friends renew old +acquaintanceships and sometimes enemies renew old quarrels. But +Winchester differs in one respect from its sister towns. The savor of a +soil rich in chivalric traditions hangs here as it does over neighboring +counties, and yet there is a difference. For Winchester is the nearest +town of consequence to that foothilled borderland where the opulent +bluegrass ends and the illiterate Cumberlands pile their grim ramparts. +Here come the farther-wandering traders from the mountains; gaunt men +with steady-gazing eyes and lean sinews and noiseless tread, to mingle +with the louder-spoken and fuller-nourished brothers of the lowlands. It +is on court-day that they come in greatest numbers. Here, too, live some +of their own kin whom the menace of feudal reprisal has driven from +their native slopes and "coves." With the mountaineer's strong yearning +to remain as near as possible to his birthplace, these refugees have +made new homes and new lives at the edge of the bluegrass where on +occasion they can again see familiar faces. From Frankfort to Winchester +is a matter of almost fifty miles, and Newt Spooner, who had taken up +his homeward journey on a Saturday morning, saw its court-house cupola +and church spires pierce the screen of foliage on the forenoon of +Monday, which chanced to be the Monday allotted to Clark County for its +court. + +Newt was very tired and very hungry. His rebuff at the farmhouse had +festered and rankled in his mind, and he had refused to ask hospitality +again or to speak to any man, save for the curt asking of necessary +directions. In Lexington he had bought himself a "snack," but because he +was penuriously hoarding his small capital, he spent with a stinting +hand and pushed onward unsatisfied. + +Now, as he trudged wearily, he saw a figure by the roadside at his +front. The figure was that of a negro, who sat on a rock pile in the +sun, hammering limestone chunks into road metal. As the boy came nearer, +he saw another detail. The black man, though unguarded, was a prisoner +and he sat safe against the chance of escape by reason of the huge iron +ball fastened to one ankle by a padlocked chain. The white man, himself +so lately released from the penitentiary, halted. He had the +mountaineer's chronic aversion to "niggers," but here was someone whom +he could question and who was in no position to insult him. + +"How fur mout hit be ter Winchester?" he demanded. + +The negro, welcoming interruption and conversation, turned with his +granite-headed hammer poised over a piece of limestone. + +"It's a right-smart piece, if a man's leg-weary. It's about a mile, +boss," he said. + +A mile to the hills-man is nothing; a mere "whoop and a holler," yet now +it seemed to the ex-convict as his informant said, "a right-smart +piece." The glow which spotted his pallid face at the cheekbones told of +a temperature. Through his limbs went a dull ache. From time to time he +coughed. Finally the negro laid aside his rock-hammer, and gazed long +and inquiringly at his silent visitor. He, too, recognized the +state-bestowed clothing and its meaning. + +"'Scuse me, boss," he suggested, "but yer done come from Frankfort, +ain't yer?" + +Newt Spooner nodded, but his eyes narrowed, discouraging interrogation. + +"Was yer--was yer in de pen'tenshery, boss?" + +The man chained to his rock pile doubted the wisdom of his question, but +African inquisitiveness had mastered his better judgment. + +Instantly he recognized his mistake. The boy from Troublesome was at +once on his feet and his sallow face was distorted with anger. From his +lips came profane volleys of abuse. Transported by rage, he took a step +forward with clenched fists. The negro clambered to his feet, and, since +he was anchored against flight, backed away defensively, waving his rock +hammer. + +Newt Spooner selected a huge fragment of the scaly limestone, and +withdrew just beyond the range of hammer and chain; but as the negro, in +a paroxysm of terror, fell pleadingly to his knees, he dropped the +missile at his side. + +"I hain't a-goin' ter bust in yore damned black head," he said in slow +wrath, "because I got another job ter do. Thet's ther only reason why I +hain't a-goin' ter kill ye." Then he turned into the road and took up +his journey again. + + * * * * * + +Back there in the fastnesses of the hills, toward which he was making +his way, the leaven of change was beginning to work, yeast-like. When he +reached his destination he was to learn with surprise that he could not +take up without interruption the story of his life: the story out of +which pages standing for two years had been torn. Births and deaths and +the giving in marriage were not the only things that had happened. +Quietly a new agent had entered in; the agent of a patient spirit of +education. This spirit came burning in the hearts of men and women from +below, who realized that they must breast stubborn opposition and that +they must adapt their methods to the life they sought to change. They +must plant and nourish the new idea in the younger minds and they must +not seek to alter in a twinkling a regime that had long been immutable. + +But buried deep in the forestry of the tangled hills, far back from a +railroad stood a group of buildings that seemed miracle-reared. They +were stanch buildings of square-hewn logs, which in contrast to the +ramshackle huts about them appeared to have been lifted from another +world and transported on the winds of some benevolent cyclone. It was +difficult to think of these houses as having been raised from solid +foundation to level ridgepole so far from the facilities of +transportation. Yet here in the wilderness stood the "college." + +It was no vaunting boastfulness that had inspired the almost fanatical +men and women who stood as sponsors for the enterprise to give so +high-sounding a name to the institution which taught kindergarten and +primary classes. Some day, they hoped, it might grow up to its title, +and meanwhile there were gray-beards and wrinkled women who sought to +study primer and multiplication-table, but whose pride would bar them +from advantages undignified by the name of college. + +On the spring morning when Newt Spooner was trudging homeward, Doctor +Murray, who had slowly and courageously turned his dream into a reality, +sat in the study of the college. There was a smile on his lips, and the +square-jawed face, which escaped all trace of the pedagogic, was +contented. The sun streamed in through his windows and lighted a room +finished in wainscoting of oak and maple--sawed at the mill, which was +part of the institution and which he could see from his window, when he +looked down. + +Above, when he cast his eyes in that direction through another window, +nestled the small hospital, where barbaric methods of local surgery were +being altered. But, best of all, there came to his ears laughter and +shouts from the trim campus where boys and girls were at play: boys and +girls who until they had come here, had known little about laughter and +much about drudgery. And every peal of mirth was a challenge to the old +order of hatred and the ancient thraldom of sullenness. + +A girl came into the room and laid some papers on his desk, and the +doctor nodded at her with a smile. + +"Minerva," he said, "I'm afraid you are working too hard. One doesn't +have to learn everything at once, you know." + +The pupil flushed and stood for a moment silent. She was straight and +lithe, and under the blue calico dress that was turned down at her +neck, her throat was brown with a tan through which a petal-like color +glowed. Her brown hair glistened with the glint of polished mahogany, +and her eyes struck the doctor as eyes meant for mirth, though they had +hardly learned to laugh. The deadly seriousness of the hills and the +Calvinistic seriousness that makes martyrs, seemed to hold in bondage a +spirit that nature had intended to radiate gaiety. Her fingers drew +themselves together into fists, and after a moment she spoke slowly, and +her speech was a strange blending of the illiterate argot of the hills +and a conscious effort to speak in the phrases dictated by the education +which she coveted. + +"I reckon ye don't hardly know how much I've got to learn," she said. "I +reckon ye don't realize how plumb ign'rant I am." + +Suddenly her voice became passionate. + +"Maybe ye don't know how I hate it all--how I want to get away from +ign'rance an' dirt an' wickedness. I've been wonderin' if I didn't err +in comin' here. It's just makin' me hate that cabin over yon--I mean +over there--on Troublesome. Sometimes I think it can't hardly do +nothin'--do anything--but make me dissatisfied." + +The head of the school looked up, and his face grew grave. + +"There are times," he said, "when that thought comes to me, too. I don't +mean as to you, Minerva, alone, but as to all those we take here and +teach. At first it was all a dream of bringing a light to a place that +was dark. That was the only phase I saw. But later I saw more. One can't +make a dream a reality without struggle. Dissatisfaction is the price we +must pay for regeneration--and people like you and myself must be among +the first to pay it." + +"Over there," she went on, as though talking to herself, "they only +hates me for it. They says I'm stuck on myself an' that what's been good +enough for my folks for all time ain't good enough for me no more--I +mean any more." + +"It takes time," the man reassured her. "In the place of ignorance, we +offer education. In the place of lawlessness, we offer law. In the place +of squalor, we offer thrift. Are those things not worth what they cost?" + +The girl stood silent for a moment, then nodded her head. + +"I reckon so," she answered simply, and turned to leave the library. +After she had gone, the teacher sat for a time with his book open before +him, but his eyes were contemplative, and it was from memory and not +from the printed page that he was reading. + +He was thinking back and seeing over again a day shortly after his +school had opened. In those times there had been fewer buildings, and of +the many pupils who came, hungry to learn, only a few could be taken in. +Among the first had been Minerva. + +She had come exhausted and tired because she had come on foot, and her +mean calico dress had been briar-torn, and her feet, which were bare, +had been bruised. But in her eyes was gleaming a passion of hunger and +resolve for the food which the school offered the mind. She had +presented herself, a ragged little mendicant asking the alms of +education, carrying what belongings she had in such a bundle as tramps +carry. + +Back in her unlighted and windowless cabin, she had heard of this +"new-fangled" institution where was to be dispensed the pabulum of +"larnin'"--and she had made her pilgrimage. Now Doctor Murray was +recalling that day. He had been down by the stile which gave entrance +from the creek-bed road, when he had seen the slight figure trudging +along, and the girl had stopped and eyed him shyly. + +"Air ye the feller frum down below what aims ter give folks larnin'?" +she had demanded, as her large eyes held his with a tense directness, +untinged by any humor. + +"To give folks learning is a large contract," he had answered with a +quizzical smile; "but we hope to give to as many as we can, at least its +rudiments." + +"What's them?" + +"The start. Have you ever been to school at all?" + +"I've done been ter the blab-school. I kin read an' write an' figger." + +Dr. Murray had stood there looking at her, and it had come to him that +she made a very pathetic picture, with the yearning in her eyes and the +dust of travel on her calico, so he denied her with a heavy heart. + +"Just now," he said regretfully, "we can only take in a few pupils and +we are already over-crowded. I'm afraid we can't make room for you." +Suddenly he added, "How far have you come?" + +"The rise of twenty mile, sence sun-up," she informed him simply, then +tears welled rebelliously into her eyes. Her voice broke from her lips +with a fierce passionateness. + +"Ye've got ter take me," she cried out. "Ye've jest simply got ter take +me. I've done been prayin' ter God Almighty ter give me a chanst. I've +done heerd that ye war a preacher of ther Gospel, an' I reckon God +hain't a-goin' ter suffer ye ter turn me away." + +Doctor Murray had then been new to the hills. The storm-like intensity +of the mountain character was bringing him its revelations. He stood +there by the road, watching the ox-teams that were bringing logs in to +his saw-mill and made rapid calculations and as he did so he heard the +new candidate for matriculation rushing on: + +"Ther Scripters says thet God's servant won't turn away sich as comes to +him seeking light--an' I've done come." + +"At all events," he answered gently, "come up and have something to eat, +and I'll talk it over with my wife." + +Mrs. Murray had spent a half-hour with the girl, and then had come back +to her husband. + +"She is as wild as a squirrel," was her announcement, "but I have never +seen such a starving heart or brain. I don't know what we shall do with +her, but we must let her stay." And so Minerva had stayed. + +Now she went out of the library, and made her way to a favorite spot up +on the hillside. It was a study hour, and she carried a book with her. +The time she had spent here had wrought a transformation. The brain had +unfolded and the heart had become unplaced. The terms of this school +adapted themselves to the needs of the environment. They did not +conflict with the nearer demands of farm work, but accommodated +themselves to necessity. When the frequent vacations came, Minerva went +back to the cabin which she called her home. Each of these visits she +dreaded. + +Mountain reserve is hard to break. Even in her tempestuous appeal to the +head of the school, she had not told her full story. Now she was +thinking of it. + +Mountain women grow old while they are yet young, but her mother had +seemed to her different. Mountain women are grave with a gravity which +is more than half sullen, but she remembered a mother who had laughed +and whose voice had been often raised in song. Then when she was still +very small, she remembered one of those rude mountain funerals where +those who come raise their voices in a weird incantation of "mourning," +which they leave off for gossip as soon as the period set aside for the +clamor comes to its end. After that she had been motherless and had kept +house for a shiftless and surly father. That house-keeping had been +simple enough in the shack of one room, but it had been unrelieved +drudgery, and because she was one of those human beings who are less +near of kinship to the members of the family with whom they live than +with some far-off ancestor whose nature is strangely duplicated, Minerva +had always had longings for things which were to her undefined dreams. +Her nature had always been in insurrection against the squalid facts of +her life. Her inclinations and thoughts struck back, by one of Nature's +practical jokes, to some woman who had been a lady in the courtly life +of Virginia a century, or maybe two centuries, ago, before her ancestors +became stranded pioneers and lapsed into illiteracy, degeneracy and +venal sloth here in the hard hills. What this all meant she had not +known, but she knew that one memory alone was sweet to her thoughts, and +that that was the memory of her mother. She knew, too, that even before +they had taught her at the college how perverted it all was, this whole +scheme of mountain feudalism and black ignorance and bitterness had +seemed to her wrong and repugnant. Something had told her that somewhere +there must be something different and that somehow she must find it and +weave it into the pattern of her life. Of these things she had thought +as she sat in the summer evenings on the slab bench before the cabin +door. In summer there was a great pine, which, just after twilight had +faded into velvet blackness in the sky, pointed an index upward beyond +the valley; and over it, before the other stars came out there always +appeared a tiny point of light, which she chose to call her star. +Somehow, it seemed that in some vague future day that star would lead +her. + +She was often alone, for her father would leave her there and go his own +ways, but a day came when he returned and began throwing his few +possessions into a bundle. + +"M'nervy," he said with a sullen sort of embarrassment, "I reckon thar's +times when ye gits right-smart lonesome way up hyar, hain't thar?" + +A catch had come into her voice as she said: + +"Right often, Pappy." + +He nodded, then added abruptly: + +"Waal, we're ergwine ter nail up thet door ternight an' quit this-hyar +place." + +"Whar air we a-goin' ter?" + +"I done got myarried terday," he announced. "I reckon we'll go down an' +dwell with my wife's folks." + +The sun was nearing the western peaks and the afternoon was well spent. +The girl had had no intimation in advance of this contemplated change of +order. She stood there stunned. Life had been empty enough, but here at +least she had been in a fashion mistress of the wretched house, and here +she had had her pine tree and her star, which were the emblems of her +dreams. + +A long, low moan escaped her, and her father's face reddened in anger. +He turned away and left her, going into the house, and she fled +precipitately to the heights above and sobbed out her misery at the +roots of the pine to which she was bidding farewell. + +Then they had moved, and life had meant fitting herself into a new +family, no member of which liked her, and submitting to the shrewish +heckling of a step-mother, who seemed to her a hideous libel upon the +memory of the woman who had been lucky enough to die young. + +Now, as she sat with her book in her lap, because in a few days she must +go back to that cabin, the past was parading in review before her eyes, +and though she was very hungry for "larnin'" she was neglecting her +books. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The late convict had wasted his strength. His violent paroxysm of anger +had exhausted him more than his laborious tramp. It had sent his +temperature up and brought a sickening weakness to his muscles. He +wavered as he plodded and once or twice even stumbled to his knees, +until at last, with only three-quarters of a mile left, he turned aside +to the bank of the roadside and sat down with the sweat of weakness +dripping from his face. + +It was such a day as must have set poets to making jeweled phrases out +of words. The air and skies held that radiance which can make of a +Kentucky June morning a miracle of beauty. The horizons were dreamily +soft and warm. In the field at Newt Spooner's back a meadow-lark was +madly trying to burst his pulsating throat with the flood of golden joy. +In Newt Spooner's mind was a somber picture; a picture of the mountains +which a few days more would throw across the eastern sky-line, and of a +man who lived there and who was to die. He was to die without +opportunity to defend himself and without benefit of clergy. It was not +to be a fight, but an execution. In the entire mental range of the young +man panting by the roadside was no reflex of any other thing than brute +bitterness and "pizen meanness." + +A buggy and horse rose into view over the crest of the hill. It had only +one occupant and the occupant was a girl. She was unlike any woman Newt +Spooner had ever known; unlike any of the "gals" back in the mountains. +Her lithe figure had all the fresh charm of the sparkling morning and +all the spirited quality of the thorough-bred. And just as to Newt +Spooner the world held only gall, so to her it held only fragrance and +music and starshine--and an abiding faith in men and women. + +She was happy because she had not yet discovered any unhappiness and +because she was young ... and because to-day she would see in Winchester +a certain member of the opposite sex in whom her interest was direct and +personal. Meantime, June was softly glowing around the whole circle of +the sky's embrace and the trees were rustling their fresh greenery and +the birds were singing. + +She was singing, too, but suddenly she stopped as her eyes fell on the +young man by the roadside. Her quick gaze discerned that he was +desperately thin and that the color in his face burned only in hectic +spots against a chalky pallor. She saw, too, that as he wiped his +forehead on his sleeve his forearm and hand trembled. His clothes +proclaimed him lately released from the penitentiary, but her ideas on +the subject of prisons were vaguely confined to a compassionate regret +that they existed. Quite probably had she found him there looking weak +and sick even had he worn stripes, she would still have offered him +help. She drew the horse to a standstill, and called out cheerfully in a +voice as tuneful as the lark over yonder in the field: + +"Good-morning. Can't I give you a lift?" + +Newt Spooner gazed back at her sullenly and defiantly. The dog that has +only been kicked distrusts the hand thrust out in kindness. It is +unknown to his experience. + +"Naw," he declined, with as surly an utterance as possible. + +The girl flushed and her lips tightened. She flung back her head with a +gesture that set truant curls tantalizingly astir and flapped the reins +on the horse's back, but in quick afterthought she drew him down again. +This boy's rudeness did not alter the fact that he was sick. He looked +like a mountaineer and could hardly be expected to measure up to the +bluegrass requirements of courtesy. + +"You're about as polite as--as a mud-turtle," she calmly informed the +traveler, holding his eyes with an unflinching gaze, before which they +shamefacedly drooped; "but that doesn't make any difference. I'm going +into Winchester, and you don't look very well. Hadn't you better get in +and ride to town?" + +The boy from Troublesome stared his incredulity. She seemed to him a +marvelous sort of being. Her simple dress was to his eyes extravagantly +elegant and her patrician delicacy of feature belonged to an order +which neither the drudgery of the hills nor that of the state prison had +given him opportunity to study. + +"I reckon," he said slowly and diffidently, but no longer with a note of +bitterness, "hit hain't wuth while to pester ye." + +"That's all right," she commanded. "Climb in." Slowly he rose and +obeyed, the whiskey-flask protruding from his coat-pocket, and when they +had gone a quarter of a mile, Newt made his sole voluntary contribution +to the conversation. + +"I'm obleeged ter ye," he said. + +She did not question him unduly, nor ply him with conversation, but she +smiled, and in some subtle fashion there broke through the storm-wrack +of the boy's bitterness a thin ray of light and glow of graciousness. +She let him out at the court-house square, where buggies stood in rows +and traders jostled and the auctioneer's shout resounded, and there he +lost himself in the crowd; but first he stood looking after her until +her buggy turned a corner, and then he remembered that she had nodded +with a friendly smile of farewell. It was rather wonderful to be treated +like a human being. + +Newt Spooner wanted food and he wanted it to be cheap, so he foraged up +and down Main Street until he came upon that lower section where several +shabby eating-houses were sandwiched between equally shabby saloons. + +And while he stood on the pavement undecided which way to turn, a hand +was laid on his shoulder, and he wheeled, startled, to find himself +gazing into the face of his kinsman, Red Newton. + +"Come hyar," commanded the older man. "I done heered thet ye was +pardoned out, an' I sorter 'lowed ye'd be making tracks fer ther +mountings. I wants ter have talk with ye afore ye goes back." + +"I aims ter git a snack ter eat," demurred Newt. "I hain't a-goin' ter +talk ter no man afore I eats." + +The other nodded. + +"I knows a place whar we kin eat an' talk, too. Fult Cawsler hes done +moved hyar from over on Squabble Creek, an' opened a resteraw. All our +folks eats thar." + +The youth, who had three days before been Number 813, permitted himself +to be led through an uninviting doorway around which stood several gaunt +men in mud-spattered clothes. But Red Newton did not suffer him to halt +at any of those tables, covered with red oil-cloth, where several +taciturn pilgrims from the hills were feeding themselves from the blades +of their knives. Instead he whispered something to Fult Cawsler himself, +and was permitted to climb a narrow stairway at the back. At its head +they traversed a narrow hall and came into a separate room where around +a private table were seated a group of men whom the boy knew. Old Jason +Dode was, as usual, tipsy and, even as the new-comers entered, was +tilting the bottle of "red licker" which he unwillingly substituted for +the white and sweetish moonshine of his native stills. But the +important thing was that Black Pete Spooner stood gazing out of the open +window, though he stood back far enough to escape the eyes of passers-by +below. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets and on his face was the +same expression that always sat there. Few people passed Black Pete by +without turning to look again. He stood somewhat upward of six feet and +his broad shoulders tapered to a gauntness of waist and leg which gave +him the suggestion of a timber wedge. He was as tough as that +lumberman's implement and wedgelike, too, in his power of disrupting the +dividing elements which, but for him, might have hung together in +harmony. + +His dark head he carried high-flung with a swing of independence, and +that head, even more than the physique, caught and challenged attention. + +Black Pete's face was rather narrow and rather long, but its brow was +high, its nose strong and regular, and its chin had that square-blocked +declaration of resoluteness which commands respect. Under brows black +and bushy gazed out eyes that were the dominating feature. They were as +clear and penetrating as crystal lenses, and in them dwelt a sober, +almost sad contemplativeness as though the brain behind them were +habitually gazing off beyond horizons that limited other visions. They +were eyes that seemed able to pierce the opaque things of life. The hair +curled crisply in glistening black, about the forehead and neck, and +over the firm mouth a black mustache fell drooping in long ends. It was +a face that hinted at no violence, though at great strength and +determination. Rather was it suggestive of melancholy thought, and it +had won for him the satiric title of the "Deacon." + +As Red Newton and Newt Spooner came into the room, Black Pete turned his +glance for a moment upon them, then wheeled again to the window with no +apparent interest in their presence or existence. His face remained as +wistfully distracted as though he were a minister preparing a discourse, +on a text which lay very near his heart. But Newt, having seen him, +continued to stare. His eyes narrowed. He knew that several years ago, +before he had himself become a felon, the Deacon had gone West--where he +did not know. But he did know that only so long as this man remained +away from the county could there be hope of even comparative peace +between the Spooners and the Falkinses. So dreaded was the quiet-visaged +intriguer, so unalterably given to violence and the taking of lives, +that his exile had been the condition precedent to all negotiations for +truces and peace. Now Black Pete was back. Obviously, the meeting in +Cawsler's "resteraw," seventy miles from home, held some portent beyond +the casual. + +They brought the newest prodigal food, and, while he devoured it, +bolting it with wolfish hunger, he also picked up the loose ends of talk +and began to understand the situation. There had been an election down +in his section since Newt's conviction--an election and some other +things, which Red Newton briefly summarized as "merry hell." The +"penitentiarying" of Newt himself had been only the inaugural of more +sweeping and hateful innovations. Three times the old blood-feud had +broken into sporadic outbursts, and three men had been shot. But what +most galled was the fact that the commonwealth's attorney had shown a +hound-like nose for evidence and that all of the accused clansmen had +been viciously prosecuted. + +A truce had been patched, by the terms of which Jake Falerin, a cousin +of McAllister Falkins and the leader of the militant Falkinses, had +agreed to leave the hills and remove the menace of his disturbing +influence. He had gone only as far as Winchester, and, from councils +held there with visiting Falkinses, was as dangerous as though he had +remained at home, even while his own life was safer. The Spooners had +decided that this half-compliance was a practical breach of the truce, +and in accordance with that theory the Deacon had come home. At least, +he had come this far. In the meanwhile, the Honorable Cale Floyd, +commonwealth's attorney, had reaped the gratitude of his constituency. +Because he had waged relentless war on lawlessness and had begun to show +incipient symptoms of victory, he was defeated for reelection. Sick of +the futility of such endeavor, he had closed the bare law-office before +which his shingle had swung in Jackson, and had come to Winchester, +where the field was larger and where men were more appreciative of the +qualities and principles for which he stood. He was the man who had put +stripes on Newt, and who, had he remained in office long enough, would +have made the pattern a family apparel for other Spooners. + +"That's how things stands, Newt," summarized Red, turning to the new +arrival, "an' that's what I 'lowed ye'd better know about afore ye went +back home." + +"An' them damned fellers, Jake Falerin an' Cale Floyd, is a settin' over +thar somewhars in this-hyar town right now, a-brewin' of more deviltry," +enlightened old Jason Dode in a hiccupy voice, "an' because they hain't +in the mountings, they 'lows they kin go right on with hit. We don't +'low they kin." + +The "Deacon" turned from the window, and strolled toward the table. +Newt, having appeased his hunger, was wiping his mouth on the spotted +tablecloth. The dark giant fixed him with thoughtful eyes. When he +spoke, his voice was in contrast with those of his fellows, for his life +in the West had almost freed it from drawl and vernacular, and he spoke +with a quiet graveness. + +"Son, this Cale Floyd is the same lawyer that sent you to prison." + +Newt's eyes flashed. + +"I reckon I hain't fergot thet," he said shortly. + +Black Pete nodded sympathetically, and went on with the same grave +intonation. + +"I reckon you wouldn't mind much if he got his dues?" + +"He's ergwine ter git his'n," asserted old Jason, his bloodshot eyes +wickedly aflare. "He's ergwine ter git his'n this day afore sundown. +An' Jake Falerin's ergwine ter git his'n, too. Them two fellers'll be in +hell ternight." + +"Shut the old fool up," suggested the Deacon passively; "he'll be +shouting that out in the street after one more swig of liquor." Then he +turned to Newt again. + +"If Floyd isn't taken care of, son, the next commonwealth's attorney +will follow right after him. We've got to give a lesson an' a warning. +Do you understand?" + +"I reckon I do," replied the ex-convict, but he spoke without ardor. + +"This evenin' about half-past four o'clock," proceeded Black Pete, +"Mister Lawyer Floyd is going to make a speech in front of the +court-house. There'll be a crowd, and we figure that Falerin will be +there, too. Our boys will get up close. Some of them will start a fight +amongst themselves, and I reckon they'll pull guns. Mr. Floyd an' Mr. +Falerin are apt to get accidentally shot." + +Newt Spooner rose, and stretched his arms. His food and rest had +refreshed him, and the red spots had gone out of his cheeks. + +"What for," he inquired coolly, "air ye a-tellin' me all this-hyar +business?" + +The Deacon's grave eyes clouded, but otherwise his expression did not +change. + +"We figured you'd be interested, son. You were the first Spooner they +ever put behind penitentiary bars. This man did it. We figured that when +we came to punish these fellers--" He broke off with a shrug of his +shoulders. + +"Ye 'lowed ye mout git me ter kill 'em?" Newt spoke with absolutely no +betrayal of interest. + +"Jest the lawyer, Newt," interpolated Red Newton ingratiatingly. "He's +your'n. Hit's yore right ter punish him." + +The late convict wheeled on the speaker, and his face blackened and +lowered. + +"The hell hit is!" he screamed. "I hain't aholden nothin' 'g'inst ther +lawyer. He didn't do nothin' but what he had a license ter do. I knows +who I'm atter. You folks wants two men killed, an' you wants me ter be +ther feller ter go ter the penitentiary fer doin' hit. What the hell did +any of ye do fer me last time? What the hell do I owe any of ye, wuth +goin' back thar fer?" + +For a moment, a general silence of dazed astonishment followed the +outburst. It was the Deacon who broke it at last. + +"All right, son," he said almost gently. "Every man accordin' to his +lights. I reckon you ain't goin' to tell anybody what you've heard?" + +Newt snorted contemptuously. + +"I reckon ye knows thar hain't no danger of _thet_." "Hit 'pears like," +interposed Red Newton with an apologetic shrug to the others, "hit +'pears like the penitenshery hes done broke ther boy's sperit. Some +folks is thet-away, but hit don't hardly seem like no Spooner." + +Newt wheeled on him. + +"Thet's a low-down lie," he stormed. "Nothin' hain't broke my sperit. I +hain't scairt of them, ner of you, ner of hell! I knows what I'm atter. +Thar's a feller I'm ergwine ter kill, but hit hain't this one. I'm +tendin' ter my own business?--not your'n. You-all got me inter one +killin', an' not a blame one of ye stood by me atterwards. Now all of ye +kin go ter hell!" + +He glared around the group for a moment and left the house, and no one +made an effort to stop him. Newt meant to take up his journey within an +hour or two. He, too, had a vengeance planned, but the man he sought was +back there in the mountains, and there was no use in "foolin' away time +an' money here." + +Yet an hour later he walked past the court-house and the large hotel +just beyond it, and abruptly, opposite the hotel door, he halted. He had +seen a buggy drive up and stop, and in the buggy was the girl who had +brought him to town. He had forgotten her, but now he paused across the +street and stood gazing. He gazed simply because she was the first +living soul who had ever been kind or gracious to him, and, precisely as +the blind man may feel the sunlight and know that it is pleasant, he +glowed dumbly under the remembrance of her smile. + +Then as he stood looking, a young man came out of the hotel with his hat +lifted and his face smiling. In his eyes was an expression easy to read, +an eager, glad welcome as he crossed the pavement with extended hand and +climbed into the buggy beside the girl. The young man was well dressed +and bore himself like a gentleman, yet he was a mountaineer by parentage +and birth. + +Newt's posture stiffened into rigidity. The color left his face and his +eyes began to burn balefully.... He had just recognized Henry Falkins. + +For an instant, the erstwhile convict stood paralyzed with astonishment, +then the blood in his arteries began pounding a fanfare of triumph. +Wheeling, he went rapidly toward the restaurant of Mr. Cawsler. There he +would find some of the clansmen, and one of them could lend him a +pistol. If they refused, he would ravish a weapon from them with his +bare hands. After that, if they let him have ten minutes for his own, he +would join them in any schemes, conspiracies or crimes that interested +them. For him, ten minutes would be sufficient. His walk broke into a +trot at which the passers-by laughed. A yokel in a hurry is always +amusing. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +A group of shabby men lounging in front of Fult Cawsler's restaurant +paid scant attention to a wild-eyed youth who came down the street at a +run and dashed into the door. Newt found the dining-room on the main +floor empty save for a weary and untidy woman who was clearing away the +china of the mid-day trade, and Fult Cawsler himself, whose bulky figure +was just then disappearing up the stairs. The boy stood for a moment +anxiously gazing about the place with its oil-cloth table-covers and its +gaudy wall calendars, then dashed pell-mell after the climbing +restaurateur. The woman called to him in high-pitched and raucous +prohibition, but Newt Spooner went heedlessly on his way. At the head of +the stairs in the murky hallway Cawsler turned, and without at once +recognizing the on-rushing invader wheeled belligerently to face him. + +The plans which had been hatched in his place that day were not such as +would enhance his reputation as a law-abiding tradesman should they come +to general knowledge. As the proprietor blocked the way, his voice +carried the ring of asperity. + +"What in hell air ye makin' such a furss about?" + +"Hit's me, hit's Newt Spooner," volleyed the unarmed avenger. "Whar's +Red? Whar's the Deacon? I hain't got no time ter fool round. I'm in +hell's own haste!" + +"They've done gone--all of 'em," responded Cawsler calmly, as he +recognized the ex-convict. "I don't know whar they're at." He paused, +and then admonished coldly, "Ye'd better set down and calm yoreself. Ef +ye runs around town so distracted-like, they'll put ye in the jail-house +fer shore." + +Newt only snarled. Here was a situation upon which he had not counted. +He had unexpectedly found his quarry, and he was unarmed. By the time he +remedied his deficiency his victim might have escaped. For an instant he +stood in a futile and silent transport of rage, his entire body in a +tremor of blood-lust and excitement. Then with an oath he pushed Cawsler +aside and entered the room where he had left his clansmen. It, too, was +empty, except for a figure breathing with drunken and stertorous stupor +in a chair at one corner. + +The one man was old Jason Dode. Newt rushed across, and unceremoniously +catching him by the shoulders, twisted his sagging figure until it lay +chest upward. The old drunkard mumbled and raised balky hands against +the indignity, but consciousness flitted only spasmodically across his +face, and he sank back again with an incoherent murmur. Newt tore open +his coat and vest, and ran his hand under the left armpit, but he found +there only an empty holster. Old Jason was drunk and ineffective, and +lest in his maudlin condition he might wander out and disturb the +equilibrium of their plans, the clan had disarmed him. Newt rose and +faced Cawsler. + +"I've got ter have a gun," he exploded. "Git me a gun!" + +But Cawsler, gazing into the wild face and burning eyes, judged that +Newt, too, had been "hittin' up the red licker," and that a gun was just +what he least needed. Accordingly he shrugged the fat shoulders under +his dirty shirt, and shook his head in negation. + +"I hain't got no gun," he lied; "I done loaned mine out." With another +wild oath, the would-be assassin dashed down the steps and out into the +street. He would search the town until he found a kinsman, and +incidentally he would try to keep an eye of sufficient watchfulness on +Henry Falkins to remain familiar with his movements. It did not occur to +him that Henry Falkins might be unsuspicious. To his mind Henry Falkins +must know, if he had heard of the pardon, that, straight as a homing +pigeon, Newt would come to him for reprisal. Such was the code of the +Cumberlands. So his task was threefold: to arm himself; to find Henry +Falkins; and to conceal himself from Henry Falkins. + +The Spooner aggregation meant to make its appearance at the +psychological moment, and until that moment to remain as invisible as a +covey of quail in close brush. Newt, no longer excited of guise, but +quiet, almost feline in his alert movements, slunk from saloon to +saloon, and scanned the length of the streets with a purposeful glitter +in his eye--and his search for a kinsman was vain. + +The afternoon was well advanced when the boy, lurking in a side street, +saw a buggy pass at a rapid trot, and recognized its occupants. The +vehicle was going out Main Street, and in it were a girl and a man. For +the second time that day, he had sighted his quarry, and, turning into +Main Street, he began to follow. It was merely reconnaissance, but, if +he could hold the vehicle in sight long enough, he might know where +later to take up his watch. A man on foot is poorly equipped to follow a +standard-bred trotter between the shafts of a light buggy, but the +streets of Winchester lie over gradual and rolling hills, and the girl +who held the reins was a humane driver. A square ahead, she drew her +horse to a walk for the climb, so the man could keep them in sight as +far as the next ridge, and he strode along at a rapid distance-devouring +walk, forgetting his weariness as a hunter forgets it when a covey rises +whirring from the stubble. + +Then for a while he lost them, and so, losing and regaining his view, he +followed them up and down hill till the town dwindled into outskirts and +the street became a smooth turnpike between farms and woodlands. But, at +last, the difference in speed told, and the boy reluctantly abandoned +the chase. Not, however, until he had glimpsed through stretches of +velvet woodland a thing which he did not understand, and which he paused +in perplexity to study. Back in the patriarchal grove of oaks and +walnuts and hickories was a frame platform, and men were working on +their hands and knees, polishing its floors. About it were strung long +lines of paper lanterns of bright and varied colors and fantastic +shapes. Still farther back, but close of access to the platform, rose +the front of an ancient and vine-covered mansion with its little village +of barns and servants' quarters, peeping out between lilac bushes and +cedars. But it was the platform that puzzled the mountain traveler, and +he perched himself on the fence to "study" about it. + +A negro boy, riding a colt and carrying an empty basket, came jogging +down the avenue and into the pike, where he drew rein in response to +Newt Spooner's signal. + +"What mout thet contraption be over yon?" demanded the mountaineer in a +surly voice, as he indicated with a jerk of his head the object of his +curiosity. + +The servant laughed long and loud. He was a young negro and mounted. By +putting spurs to his steed he could escape any penalty of insolence, and +if the mountaineer dislikes the negro it is with no greater scorn than +that which the negro feels for the poor white. When he had finished +laughing his white teeth continued to gleam in a wide grin. + +"Thet-thar contraption," he mimicked with an excellent impersonation of +the nasal drawl in which he had been questioned, "is a platfawm. It's +shorely an' p'intedly a platfawm. Our folks is gwine ter have a platfawm +dance ternight. Saxton's band's coming frum Lexin'ton ter play de music, +and all de quality folks'll be hyar." + +At the sneer of the servant's manner, Newt Spooner had slipped down from +the place he had assumed on the fence, and stalked menacingly out into +the road. The negro had moved his horse a little to the side and waited. +But, at the information received, Newt forgot his wrath in the +engrossment of a sudden idea. A dance! The young people would be there +in force. Perhaps among them would be the one he sought. In his country +where round dances are unknown, special invitations are not required. +Word goes out that so-and-so is giving a dance at such-and-such a point, +and the countryside troops thither for shuffle and jig and wassail. + +"I reckon," said Newt slowly, "I reckon I'll be thar." + +The black boy let out a loud guffaw. He leaned back with one hand +supporting his weight on the haunches of his mount, and whooped his +mirthful derision to the open heavens. Newt gazed at him, first in +astonishment; then in passion. + +"What air ye a-laughin' at, nigger?" he inquired with low-pitched +ferocity of voice. + +The boy gathered up his reins, and, under the pressure of his spurred +heel, the colt was away in a gallop. + +"I may be a nigger," he flung back over his shoulder, "but I ain't no +po' white trash. The likes of you comin' to our dance! Good Gawd!" A +roar of ironical laughter followed in the wake of clattering hoofs, +while Newt Spooner, his thin face working with a positive mania of +fury, hurled rock after rock at the retreating figure. + +Slowly the mountain boy walked back toward town, his black suit already +whitened with a fine coating of turnpike dust. + +As he neared the court-house, he quickened his step, for a dense crowd +was gathered at its front, and he knew that the speaking must be in +progress. His people would be in the throng and they would be armed. If +he were going to the dance to-night, he needed a gun, and yet his +craftiness automatically set a restraint on his impatient haste. Should +he rush headlong into that crowd just on the verge of trouble, he might +rush also into arrest. The applause and laughter with which the crowd +just now jostled shoulders told him that nothing had yet occurred to +break the peace or equipoise of the occasion; but that something +was to happen he knew, and the knowledge made him cautious. A +distinguished-looking gentleman with white hair was speaking from an +improvised stand, and, as the ex-convict drew near the outskirts of the +crowd, he found himself standing near a man who wore a blue coat, and +leaned on a stout hickory staff. The partial uniform of this individual +proclaimed a town marshal, and the badge on the breast corroborated the +proclamation. It occurred to Newt that to be talking with an officer of +the law when the shooting began would constitute an excellent alibi. So +he stopped, and touching the officer on the elbow, inquired: + +"Stranger, who mout thet man be, thet's a-talkin'?" + +The policeman turned and regarded him out of a broad, good-humored face, +in which shrewd, but merry eyes twinkled. + +Newt wanted that officer to know him the next time they met, and to +remember him definitely, so he returned the gaze with one frank and +unblinking. + +"That's General Braden, sonny," the town marshal amiably enlightened; +"he's just introducin' the Honorable Cale Floyd. That's Floyd now." + +"I hain't in yore way, am I, stranger?" questioned Newt humbly by way of +further emphasizing his presence. "I 'low ef I hain't, I'll jest stay +right hyar an' listen at him speak." + +The officer laughed. + +"Stay right where you are, sonny," he invited; "I expect it's as good a +place as any." And then, to the boy's delight, the other laid a hand +lightly on his shoulder. + +The young man from the waters of Troublesome wore a blank face, although +it was difficult. He had told himself that he felt no hostility for this +prosecutor who had convicted him. Yet, now, as he saw the tall man step +forward to take his place on the platform, remove his felt hat and shake +back the black hair which fell, mane-like, over his forehead, Newt +acknowledged a sense of gladness that he was to be killed. + +The Honorable Cale Floyd had fought a bitter battle back there in the +lawless hills for the vindication of law. He had walked in the shadow +of death and had been deprived of office; ostracized like Aristides +because he was "too just a man." + +Now, he had come down here to the cultured bluegrass, and was being +pointed out as something of a hero. Clients with well-filled purses +brought their litigation to his office. And it came to pass that in the +glow of unwonted recognition, the simplicity with which he had faced +peril back there in his own country was slipping from him. He felt the +theatric quality of the moment, and struck something of a pose as the +crowd took in his tall figure and broad shoulders and country lawyer's +make-up of frock coat and black string tie. He had recognized that it +was more effective to appear the backwoods lawyer than the well-groomed +attorney. His mentality would flash more startlingly from six feet of +rugged mountaineer, and his attainments would limn themselves forth in a +more impressive forcefulness. In short, the Honorable Cale Floyd was not +now averse to capitalizing his past vicissitudes. + +So he shook back his hair, and stood smiling with the June sun slanting +to his fearlessly rugged features and touching them like a face cast in +bronze. Then he began to talk. He warmed into his subject, gathering a +wine-like thrill from the interested attention of the upturned faces; +faces which long jury experience made as readable to him as clear type, +and he threw more and more fire into his utterance, until he was borne +out of himself and into a realm of eloquence. With a characteristic +gesture, he leaned far outward and stretched his hand, index-like, +toward the edge of the crowd. Thus had he turned often from the jury-box +and scourged with figure and invective the man in the prisoner's dock. +It chanced that all unconsciously the finger went like an aimed weapon +to the face of Newt Spooner, and straightway the boy saw red. From his +mind passed the white brick facade of the bluegrass court-house, the sea +of hats and the field of shoulders, and in their stead there rose again +before him the dingy interior in Jackson, where he sat beside his +counsel, while this same man, with this same gesture, loosed on his head +all the bolts of the law's castigation. And at that same moment, playing +with hypnotic intensity on his audience, the Honorable Cale Floyd fell +instantly and suddenly silent, holding his bronze-like pose of +outstretched arm and hand. It was only for a momentary pause: an +oratorical trick of contrast and emphasis, out of which his voice would +presently ring again in compelling tones. But in that instant of quiet +there rose from the center of the crowd a sudden shuffle and a muffled +outcry accompanied by a swaying of bodies. It was so close to the stand +that the speaker, looking off more widely, was conscious of it only with +annoyance for a marred effect. But, as he drew himself erect once more, +to the undefined disturbance was added an outbreak of oaths, and, before +they had died away, several close pistol reports came spitting sharply +from the front, and little wisps of blue smoke twisted upward above the +hats. At once there followed a general pandemonium, shoving, shouting, +the shrill screams of women; an effort among the panic-stricken to get +away by climbing over those who obstructed them. + +With an oath, and an eloquent sweep of the hand to his pistol-pocket, +the town marshal left Newt, who stood with an enigmatical smile on his +lips, and went ploughing through the scattering mob toward the center of +the disturbance. For a breathing space, the speaker stood leaning on the +rail of the platform and looking out with no expression on his face save +one of chagrined interruption. + +Newt Spooner suppressed a snarl of contempt. + +"By God," he muttered to himself, "ef they didn't go an' plumb miss +him!" + +But, as he was still growling inwardly with disgust, the attorney +started to step back, reeled and crumpled limply to the floor of the +platform. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +After the momentary shock of sudden panic the scattered auditors began +shamefacedly drifting back for inquiry and a solution. + +Newt Spooner saw General Braden and a companion carrying the limp figure +of the mountain lawyer down the stairway of the platform and heard them +cursing the lawlessness of the mountaineers who, "having made an +excursion from their own shambles were waging their damnable war on the +streets of a civilized town." + +He saw the crowd opening to let out several men who bore another +prostrate figure, and, as they passed, one glance at the face, which had +fallen back, loose-jawed, between the supporting arms, told him that +some one had "gotten" Jake Falerin. Then he saw the town marshal, +supported by half-dozen volunteer deputies, fighting for a passage +through the throng with the prisoners, whose bodies they shielded with +their own. This group made its way up the stairs, and flattened itself +against the court-house wall. + +Behind the drawn revolvers of the guard, the late convict recognized the +faces of Red Newton and his accomplice. Already the crowd, which had a +moment before been in panic-stricken flight, was pressing menacingly +forward, and talk of lynching ran like wildfire from mouth to mouth. The +officer was brandishing his pistol, and two of the volunteers were +holding aloft, in show of force, the revolvers they had taken from the +captives, whom they were waiting to slip through the court-house halls +to the jail. Someone had gone around to unlock the doors. + +The prisoners themselves stood stoically enough with mask-like faces, +and if the roar of bluegrass wrath intimidated them, their eyes and lips +showed no trace. + +The countenance of Red Newton even wore a satirical smile as he +commented to the other Spooner, loudly enough to be heard around a wide +radius: + +"These-here furriners air shore hell-bent on law an' order, hain't they? +They're bounden fer ter have hit, even if they has ter lynch folks ter +git hit." + +Then the door opened, and the officer with his prisoners backed swiftly +through it and slammed it in the faces of the crowd. Newt calmly walked +down the stairs, and strolled along the street. At a corner, he saw +Black Pete leaning nonchalantly against the wall in conversation with a +farmer, who was roundly berating the violence of the mountaineers. The +Deacon was chewing a wooden toothpick and regarding his chance companion +with grave and respectful attention, nodding his head in approval of the +sentiments expressed, but, as Newt passed him, he fell into step, and +the two walked together toward Mr. Cawsler's restaurant. + +"Son," suggested the quiet giant who had arranged the little tragedy of +the afternoon, "this town's going to be a right-bad place for us +mountain men for a time. If I was you, I'd dig out." + +"Thet's my business," retorted the other sullenly. "I've got a matter +ter settle up, fust--besides I reckon I kin prove I didn't have no hand +in these doin's. I was havin' speech with the policeman when hit busted +loose." + +The Deacon came as near smiling as he ever came. One side of his long +mustache tilted up, but his eyes remained sadly grave. + +"I reckon I can prove that I didn't have no part in it, either," he said +easily. "But some of these Falerins have seen me around town, and I +reckon they'll try to get me implicated. That Falkins crowd suspects +everybody. Come in here with me a minute, son." + +The Deacon turned and led the way into a saloon, already noisy with +excited men having recourse to drink and discussion. + +They passed through the place and into the yard at the rear, where, +after a look around to assure himself that they were alone, the older +man drew a heavy revolver from under his coat. + +"If they try to get me into it," he said calmly, "I'm going to make them +search me. Keep my gun for me a while, if you don't mind. You were with +the policeman, and they won't suspicion you." + +For a moment Newt hesitated, then came the thought of his own affairs. A +weapon was what, above all other things, he needed. Accordingly, he +took it silently, and slipped it inside his coat, and without a word or +a nod turned and walked back through the saloon, to disappear beyond its +swinging screens. + +When night came a two-thirds moon rode high and paled the summer stars +into pin-points. Newt Spooner knew from talk on the streets that the +lawyer would recover to reap greater reputation from the affair in +which, even after leaving the storm of his own country, he had fallen +under a mountain hand. But Jake Falerin would reap nothing from the +afternoon's doings beyond an obituary in the newspapers: an obituary +which would recount a sanguinary career closed with a sanguinary climax. + +These matters, however, gave Newt only minor concern. He was not to be +shaken from a fixed resolve by other men's hopes or disappointments. +Nightfall found him trudging out the moon-bathed turnpike between the +blue and silver mists of the fields; because, though uninvited, he was +going to a party. He was not going as a guest, nor yet wholly as an +onlooker. If one man was not among the guests, he would turn back from +the fringe of the festivity, touching it no further. If that one man was +there, Newt Spooner meant to break up the party, and add a sequel to the +shocking transpirings of the afternoon. + +Many buggies passed him, driving slowly, for the night was gracious with +the sweet fragrance of the young summer, and the occupants of the +vehicles were young, too, and no part of a summer dance is better than +the going thither and the coming home. From this caravan came the music +of much laughter, and now and then the lilting of a song: sounds as +unaccustomed to Newt Spooner as grand opera. But the only impression +made on him was the realization that he was too early; so, when he found +a thick grove flanking the road, he climbed the fence and lay down under +a hedge and rested. While he was stretched there in the dewy grass, he +cocked and uncocked the revolver to make sure that, when he needed it, +it would not fail him. + +It was a night for lovers and lovers were availing themselves of it, but +to Newt Spooner the seductive whispers through the upper branches of the +oaks carried no message of peace or minstrelsy. Yet, even to him, there +was a dumb sense that life here in the great "down below" was a +different thing, and, as he lay there fingering the mechanism of his +revolver, he could not escape a large and disturbing wonderment. The +breadth of the sky made him feel small and alone in the center of +vastness. At home, mountain walls rose confiningly on all sides and one +looked up at a narrowed patch of stars as if from the depth of a great +well. But here one could gaze away on the level of the eyes and watch +the wonderful phenomenon of a heaven coming down with its stars to meet +the edge of the flattened earth. At home, one would ride the dirt roads +on muleback and in silence, save where the hoofs splashed along the +creek-beds. But here the horses beat a sharp rat-tat with metal shoes on +a metaled road, and the rubber-tired wheels ran noiselessly. These +people, too, reversed the order of things even as their country reversed +them. At home, almost every one was poor; here every one seemed rich, +and the women, whom every mountaineer knows should be treated as +inferiors, suited only to the tasks of housework and child-rearing, were +treated by the men as equals. That he knew from the chatter and laughter +of those who passed in earshot, driving two and two. And what fools they +all were, for surely no people who were not fools could chatter and +laugh and sing! + +After an hour, the buggies passed less frequently, leaving the road free +of travel, except for town-faring negroes on foot and singing. Then Newt +Spooner came out from behind his hedge and made his way once more along +the turnpike. What his eyes had once seen his memory retained with +photographic distinctness, and as soon as he reached the beginning of +the low stone fence, which he had noted that afternoon, he knew that he +was drawing near the dance. + +But Newt would have known that he was near his destination without the +fence, for already, though blurred by the distance into an indistinct +and formless spot of brightness and color, he could make out the +illumination of the Chinese lanterns and there came to his ears across +the softness of the night the merry strains of a band playing a +two-step. + +The mountain boy made a rapid survey. The house sat deeply back in the +woodland, some five hundred yards from the road, but the platform, +though almost directly at its front, lay nearer the farther side. The +lateral fences of the woodland were lined with locust groves, giving a +band of shadow along the edges. He might have crossed the fence at the +nearest corner and worked his way back, but time was not an object, and +so, before selecting his route, he went along the turnpike to the other +side of the place for fuller reconnaissance, and found there even better +and more continuous cover. Also, by taking that side, he was further +from the driveway and would arrive closer to the platform without +leaving the shadow. As Newt crossed into the woodland, he became +invisible, thanks to the inky shade of the locusts, just now heavy with +fragrance of bloom. The thickets of his own rhododendron and laurel +could not have availed him more serviceably. At his left were acres of +undulating bluegrass, broken generously with forest trees, and between +the trees lay a silver lake of open moonlight, dotted with islands of +shadow. But, by following the fence line back, he could invisibly draw +near to the platform, and creep still closer under the shelter of a +heavy growth of lilac bushes. + +Suddenly, the mountain boy's heart began to pound in a strange way. He +had never been afraid of anything and he was not afraid now, but as he +crept, like a woodland animal, close enough to take in details, he felt +as a man might feel who finds himself pursuing an enemy on Mars. He was +in a new world and one so strange to him that its very difference +brought a sense of misgiving. He had been born and reared in a +windowless mountain cabin of one room. His light at night had been that +of crackling logs on a stone hearth and a single lamp without a chimney. +He had heard hatred of enemies preached before he could talk himself. +That his present purpose was righteous, he passionately believed; that +one should pay his blood-debt seemed axiomatic. Yet, as he looked out, +he could not shake off that sense of strange uneasiness. Something was +wrong. Perhaps it was simply the inarticulate realization that the scene +was set for merry-making and not for tragedy. At home, it was different. +The mountains were sterner and bred sterner emotions. The darkness there +seemed grimmer, too. This was not the night or place for a murder. + +Criss crossed about the platform and between the trees swayed the vivid +color splashes of the lanterns, like magnified and luminous confetti. +Sifting and eddying on the swaying floor went the rhythmic whirlpool of +dancers. The soft colors of evening gowns, the ivory flashes of girlish +shoulders and the floating of filmy scarfs dizzied the boy, who by the +iron dictate of heredity and upbringing was a human rattle-snake. The +strange sight of men in evening dress, their shirt-fronts gleaming like +conspicuous targets, added to his bewilderment. + +Between the trees passed strolling couples whose laughter lilted +musically, and, as he crept nearer in the shadow of the lilac bushes, he +saw a queer little affair which was also new to him, only a few yards +away. It was a rustic summer-house, over the timbers of which trailed +masses of honey-suckle, and into it, as he lay there peering sharply +ahead, went a man and a girl. The man was dutifully wielding a fan after +the flush of the dance and talking earnestly in a low tone, and the girl +was laughing up into his face with a silvery softness so unlike the +nasal voices of his own kind that Newt could make nothing of it. Nowhere +was the hint of hardship: the hardship which was in his country life's +dominant note. Back at the rear in the moonlight, the whitewashed barns +and fences gleamed like structures of ivory. + +He lay there on his stomach, his elbows on the ground and his chin in +his hands, trying to search the faces of the dancers. But the dancers +shifted and sifted in so bewildering a maze that even had they been +nearer at hand he could hardly have identified familiar features. Then +the music stopped, and he drew a breath of relief, for the platform +partly emptied itself, and, as the couples came down and strolled under +the lanterns, it was easier to search for the face he wanted to see. + +Newt Spooner had been there perhaps an hour while waltz and two-step +alternated to set the human mass he was trying to sift into fresh and +maddening puzzles of rapid movement and vagueness. At the distance he +had decided it was hopeless, and though the summer-house under the +honey-suckle seemed a favorite retreat to which couple after couple came +for a moment of rest and innocent flirtation, it had not proved a Mecca +for his victim, if indeed his victim were there at all. Of this +possibility he now felt a diminishing credulity. He would, nevertheless, +try to slip closer for a final scrutiny and then go back to town, +admitting temporary defeat. Then, as with snake-like movements he was +hitching himself forward, he suddenly stopped and crouched closer to the +ground and held his intaken breath in his throbbing throat. + +A new couple came out of the shadow and strolled across the patch of +open moonlight toward the summer-house. The girl was she who had picked +him up on the road, and the man was Henry Falkins. Even in evening +dress, there was no mistaking the features, and that shirt-front was a +target to even an amateur's taste. + +The girl wore a filmy gown and about her bare shoulders was thrown some +silky thing as iridescent as gossamer. But, unlike those others who had +come there, she was not laughing. + +Instead, she was looking up with a very direct gaze into the man's face, +and her eyes and lips bore a somewhat wistful seriousness. + +At the front of the summer-house, her companion stopped and broke a +spray of bloom from the vine. + +"It always reminds me of you," he told her in a soft voice. "There may +be sweeter fragrances, but I doubt it. I guess that's why." + +He lifted a drooping branch of leaf and bloom, and she passed under his +arm. + +Newt Spooner was lying only a few yards away, but he must be closer. The +mass of vine obscured his line of vision, and he had no wish to kill +the girl. Behind his ambuscade of trellised supports, he could come near +enough to reach his hand through and touch his victim if he chose. It +was almost too simple--too easy. Yet, after all, it was a bad +arrangement, though that he could not remedy. He must announce himself +to the man he meant to kill, or defeat the satisfaction of revenge. To +let him die without realizing why would rob the punishment of its sting. +Then the woman would doubtless make an outcry, and his chance of escape +would end. Besides that there was a second objection: the girl had +befriended him. He was to some extent "beholden to her." He wished now +that he had refused to drive with her; but, when he had accepted her +invitation, he had had no idea that his purpose could concern her, and +his purpose came first. + +Newt Spooner drew very near. He cautiously pulled back a branch of the +honey-suckle, and looked through. The girl was sitting with her eyes +downcast, and the man standing with one knee on the rough bench. He was +leaning forward and his voice, though tense with earnestness, was almost +a whisper. Newt might at that moment have been noisy instead of +noiseless without danger of distracting the attention of that man and +woman. + +At home in the mountains, Henry Falkins would have been more wary, but +here in the bluegrass he had laid aside all thoughts of danger, as he +had laid aside his high-laced boots and corduroys. He was standing at +the other side of life's gamut. Enmity, for him, did not exist. The +universe was filled, he believed at that moment, to the boundary of the +last sentinel star with love. The night breathed it. He was breathing +it, the girl's eyes were just then raised to meet his, brimming with a +light that set his pulses bounding. + +"Back there in the hills," he said, "there is a place high up the +mountainside that looks down on such a night as this over an ocean of +silver mists in the valley. I have often gone there alone and listened +to the nightingale talking about you. After this," he added joyously, +"all nights will be moonlight and starlight for me, dear, if--" But +there he broke off and became silent. + +Newt Spooner advanced one knee a few inches, and steadied his position. +He drew the vine back a little further with his left hand, and slowly +thrust his right into his coat pocket. When it came back, it held the +pistol, and this Newt placed at his back, that the soft click of its +cocking might be muffled by his intervening body. + + * * * * * + +The stars were as bright and the moon as serene that night back in the +broken ramparts of the mountains as here in the lowlands. No hint of +brewing tragedy disturbed the majesty of the summits that raised their +crests into the cobalt, or marred the silvery flood that bathed the +valleys. + +Where the college buildings nestled in a tidy village near the waters of +Fist-fight Creek, the picture was a nocturne that must have brought joy +to the heart of a painter whose soul responds to the beautiful. + +Already, in the dormitories, most of the children were asleep, but one +girl, who was half child and half woman, crept noiselessly down the +stairs of the building where she had her room, and made her way to the +creek-bank. + +She had spent a longer time over her studies than had her fellow pupils, +because in her serious little breast burned a hunger for that education +which might open new ways and make for her a life beyond the +imprisonment of her environment. + +In years, Minerva Rawlins was a child, but the life of her people brings +early maturity and into her little brain had recently been creeping the +restlessness of new things--and of womanhood. To-night, the plaintive +call of the whippoorwills from the deep shadows of the timber was a call +to be under open skies, where the thoughts that assailed her might not +feel cramped within walls. There were many things of which she must +think--and it happened that the subject uppermost in her mind was Henry +Falkins. + +She went with lithe tread and pliant carriage down beyond the saw-mill +to a spot where the sycamores hung low by the waters that swirled in a +cascade over a litter of huge rocks. On the steep mountainside beyond, +the flowering laurel and rhododendron were thick, and the forests hardly +showed a scar from the axes that had claimed the timber for the +buildings. She had discovered that here through a gap between two +summits she could see the same pale star to which the single pine had +pointed back there from the front door of the cabin, which, wretched as +it was, had been her only idea of home. In the silvers and grays and +cobalts of the picture, and in the night song of the whippoorwills and +booming frogs, there was solace, and to-night she wanted solace. + +She told herself that this restlessness which would not let her sleep +was loneliness; but beyond that single feeling were others more complex +for which she had no analysis. + +There was the starving eagerness for something very different from what +wares life had ever spread to her gaze, some yearning that had crept +down through lapsed generations from an ancestor or ancestress who had +known the courtly life of Old Virginia before the pioneer tide swept +them westward to their stranding. This hunger was a fiery thing, which +made the eagerness to learn blaze hotly because its attainment meant +struggle. + +Then there was the conflict between that loyalty which the code of the +Cumberlands impresses as a cardinal duty upon its children, and an +insurgent hatred for the squalid family into which her father's second +marriage had thrown her. + +The law of feudalism and of the clan writes at the head of its +decalogue, "Kith and kin above all." Minerva would have resented an +implication of wanted staunchness, and yet as she sat with her small and +well-chiseled chin cradled in the hands, which drudgery must soon make +hard and shapeless, her eyes filled with tears and her slender body +trembled with instinctive repulsion at the thought of return to the +cabin where the razor-backed hogs would scratch their backs under the +gaping floor timbers, and where darkness hung day-long between +smoke-blackened rafters. + +And though she did not admit that either, a part of the restlessness was +the awakening of womanhood, and the woman's hunger for love. She thought +of all the young men she knew back there; of the boorish creatures whose +breath reeked with moonshine whiskey, and whose thoughts were as coarse +as their brogans, and once more a shiver ran through her. + +It all made her feel very wicked. She had come to the college and +learned a little, and she had learned above all a fastidious discontent, +which was poisoning her thoughts. + +She told herself she ought to be very happy. Then a smile stole across +her face as she sat there in the moonlight, and she drew from the collar +of her calico dress a small medal on a string. It was a medal that had a +few days before been awarded her for proficiency, but to her it stood +for the nearest glimpse she had ever had of romance, though of romance +passing by like a caravan which she had viewed from the wayside. + +There had been spelling matches and recitations and the award of small +prizes at the college, and the rough folk had trooped in from the +countryside, riding mules or walking from many miles about. Women had +come in bright-hued calicoes and sun-bonnets, and bearded, gaunt men in +hodden-gray. Through that gathering and above it, since one who is very +young and very inexperienced may be pardoned for a finger-touch from the +gods of romance, a figure had stood out for Minerva Rawlins, endowed +with every superiority. + +The guests of honor on that occasion had been Old Mack Falkins and his +son Henry. Old Mack had made a speech and, in awarding the prizes, his +son had followed him. The people of the countryside had listened, and +their applause had rocked the rafters, with that sincerity of admiration +which they accorded to his native-born eloquence. But it was the younger +man who had brought to Minerva Rawlins her first stir of hero-worship; +the adulation of the inexperienced young girl for the first man she had +seen who seemed an exemplar and a revelation. + +Comparison is the one yard-stick of life, and by comparison this young +man, who had lived the life of the outer world as well as that at home, +might well have loomed large to such impressionable eyes. + +Minerva was seeing that scene again; the school-room with its shuffling +audience, and the young speaker whose words carried no taint of dialect +or inelegance, as he spoke of the torch which was being lighted here to +dispel the murk of illiteracy. + +What Henry Falkins had said became in a fashion Minerva's standards. She +found herself hating the lawlessness of the feud and the squalor of +backwoods ignorance. She found herself wishing to be a recruit in the +little army that sought to raise other ideals--but most of all she +found herself longing rebelliously for the chance to have in her own +life the companionship of some man like that. To herself she put it that +way. She did not say _that_ man, but, when she said "some man like +that," the features and bearing and voice of young Falkins portrayed +themselves, and as she sat with the medal in her fingers, listening to +the whippoorwills, her fancy conjured up his image. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +When Newt Spooner had begun his search for Henry Falkins that afternoon +he had not been so unobserved as he thought himself. Not very far behind +him had walked Red Newton. He had not left Cawsler's with any intention +of spying upon the boy and had seen him only by chance, yet when the +latter halted in front of the hotel and stood there with the telltale +expression which the recognition of Falkins brought to his face, Red +Newton observed it and slipped silently into the door of a convenient +store. When Newt went running excitedly back to Cawsler's place, the +brain of the older clansman began to work rapidly. To his memory +recurred the tirade that had broken so tempestuously from the boy's +lips. + +"I knows what I'm atter. I knows who I'm ergwine ter git. Thar's a +feller I'm ergwine ter kill." The unforgiving malice in the boy's eyes, +the rigid posture of his whole body as he stood contemplating his enemy, +told Red Newton the whole story. This, then, was the man Newt meant to +kill. It was logical enough. This was the witness who had riddled the +alibi. + +At first, Red Newton shrugged his shoulders in the fashion of one who +has no call to meddle in the affairs of others, but as fresh aspects of +the matter presented themselves to his consideration, a very real danger +to all his family arose to confront him. + +If Newt should shoot Henry Falkins on the streets of Winchester before +the speaking of this afternoon, it would stir into action such a tidal +wave of public indignation against the mountaineers that the more vital +conspiracy would be thwarted. He surmised that Newt was rushing back to +Cawsler's place to arm himself, and his first instinct was to follow. +Then he remembered that the place was now empty save for the drunken +Dode, and Cawsler himself, whose discretion could be trusted. So, he +took no action, and, when later the same buggy passed the court-house +and within a few moments Newt went swinging along after it on foot, the +disappointed face of the boy told the other that he had failed. Red +Newton rubbed his stubbled chin reflectively, bit off a large chew of +tobacco and withdrew into his inner consciousness for reflection. As the +result of those cogitations he strolled over to the hitching rack where +he found a lowland farmer with whom he had spent a part of the morning +talking cattle. + +"Stranger," he suggested, "I 'lowed I'd love to ride out the road a +piece, an' I figgered I'd ask ye ter lend me yore horse fer about a +half-hour. I hain't ergwine fur, an' I won't ride him hard. I'll do es +much fer you when you come up my way." + +With ready assent, the farmer went over and untied his plug, and Red +Newton swung himself to the saddle. Then he rode slowly and casually +after the boy. He did not try to overtake him, satisfying himself with +keeping him in sight, while he himself remained too far back to be +recognizable. But Red Newton had affairs of consequence in town, so, as +soon as he was satisfied that Newt had lost sight of the buggy, he +turned back. He intended to mention the circumstance to Black Pete, but +Black Pete was keeping discreetly out of sight, and so he found no +opportunity for speech with him. + +Meanwhile, the throng about the court-house was thickening, and Red +Newton caught sight of Jake Falerin making his way to a place near the +stand. That was his own cue for action, so, forgetting minor things, and +keeping as inconspicuous as possible, he began edging toward a position +of proximity in Falerin's rear. He signaled with a nod to one of his +kinsmen, who was standing silently, but alertly, a little way off, and +who at once began working forward in answer to the sign. The plan worked +with well-oiled smoothness. Red Newton came so close that he almost +brushed shoulders with his intended victim, and even when he stood at +Jake Falerin's back, chewing his tobacco with as little expression as a +cow chewing its cud, Falerin did not turn around or suspect his +presence. + +As the speaking went forward, Red Newton cast his eyes about, and placed +those of his kinsmen who were present. It had not been deemed advisable +to have the clan largely represented, and it gave him pleasure to +recognize that Falerins largely out-numbered Spooners. Later, when the +question of self-defense and placing the responsibility arose, it would +appear that the Falkins element had come en masse, and from this +circumstance would arise a presumption of malice aforethought on their +part. That would materially strengthen the Spooner defense. In dividing +the mountain men into the two factions of Spooner and Falkins, Red +followed the classification of the feud. The Falerins and Hulburts and +their kindred were "Falkinses," though they bore other names, just as he +himself, though a Newton, was nevertheless a Spooner. + +At the psychological moment, Red Newton stepped forward and violently +dug his elbow into Jake Falerin's midriff. Falerin wheeled to see who +was crowding him, and the eyes of the two mountaineers met in a glance +which escaped the generality of upturned faces. So well did each +understand what a quarrel between them must mean that Jake did not hedge +an inch nor attempt to evade the issue. He planted his left fist on Red +Newton's jaw, while he drew with his right. But Red Newton was the more +prepared, though, as he reeled back under the blow, he would have +fallen, had there been room to fall. As it was he leaned against the +crowd, and fired from that position, just a fraction of a second before +Falerin's weapon came free of the holster. It was only those directly at +Red's back who saw the swift play, and to their eyes it bore the seeming +of self-defense. In the same instant, the kinsman at Red Newton's +shoulder fired on the attorney so suddenly that it looked as if he too +were aiming at Falerin's head, instead of just to its side. + +Later in the afternoon, Black Pete, whose name had been mentioned to the +commonwealth attorney by several of the Falerins, walked voluntarily +into the office of that functionary. His demeanor was quiet and deeply +grieved. Moreover, it was characterized by a show of frankness that was +disarming. He said he would be glad to submit to a search--that he never +went armed. He feared that in an indirect way, though entirely without +his intent, he had been instrumental in bringing on the afternoon's +deplorable tragedy. The commonwealth's attorney was astounded at this +unsolicited statement, verging so closely on a confession, and felt +impelled to warn the Deacon that he might yet find himself a defendant, +and that whatever he said would be used against him. Had the Deacon been +addicted to smiling he would have smiled then. As it was, he only nodded +his head gravely, half sadly, as he stood there, his hands in his +pockets, and his steady gray eyes unwaveringly holding those of his +inquisitor. + +"I reckon that's right, an' I'm obliged to you," he answered +respectfully, "but I find as I go 'long that a man gets just as far by +tellin' the full truth." + +"Just as you like. What part did you have in this affair?" demanded the +state prosecutor--a little too eagerly. + +"Maybe you'd better let me tell it my own way," suggested Black Pete +imperturbably. "I haven't got much education and I may ramble a little, +but I'll do my best. You know all about the feud, I reckon? I went West +years ago, and out there I got to see that these things are foolish. A +sort of truce was patched up finally, and it was agreed that I must stay +West, and Jake Falerin must leave the mountains, too. I got a little +money saved up, and sent word that I was comin' home to settle up a +mortgage on my sister's farm, and attend to some other family business. +I didn't aim to stay, and I haven't been any closer to the mountains +than right here. I wasn't goin' any closer till everybody agreed to it. +I didn't think these fellers would fight right here in Winchester." + +The Deacon stood with the regretful air of one who has been disappointed +in his confidence as to the worthiness of others. At last, he continued +in a conscience-stricken tone: + +"I've been studyin' about it considerable since it happened. I'm afraid +the Falerins saw me, and figured I'd broke the truce by comin' back, +and, when Jake met Red in the crowd, they both got panicky, and begun to +shoot." + +That was all the Deacon had to state except his promise to remain in +Winchester, subject to the call of the commonwealth. He knew that no +one, save a handful whom he could trust, could implicate him in the +conspiracy, which he had devised and engineered. His claws and fangs +were well-tucked under his sheep's hide of innocence. While he was in +the law-office, the jailer arrived with news that Red Newton and his +other prisoner had asked to see Black Pete Spooner, with a view to +employing counsel for their defense. The Deacon turned to the +commonwealth's attorney. + +"What do you think?" he said. "I reckon these boys have that privilege, +haven't they? I want to be fair all round. If they did shoot in +self-defense, I want them to have their rights, but I'll be here if you +need me." + +So, late in the afternoon, in the privacy of the cell which the two +mountaineers complacently shared, the Deacon heard from Red how the boy, +Newt, fresh from the penitentiary, was already on the trail of a +"marked-down" victim. It was news that disconcerted the master assassin +to a degree which he would not have cared to admit. These men depended +upon making a case of self-defense, and looked to him to see them +through. The gravest element that confronted them was the violent +dislike of the bluegrass, where they must face trial, for the murderous +tendencies of the mountains. If there should occur on the heels of the +first tragedy a second, traceable to a mountain man, the fat would be in +the fire. At all costs, young Newt must for the present hold his hand. +Above all else, that was imperative. Black Pete questioned the prisoner +searchingly and learned that Newt had gone out Main Street, and Red had +followed him for some distance. Therefore, that was the road young Newt +would watch, and the road upon which young Newt must be watched. Cawsler +later reported the manner in which the boy had come demanding arms, and +the Deacon bitterly regretted having surrendered to him his own pistol. + +And Newt had disappeared. Of each Spooner he met, the Deacon demanded +news of his whereabouts. Finally, near the court-house, he met a man who +had seen the sought-for one sauntering slowly out the road near the edge +of town. Since it was only a few minutes before, he could not have gone +far. + +The Deacon hurried forward, and from a party of incoming negroes he +learned of the dance, which explained the procession of buggies and gave +him a clew. Probably, Newt had learned that his intended victim would be +there. At least, it would be worth investigating. But of Newt himself he +saw nothing, for when he reached the spot where the boy had climbed the +fence to kill time behind the hedge, he unwittingly passed him by. At +the beginning of the stone fence, where he caught first the music and +the light of the festivities, his eye took in the growth of locusts and +his mountain mind reckoned by swift processes. Here was such natural +cover as a man would be likely to seek in working his way +surreptitiously rearward. He had begun to fear he might be too late, in +which event his coming at all would be more fatal than staying away. +That haste prevented his using the most exhaustive caution, and so he +did not explore to the far side of the woodland, but crossed the fence +at the nearest corner and went swiftly back, skulking in the shadow. In +point of fact, instead of being later than the boy, he arrived first, +but on the opposite side of the broad lawn. When he had gone back as far +as the house level, his painstaking search commenced. He was not only +endeavoring to remain concealed, important as that was, but also to +penetrate the shadows and find the other hidden man. It was a thing that +would have been sheer impossibility but for his splendid wood-craft and +the catlike focus of his eyes in the night. So, when he had exhausted +the possibilities on that side of the house to his full satisfaction, he +recognized his mistake, and knew that he had wasted precious time. He +should be on the far side, and, taking a long detour which carried him +far to the rear of the barns and led him behind the fence line of the +paddock lots, he worked his way up again to the front until he reached +the edge of the lilac bushes, and could see the summer-house. To that +spot he began crawling noiselessly, and, led by a sure instinct, and +while still some fifty yards away, his trained eye caught a stealthy +shadow also hitching forward at his front. There still lay between him +and Newt Spooner the matter of some thirty yards, and, even if he rose +to his feet and ran for it, he would overtake the boy so close to the +vine-covered retreat that any sound of interference would result in the +discovery of both. He did not personally know that the summer-house was +occupied, but he argued it from the movements of the other skulker. Newt +was so engrossed in his hate that at this particular moment he had eyes +and ears only for the front. Between the lilac thicket where Black Pete +crouched and the vine shadows where Newt knelt, lay an open space of +flooding radiance, but it was directly behind the summer-house, and, +unless Newt saw him crossing it, no one was apt to see. The Deacon rose +to his feet and ran for it. + +As Newt thrust the revolver behind him to cock it, Black Pete's hand +closed silently around his, and Black Pete's thumb was jammed between +the back-drawn hammer and the firing-pin. + +[Illustration: Black Pete's thumb was jammed between the back-drawn +hammer and the firing pin] + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Henry Falkins and Lucinda Merton had not kept close count on the flying +moments since they had entered the summer-house. The girl had promised +to sit out two consecutive dances with him, since to-morrow morning he +must go back to the mountains. So, having only a little while and much +to say, he had plunged in, and, though his voice was low, his words came +tumultuously. Of course, she knew that he was in love with her, but +until to-night it had been a thing which had been given no concrete +declaration. Except for a glow of confession in her eyes, she had said +nothing of loving him. Yet now, when he wished to claim every moment for +himself, she had asked him to tell her about his hills and their people, +of whom she and her world knew so little. + +"I want you to understand the life and conditions there," he told her, +"and yet I don't want to talk of that to-night. I would like to paint +for you true pictures of my mountains just as they look under this moon, +as they will look when to-morrow's sun comes up over the peaks and +begins to drive away the lingering mists; of the elder bushes and +rhododendron and wild roses that bloom on the tangled slopes; but +to-night I want to talk only of you and me." + +He paused, and her voice carried a responsive thrill as she said: + +"I should love your mountains! It must all be very beautiful--but so +different from this." Her eyes traveled out with native pride over the +smooth opulence of the country, which had seemed the Promised Land to +the eyes of its pioneer discoverers. + +"Yes," he admitted; "it is very different. We have rugged fields and +rugged people. Down here you spring from Cavalier stock. But to-night +there are in the world only ourselves. Let's talk of our private +universe." His voice was feverishly eager. "Until I can in some way +improve my fortunes, God knows I ought to be silent as to love." He +leaned forward and added desperately: "But I can't be silent. After all, +what is the use? You know I love you. If I never spoke a syllable of it, +you would still know it. You can feel it in the tremor of my hand when I +take yours in greeting. And if I lock my lips, my eyes give them the +lie. You know I love you, but you will never know how much." + +He leaned forward and his breath came fast while his heart pounded with +the great anxiety of putting his fortunes to the touch. He had knowledge +of other lovers who had come and gone; gone very reluctantly, from the +quest of her heart. + +He had known her a year, and friendship had grown into that intimacy +which tacitly admits something deeper than the casual. In her house he +had been accepted almost as a member of the family--but that need not +mean that he was accepted as a lover. In his mountains such an +association would have been tantamount to an engagement, but here in the +bluegrass it was different. + +There had been sometimes a quality in her smile which he had never seen +on her lips or in her eyes for other men, and she must know of his love. +Still, he had heretofore been content to hope without certainty--and now +the moment had come when, if he had builded on false dreams, he must +wake to a reality of which he could think only with terror. + +For his own crude land, he was a rich man, whose status was the status +of a baron; but, down here in the counties of aristocracy and wealth, he +was poor and a mountaineer. + +"I suppose," he went on, with a voice that came from a taut throat, +which he forced into measured syllables, "I suppose that until I can +offer you a home like this, I should not ask you to confess a love for +me, even if you could feel it. I can't even ask you to marry me yet, and +still because you must know it, because you have a heart that must tell +you, it seems to me that it is only hypocritical to lock my lips. My +heart is too full to be damned up. It must have utterance. It must say, +'I love you.' I can't go on any longer being just a favored friend." He +paused a moment and wiped the moisture of his anxiety from his brow, and +his voice was tensely even in its control. "It means too much now, for +that. If I am living in a fool's paradise I must know it before it is +too late. They say we men of the Cumberlands have somber natures that +take things seriously. To hope too long--and then fail--" He broke off +again and added quietly--"that would be a thing that would utterly ruin +me. I love you." + +The girl did not at once speak. He saw that her face was downcast and +that her breast rose and fell, in an emotion which might be pity. +Perhaps she, too, found speech difficult because she was merciful. A man +and a girl were coming toward the summer-house, and Henry Falkins +watched them with a fascination of fear lest they interrupt. The seconds +seemed to stretch into an interminable suspense. Slowly he put out his +hand, and took hers. Her fingers trembled in his grasp and slowly he +bent and kissed her lowered head. + +"I am waiting," he whispered; but something in the voice said more and +told her of the torture of his doubt. + +At last, very slowly, her face came up and her eyes met his. They were +misty eyes, but smiling, and as he bent with a wild leaping of his +pulses and took her in his arms, her lips, too, met his, responsive to +his kisses. + +Finally he rose, and now it was his own hands that trembled and his own +senses that swam with the intoxication of a happiness which seemed to +him miraculous. + +"I suppose," laughed the girl, "I ought to be ashamed to surrender so +quickly--but I'm not. I'm very proud." + +For a moment after that they sat silent and across the moonlight came +the band music and the softened laughter of the dancers. And it was at +that moment that Newt Spooner, so close that they could almost have +heard his breathing, was reaching into his pocket for his borrowed +revolver. The pause was brief, for the girl, looking into her lover's +eyes, became suddenly beset by a new thought--perhaps some subtle +premonition--and in its wake came panic. She laid her hands on his +shoulders and bent so close that he could feel the play of her breath on +his forehead. + +"But you are going back there," she exclaimed; "back to the mountains, +and I'm afraid. Are you in any danger, because, if you are, you sha'n't +go! I won't let you go. Why, only to-day, there in Winchester, think +what happened!" + +The man laughed. + +"I sha'n't be hurt," he assured her. "Your love will be my talisman." + +"If my love has such power," she exclaimed, "you will go on living to +the end of time." + +He took her two hands in his. + +"Let's have no thought of danger to-night," he said. "To-night belongs +to love, dearest: to love and to us." + +And that was the exact moment at which Black Pete Spooner closed his +hand over the pistol, thrusting his thumb between hammer and pin, and +his forefinger between trigger and guard. + +So suddenly interrupted at the threshold of his attainment, a man from +the lowlands would have betrayed himself with oath or exclamation, or at +least have struggled noisily in the grip that thwarted him. Newt +Spooner was a mountaineer. Ambuscading caution was to him as instinctive +as to the fox or weasel. He felt his hand drawn down at his back so +forcibly that, crouching with his weight on one knee and one foot, he +could not rise--yet he remained utterly noiseless. He carefully turned +his head, and at the distance of a few inches recognized, even in the +darkness, the drooping mustache and square jaw of the Deacon. The Deacon +was holding a finger of the disengaged hand to his lips in an imperative +command for silence. Black Pete was always a diplomat. He regarded this +moment as one of rather desperate crisis, calling for extreme finesse. + +No word of explanation could be spoken; the slightest sound of scuffling +would give the alarm fatal to both. He knew that the implacable hatred +of this single-idead boy was not a thing to yield readily. So he +continued to put into his manner and touch something of subtle and +friendly reassurance, lest Newt flare into reckless and needless +antagonism. And Newt felt at the moment a wave of relief in recognizing +one of his own people. + +The strategist gently shook the hand which held the weapon in hint that +Newt should surrender it, while he nodded and laid the other hand +conciliatingly on the boy's shoulder. But Newt, although he made no +sound or motion, held tightly to the pistol, and so for a moment while +Henry Falkins was boasting of his safety with the confidence of youth +and love, his intended assassin crouched not six feet away while the +man who sought to prevent his act bent over him, holding his hand, and +the wills of the two wrestled in utter silence. + +There is in all leaders, good or bad, a psychological, almost hypnotic +element of power which can, at need, act without words. Black Pete was +recognized so thoroughly as a man of leadership that the enemy talked +peace only on the basis of his exile. Newt Spooner had always regarded +him with awe as the leader of his clan. Moreover, the Deacon's attitude +just now was rather that of a friend who carried a warning than that of +an enemy. The hypnotism of his masterful quiet was telling on the +infuriated boy and yet there flared anew in his breast a dangerous +resentment against the balking of his purpose. How it might have ended +is problematical, but as they held their strained pose, and as Henry +Falkins talked on in false security, a second couple came strolling to +the summer-house. Finding it occupied, they banteringly apologized for +intrusion, while Miss Merton and her escort blushingly declared +themselves on the point of departure, and went back to the dance. So the +chance was gone. Slowly, Newt surrendered his pistol, and the Deacon +silently rose to his feet and pointed off through the bushes. The boy +strode sullenly on ahead and neither he nor his captor made a sound or +spoke a word until they had progressed so far into the shadow that they +were safe from overhearing. Then and then only Newt wheeled. His voice +was almost a sob in its bitter and vibrant passion, as, with blazing +eyes and snarling teeth, he demanded: + +"What in hell did ye do thet fur? Damn ye, he b'longs ter me. Ye didn't +hev no call ter interfere." He threw himself prone on the ground, +clawing into it with his lean fingers as a frenzied animal might claw, +and his thin body racked itself with silent sobs of anger and +frustration. It ended in a fit of coughing which he could not control, +and which he smothered in his two hands until the paroxysm passed. + +The Deacon sought to soothe him. Most mountaineers speak with a nasal +harshness, but this man had the exceptional quality that gave to his +words an ingratiating and velvety smoothness. + +"Don't worry, son. I wouldn't have interfered, only I was obliged to. +He's your enemy, and he did you wrong, but this ain't the moment to kill +him. Go back home and bide your time. If you need help, call on me after +a little." + +"Hits as fitten a time es any," blurted Newt tensely. "They hain't no +manner of use puttin' hit off. I tells ye I'm ergwine ter git him. Hit +hain't ergwine ter do no good to argify with me. Nothin' hain't ergwine +ter change me none." + +"Son," insisted the other calmly, "I ain't aimin' to change you. I've +never let men change me, have I? But there's a time for everything, an' +just now you must hearken to me." He sketched briefly and forcibly his +interviews in the office of the commonwealth attorney and at the jail. +He enlarged on the fatality of having another shooting by a mountaineer +tread so close on the heels of the first tragedy. + +"You ain't aimin' to put these boys' necks into ropes, son," he +suggested chidingly at the end. "You can get your man without makin' +your own kin pay such a steep price. All I ask of you is to pass me your +word that you won't do anything until you get back to the hills. Seems +to me that's fair enough." + +Newt sat silent for a time, scowling blackly, but at last he rose and +nodded. + +"I gives ye my hand on thet--because I don't see no way ter holp +myself," he capitulated. It is the mountain's formula of oath, and +though the men who use it rarely shake hands, its utterance is a +recognized bond. + +"Come along to town with me," suggested the Deacon. "You can sleep at my +boardin' place, and in the morning you can start out." + +But to that proposition Newt shook his head. + +"I aims ter start right now, es soon es I kin buy a snack ter put in my +pocket," he announced decisively. "Which road goes towards Jackson?" +When at last he did lie down for sleep that night, it was under the lee +of a last year's straw stack and surrounded by the rustling spears of +this year's corn, where he could look up at the stars and call defiantly +upon them all to bear witness that he had no intention of being deterred +by the interference of any man. + +It had been a very exhausting day, strenuous with much footsore +tramping; strenuous, too, with the buffeting of emotions as sudden and +violent as the tempests which sometimes swept across his hills; bending +the forests, lashing the sandstone ramparts, shrieking through valleys +and cannonading along the slopes. And like the hills when such a storm +has wreaked its noisy wrath and swollen all the thread-like streams to +freshets, he lay by his straw stack supine and shaken. It seemed to him +that he had only just stretched himself out on the straw when he opened +his eyes to see the east pallidly kindling with the preface of dawn, yet +it had been long enough for his limbs to have cramped and chilled under +the moisture of the night. He rose and ate a small supply of his +provender, and took a swig from the flask, wiping the mouth of the +bottle with his palm, after the custom of his country. After that he +started on with the gray dawn growing rosy at his front. At length, he +halted and drew a long breath of relief and satisfaction, for already he +was beginning to recognize, in the changing character of the country, +harbingers of home. The smooth swell of the bluegrass began to break +into a choppier formation and assume raggedness, while far away the +sky-line was broken by a climbing back-bone of foothills. + +Unless he could mend his rate of travel he had still ahead several days +of journeying, but early in the afternoon, when he sat down to rest, it +was by a woodland stream where the underbrush grew in a tangle and the +wild roses were blooming among scrub oaks. Cornucopias of the +trumpet-flower flared vividly, and here and there he caught a glimpse +of a chinked log-cabin. That night he slept at Clay City, where the +channel of Red River was almost choked with logs; logs floated down from +higher up. Once more he slept in a "feather-bed," for a distant relative +had taken him in, willing to "eat an' sleep him" for no greater +remuneration than the news of what had happened in Winchester; willing +even to produce from some hidden place a jug from which moonshine liquor +ran white and colorless. + +The next day brought such a dawn as he had not seen since he had left +Jackson with cuffed wrists, a dawn in which the sun did not blaze forth +at once unobscured, but came up to dissipate the mists and flare redly +through their vanishing, before he stood forth master of the day. And +even then the skies were full of sullen hinting at rain. Nature seemed +to brood in accord with his own dreariness of mind; and wisps of cloud +trailed down the summits, as he nodded with a curt, "I'm obleeged ter +ye," and pushed onward, boring into hills that grew ever taller and +wilder. + +At last, he came to Jackson, the shack town that is the county seat of +Breathitt, which the world knows as "bloody." But even the twisting and +steep streets beyond the bridge offered this traveler no security for +tarrying. Jackson knew that in Winchester Jake Falerin had fallen, and +that Black Pete was back from the West, and Jackson was a Falerin +strong-hold. The outlook was for stormy days, and it would be as well +for the boy to push at once to his own section, some twenty miles away, +where along the waters of Troublesome and Lost Creeks he would be among +his own people. In front of the court-house and along the main street he +saw groups of men, some of them Falkinses and some Spooners, and though +there was no open hostility, they separated studiously into their own +respective groups and their movements were characterized by an alertness +which told of mutual and restive suspicion. + +Newt Spooner was not afraid, but just now he was not wasting his +activities. Moreover, he was still half-sick and not courting quarrels +save those of his own choosing. As he strolled through the streets of +the town, no one seemed to notice him. He had been forgotten. He paused +before the court-house with the small "jail-house" squatting in the yard +and surveyed both with wormwood bitterness of unforgiving memory. + +Across the street where brick banks and modern plate-glass store fronts +stood jammed between frontier-like shacks, he halted once more. Court +was adjourning for the noon recess, and a homicide jury came out of the +dingy doors, marching in columns of twos, while behind, shirt-sleeved +and collarless, stalked the sheriff, herding the panel to its mid-day +meal and bearing a long hickory staff. They were rude and bearded men, +for the most part spare and sinewy, but the elder among them tramped +with a shambling gait that told of unrelieved drudgery. + +Newt made his way to the north end of the town, and took the road +across the hills. By nightfall he would be in his own territory. + +Now he was once more treading familiar trails, and though he was tired +and the way became steeper, he walked with a resilient stride. The roads +along the valley gulches were only creek-beds, and where they looped +over the tops of ridges they were uneven stairways of broken rock. +Sometimes for a little space they ran level along high banks where the +sand was like that of a beach. But Newt had taken off his shoes and as +he splashed along the water courses, where straining "jolt-wagons" had +cut smooth ruts almost hub-deep into the shaly beds, the grateful water +stimulated him. About him were great forests almost virgin to the ax. +Spruce pines and walnuts and poplars towered over him, and the road +dipped often through a gloom like that of a dim chapel. Down there +little cascades whispered, and out of fern banks rose huge brown and +gray and green bowlders of sandstone, like altars of the Druids. The +rhododendron, which his people called "laurel," and the laurel, which +they called "ivy," cloaked the open slopes. It was a country where a +good walker can travel faster afoot than mounted. He drank from wayside +springs and from the flask which his kinsman had refilled. His mind +turned to its magnet, and he planned anew the death of Henry Falkins, +but now that he was at home he planned with confidence of success and in +this conviction he found a certain contentment. It was something to be +where he belonged and something to walk free of the chaingang. Around +him the hills closed in comforting tiers of ramparts. From the high +points of the road, he could look off over valleys to other peaks and +see here and there the roof of a cabin with its small patch of corn and +its rude out-houses. He passed tilting fields where red and blue calico +dresses flashed as entire families worked with hoes, and roadside +habitations of logs where raggedy children fled inside to gaze timidly +around the corners of door-jambs. Razor-backed hogs and flocks of geese +wandered near every habitation, and mules flapped their long ears as +they looked out from primitive stables, fashioned by closing in with +fence shelters under overhanging shelves of rock. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +When the pitchiness of night closed in until it seemed that the +mountains moved up and huddled closer together, Newt was on +well-remembered roads and did not pause. In an hour or two the moon +would be up, and he would reach the cabin which he called home. + +With the coming of the moon the hills underwent a wizardry of beauty +which was lost on the boy. First, silvery threads of light began to +weave along the bristling ridges of the east and opalescent flecks to +glimmer overhead. Then a soft blue-gray light filtered down the slopes; +throwing the shoulders of the mountains into relief and bathing the +lowlands in a luminous mist. The waters of Troublesome caught the glint +and the frogs boomed out from bass to treble, while back in the timbered +slopes the whippoorwills set up a plaintive chorus. + +Ahead of him Newt saw his destination. A cabin of logs stood darkly at +the side of the road, marking his journey's end. Though the moon struck +across the small hard-tramped yard, the house threw its shadow forward +and was itself a block of darkness from which shone no light. That was +because there was no light to shine, except what came from the +fireplace, and because there was no window through which it might show. +But Newt needed no illumination. He knew every wretched detail by heart. +There was one room only, except for the lean-to shed, which served as +kitchen and dining-room, and that was reached by going outside and +walking around the corner of the house. The one room was pictured on his +mind almost as clearly as he trudged toward its door-step as it could be +when he entered it. Through the slabs of the puncheon floor the wind +came in gusty weather. In each of the four corners was a large double +bed with feather mattresses, for the family, when he had left home, had +numbered six. About the log walls on pegs driven into the chinking would +be hanging such articles of clothing as were not in use, except such +other articles as were thrust in disorder under the beds. Unless the +family had "lain down" they would be huddling about the hearth with +their shoes off, for even in June when the night chill came it was +customary to kindle an evening fire. Always in the past, his great +grandfather, old Luke Spooner, had sat at the right-hand corner of that +hearth, mumbling into his long white beard. Newt wondered if he would +still be there. He had been almost a centenarian when they took the +grandson away to the penitentiary; his sight almost gone, his hearing +almost gone, his brain wasted to a remnant of nightmare brooding, but +his physical vitality holding out like a spent and stubborn fortress. +Once he had been among the most feared of feudists, tireless, unafraid, +vindictive and honest. He would hardly be there now, reflected Newt. He +must have died by this time. One member of his family only would he +greet with any feeling akin to welcome. His father had in his rough way +been fond of him, and Newt in an equally wolfish fashion had +reciprocated the feeling. It had never been expressed in words or +demonstration, for of these things the mountaineer is as chary as a +grizzly. Often in the long warfare of quarreling and bickering between +his father and mother, which Newt regarded as a natural and universal +incident of family life, his "pappy" had taken his side and rescued him +from a "whopping." + +Newt thought he would be glad to see his father. + +He crossed the stile, hewn in rough steps from a poplar stump, and +strode over to the broken mill-stone that served as a door-step. He +shouted, "I'm a-comin' in," and pushed at the door. It was barred. That +was a sign of the troublesome condition of the times. The mountaineer +shouts an announcement of his coming from a distance to avoid the +seeming of surreptitiousness, but, having reached the threshold, does +not knock. + +"Who's thet?" called a high-pitched, irritable voice from the interior. +It was his mother's voice, and Newt replied: + +"Hit's me, Mammy. Let me in." + +No outburst or murmur of surprise broke from the cabin at the +announcement of the prodigal's return. He heard only the rasping of a +bar being drawn from its sockets, and then the door swung in. Newt +entered, and with no offer to embrace his mother cast an appraising +glance about the place, which the logs on the hearth revealed in a +wavering light. The corners of the room were darkly shadowed, but the +semicircle about the fireplace was red and yellow from the flames. The +rafters were smoke-blackened, and an odor hung between the walls like +that in a house used for curing hams. + +About the fire sat the family group, but none of them rose to welcome +him. At the right hand corner sat old Luke. He was not dead then, after +all, though just now he was sleeping with his bearded, mummy-like face +fallen forward and his long hickory staff resting between his knees. +Newt's younger brother, "Little Luke," grown since he had left home from +a boy of thirteen to a gawky and angular young cub of sixteen, and his +sister, who had been twelve and was now fifteen, stared at him in shy +silence. His mother who was only a little more than forty had all the +seeming of sixty. She was bent and slovenly. But of his father he saw +nothing, though a man sat in the remaining chair, and when this +interloper leaned forward, holding down his beard with his forefinger as +he spat at the ashes, Newt recognized Clem Rawlins, a distant kinsman. +Clem's presence surprised him little, for it would have been quite +natural for Clem or any other man who found himself benighted to stop +and "stay all night." + +His mother came forward, and invited: + +"Take my cheer, Newt. I'll set on the bed." + +Newt dropped into the seat, and inquired: + +"Where's pappy?" + +"Daid," was his mother's laconic reply. + +"When did he die?" + +Clem Rawlins answered in a deep, drawling voice: + +"He failed tol'able fast-like after ye left, Newt. He had the weak +treemers, an' died erbout cawn-plantin' time a-follerin' of yore goin' +down below." + +The boy said nothing. He sat mutely scowling into the fire. + +A constrained silence fell on the gathering, which was at last broken by +the boy's mother in a tone of dubious embarrassment. + +"With yore old gran-pap on my hands, Newt, an' yore pap daid an' Little +Luk kind of puny-like, I couldn't hardly git along withouten some man on +the place an' so--" She paused again, then added with a note +half-apology, half-defiance: "An' so I married Clem. I was plumb driv +ter hit." + +She knew that the boy had never liked his kinsman, Clem Rawlins, but now +Newt sat with his brow drawn and his gaze fixed on the embers, making no +response. Clem waited stolidly, puffing at his pipe, though he, too, +would be glad when the moment of explanation was ended. At last, the boy +dismissed the topic with the curt comment: + +"I reckon thet's yore business." + +After a while, he rose and went to the corner of the room where once his +few belongings had been kept. He evidently failed to find that for which +he sought, for he came back to the fire and demanded: + +"Whar's my rifle-gun?" + +His mother was still sitting on the edge of the bed. She had filled her +clay pipe and lighted it with a coal from the fire. Once more her voice +carried the note of anxious embarrassment, and she tried to give it also +an ingratiating quality, as she replied. + +"Well, ye see, Newty, atter yore pappy died we had a heap of trouble. +'Peared like the good Lord hed done plumb forgot us in his +provi-_dence_. The hail kilt all the cawn, an' the hawgs died off like +es ef they was blighted, an' so--" She paused, and the boy finished for +her in a voice very metallic, though not reproachful. + +"So ye went an' sold my rifle-gun. Is thet what ye war a-tryin' ter +say?" + +"Thet's hit," she acknowledged. Then in exculpation she went on: "Ye +see, Newt, I wouldn't 'a' done hit, only I didn't reckon ye'd want hit +no more. We didn't hardly 'low ye'd ever come back hyar noways." + +Newt Spooner rose from his chair and stood facing them. His fists were +tight-clenched at his sides. The spurting blaze of the slowly dying fire +sent his shadow wavering out across the semicircle of light. + +"You-all didn't 'low I'd need my rifle-gun no more," he repeated slowly, +with forced restraint. "Ye didn't hardly reckon I'd ever come back +hyar-abouts. Ye 'lowed I wuz buried alive in thet damned penitentiary +whar ye let me go without a-holpin' me none. Ye 'lowed I'd jest stay +thar an' rot." He paused and his breath came heavily. Then his utterance +quickened. "Well, ye 'lowed plumb wrong. I'm hyar an' thar's a thing I'm +hyar ter do, an' hit's a thing thet calls fer a gun. Ye done married +this-hyar man. Thet's yore business an' his'n. 'Pears like ter me ye +mout 'a' done a sight better, but I hain't got no call ter say nothin' +erbout thet." + +With a vague idea of placating both sides of what might become a family +rupture, the woman suggested in a milder tone than usual: + +"I mout 'a' done a sight wusser, too, Newt." + +The boy sniffed. + +"I don't hardly see how," he retorted. "Now I've done been robbed of my +gun. What's become of my pappy's gun?" + +His mother hesitated, then confessed: + +"I done give it ter Clem." + +The son nodded his head. + +"Thet's what I 'lowed. Now thet gun b'longs ter me. I've done lawfully +heired hit from my pap." He turned suddenly to Clem Rawlins, and his +voice rang out in sharp and peremptory outburst. + +"Go git hit!" + +Rawlins rose in quick obedience, and went to his own corner whence he +fetched the repeating rifle that had been the elder Spooner's. + +Newt stood before the fireplace, testing and loading the magazine, while +his mother looked on in anxious scrutiny. + +Then the centenarian across the hearth roused up, lifting his ancient +and withered face, in which the jaw muscles worked loosely and flabbily. + +"Who air thet feller?" he demanded in a quavering, accusing voice, +gazing up without recognition at the tall, spare figure which towered +over him. + +"Thet's little Newt," shouted the mother, bending her lips close to his +ear. The old man sat foolishly blinking for a time as his wandering +thoughts came back to a focus. + +Finally, he brandished his long staff and stormed weakly. + +"Ye hadn't oughter suffered yeself ter be penitentiaried. In my day no +Spooner wouldn't 'a' done hit. Ye air the fust one thet's ever wore +stripes...." + +"I wouldn't of gone thar nuther, ef my own kin hed a-stood by me," +blazed the boy with an evil glitter in his eye. + +"Don't pay him no mind, Newt," hastily admonished his mother; "he hain't +noways responsible. He's plumb fitty." + +"Why the hell don't he die?" demanded the youth, gazing down +contemptuously on the withered and decaying figure. + +"I'm kinder tuckered out," he added a moment later. "I reckon I'll lay +down." + +Such was Newt Spooner's home-coming. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +On the morning after the convict's return, in the hour when the mists +still hung in wraith-like fogs over the slopes, Newt and the other men +of the household gathered around the kitchen table while his mother and +sister, maintaining their position of mere women, served them standing. +They ate in sordid silence, stooping low over their plates and +neglecting their forks. + +The food was perhaps less good than that which the penitentiary +furnished its inmates. The bodies of dead bees floated in the wild honey +and to a palate accustomed to more delicate provender the reeking grease +in which everything floated would have induced nausea, but it was the +food upon which the former convict had been reared, and he greedily +bolted it. As soon as he had finished his breakfast he rose, and, +picking up his rifle, sauntered toward the door. This he did with a +belligerent air, for he knew the simple laws of native life. The land +and cabin had belonged to his father, and the boy felt that he needed no +invitation to return and take up his residence there. None the less, if +he was to stay, he would be expected to assume his just share in the +burdens of daily work. For the present, however, he meant to take a +vacation; to tramp the hillsides and see how far he had lost his knack +with the rifle. So, he filled his pocket with cartridges, and strolled +out of the door, kicking from his way several trespassing chickens that +were exploring the interior of the room. As he passed the barn, Clem and +"Little Luke" were feeding the mule and the hogs. Newt paused for a +moment and watched them, making no offer to assist, and they for their +part made no request that he lend a hand. + +"Goin' huntin', Newt?" queried the step-father, pausing with a +shuck-basket of feed in his hands. + +"Mebby so," growled the home-comer. + +Clem regarded his uncommunicative law-kin with an expressionless stare +for a while, and then said slowly: + +"Hit hain't none of my concern, I reckon, but I seen yore pockets was +strutty, an' I 'lowed ye mout be goin' tol'able fur." + +"Mebby so," repeated Newt. + +The pockets to which Clem alluded bulged with ammunition and a flask. +The phrase he used was slang in Scotland in the days when Queen Mary +reigned. It is common parlance to-day where these beleaguered +Anglo-Saxons retain the idioms of their ancestors, and live the life of +another century in mountains which were old before the Andes, the Alps, +the Rockies or the Himalayas were thrown above the level of the sea. The +Elizabethan gallant who was "strutty" threw out a swelling chest, hence, +that which bulges is strutty. + +The household did not see Newt again until the sun was well into the +west, but at intervals they heard the sharp bark of his rifle growing +fainter as he penetrated farther into the hills. + +For Newt had taken himself away into the thickness of the timber and +laurel for target practice. He went about it as systematically as though +he were a battleship at maneuvers. As he swung his way noiselessly along +forest paths, he would stop suddenly and throw the piece to his +shoulder, sighting on some knot or leaf picked out at random. On these +occasions he wasted no powder and lead. He was simply testing his +quickness of eye and steadiness of hand, and he smiled with grim +pleasure at the result. But at last a target showed high up on a walnut +trunk. There the figure of a giant woodpecker hung, drumming loudly, and +inviting a trial shot, by the very conspicuousness of its red, black and +white plumage. Newt leveled the rifle and fired, and the big bird came +tumultuously floundering to the ground. + +The boy smiled unpleasantly: + +"I reckon," he mused, "hit hain't only woodpeckers I kin hit." + +As the day wore on, he practised more intricate feats. Gathering a +handful of hickory leaves, he fastened them about the gigantic girth of +a tulip poplar which towered nobly in a level place. Then, going back a +distance of fifty yards, he began running rapidly around the tree. At +every few yards of his course he would halt abruptly, wheel and fire at +one of the leaves. As he went up, panting, to inspect results, he smiled +again in grim satisfaction. + +Along the creek-bed roads and over the mountain-scaling trails that day, +a girl was taking a twenty mile walk from the clean dormitory of the +college to the vermin-infested murk of a cabin on Troublesome. She +carried a small bundle, but the long march was a thing that did not seem +to trouble her. + +Sometimes she came to places where the road ran down into the waters of +shallow fords, and then she stopped and took off her shoes and stockings +and waded to the other bank. + +On either side of her rose the rustling forests, tuneful with the song +of birds. The laurel blossoms waved pink centers and the rhododendron +nodded at her. + +Here and there a squirrel barked or a cock-quail sounded his "bob-white" +to his nesting mate. And as Minerva tramped on with that resilient, +tireless stride which was one of the few blessings of her hard heritage, +the cloud on her brow was dispelled and after a while her voice rose to +the crooning of an ancient "ballet," and she remembered only that she +was young and strong and that it was June. Perhaps she dreamed a little +of a make-believe world in which the men were not brutal and bestial, +but, like the Henry Falkins of her imagination, individuals who had +heard of chivalry and who even in this age preserved something of its +spirit and its spark. + +Yet every now and then the picture of the cabin rose before her +imagination, and the smile died from her eyes, and her lips became +straight-set and taut. She saw the old imbecile in the chimney corner +and the shrewish step-mother, and the badgering step-sister, and even +in the father who had brought her here, she knew that she had no +effective ally. Clem Rawlins had his work cut out for him in protecting +himself in these matters, and he sought the path of least resistance by +taking refuge in surly silence until he was goaded to the point where +his temper broke into violent outburst. + +At last, the walk ended, ended at the door-step of the cheerless cabin, +and there as Minerva crossed the stile stood her step-mother, on the +threshold with her arms akimbo and a clay pipe clamped between her +teeth. + +"M'nervy," she said in a rasping tone, in which dwelt no note of +welcome, "I've done put yore b'longin's under Sis's bed. Thar hain't no +more pegs ter hang things on an' Newty's done fared back from down +b'low. He's a-goin' ter lay down on ther bed you've been usin'." + +The girl halted before the door. + +"Who's Newty?" she asked. The boy's name had not been often mentioned +since she had come over here, and she had forgotten the ragged lad she +had known years before, when instead of being a murderer he was only a +small shaver with sullen eyes and a tongue which he did not often use. + +"Newty's my oldest boy," enlightened the elder woman briefly. "He's been +a sojournin' in Frankfort." Then in a tone of absolute commonplace she +added: "He's been in ther penitenshery." + +Minerva Rawlins stood silent, but her cheeks blazed wrathfully. So, +beside the horrors of uncongeniality under this roof, she was now to be +turned out of her own bed to make way for an arrival from the state +prison. + +Long ago she had learned to set a seal upon her lips and to endure in +silence what things must be borne, but into her eyes flashed an +insurgent gleam, and the hag-like woman in the doorway caught it and +scowled. + +"I reckon Newty's got a license ter dwell in this-hyar house," she +belligerently asserted. "He was born hyar, an' he didn't come in hyar +taggin' along with no widderer. Newty hain't no step-child." + +The speaker turned and disappeared into the general murk of the +interior, and the girl followed her without comment, but with a suddenly +born hatred for the man who had come from a cell back to the family +which she must call her own. + + * * * * * + +When Newt Spooner crossed the stile that afternoon, breathing deeply the +healing of the mountain air, he paused and scowled. Coming across the +yard from the "Spring-branch" with a bucket of water was the slender +figure of a girl. She was not his sister, but another girl whom he did +not recognize. She seemed to be about eighteen, and she was pretty, with +the transient bloom of mountain young womanhood, often as vivid and as +short-lived as that of the morning glory. But the thing which most +perplexed Newt, as he stood resentfully wondering how many other +invaders he was to encounter at the cabin, was the fact that her calico +dress was neater and her whole appearance more suggestive of civilized +self-respect than that of the other women of the household. + +[Illustration: Coming across the yard from the "Spring-branch" was the +slender figure of a girl] + +She was not barefooted, but wore shoes and stockings, and instead of +being lost in loose sack or slip-shod mother-hubbard, her slight waist +was trimly belted. + +While Newt stared at her, she, too, looked up and saw him. For a moment +she seemed startled at the black-visaged apparition, but after a moment +she coolly returned his glance, and disappeared into the house. + +When the boy later on went to the door, the westering sun sent a long +golden shaft into the primitive interior, down which the dust motes +danced, although the corners remained somberly obscure. In the room were +only the "women-folks"; his mother sitting huddled over her pipe; his +sister lying idly stretched on one of the beds with an ill-natured frown +in her eyes, and the strange girl. The strange girl sat, not near the +cold hearth, where now there was no fire, but in the sun, and the sun +fell upon and sparkled in her brown hair and awakened dull glints like +the luster of polished mahogany. She was holding her lips rather tightly +drawn, as in self-repression, and there was a mistiness about her eyes +that hinted at unshed tears. + +"I reckon," Newt's mother was saying in a spitefully hard voice, as the +boy's figure darkened the door, "ye thinks sence ye went off ter school +and got ter consartin' with them fotched-on teachers, thet ye're +better'n what we be." + +The girl made no reply, but she bent over the sewing in her lap, and her +fingers trembled. Mrs. Rawlins looked up and, with a jerk of her head, +announced for the benefit of her son: + +"This here air Clem's gal, Minervy. I married a widderer." The last +sentence was snapped out in a tone of deep complaining, from which one +might infer that in the train of marrying a widower followed many +melancholy consequences. + +At that the girl raised her face and into it swept a sudden flush of +anger. She looked challengingly at Newt and her eyes told him that, if +she was silent under the shrewish heckling of the woman, she was quite +ready to give him battle. But the boy had no intention of insulting her. +He did not know that already she was finding herself in that most +pathetic of all positions, the status of being just enough educated to +be unplaced at home, and too little educated to be placed elsewhere. She +had been thrown, by her father's second marriage, under the persecutions +of a shrew, a jealous step-sister, and a century-old imbecile. She +looked at Newt and reflected that his arrival added a murderer to the +group. "Clem's gal" was longing for that different and more wholesome +life over there at the college. But Newt had seen the look in her eyes +and recognized that she like himself was here among people who offered +no friendship. It was a rude bond of sympathy, and though she was +"Clem's gal," and, in consequence, of the enemy, he rose to her defense. + +"I reckon," he remarked sullenly, "she hain't no more tee-totally +tickled about yore a-marryin' of a widderer then what you be." + +The girl's eyes were lifted with an amazed expression from the calico +dress upon which she was working, and her face swiftly softened. But +Newt, a stranger to tender emotions, and bent on presenting to every man +and woman a face of defiance, gave no further sign of sympathy. + +He went to the bed which had been assigned to him, and threw himself on +his back, from which position he lay scowling up at the smoked rafters +and resting. + +Presently, his mother began again her querulous bickering. The +conversation was one-sided, and the boy, lying silent in his dark +corner, noted that Minerva merely bent her head as one may bend it +against the buffeting of gusty wind or rain. But he was himself less +long suffering, and so he raised his voice with the dictatorial +authority of a man rebuking a quarreling harem. + +"Mammy," he ordered curtly, "I'm plumb sick an' tired o' heerin' all +this-hyar blamed fursin', an' I wants ye ter shet up. If Clem's gal is a +willin' ter endure all thet jawin', I hain't." + +For an hour there was no sound in the cabin except the low, monotonous +voice of Newt's sister, crooning an ancient "ballet" that once was sung +in Scotland before the Pilgrims landed in the western world. + +About sunset that afternoon, Newt came upon the Rawlins girl milking +near the barn. When she raised her head from the flank of the cow and +saw him standing a short distance away, a sudden stream of color came +flooding to her cheeks and temples. He had not yet heard her speak a +word, but now after stammering a moment she said: + +"Hit was mighty good of ye, Newt, ter take up fer me. I'm much obliged." + +The acknowledgment was somewhat difficult to make. This black sheep of +her acquired family stood for all the things that the knightly Henry +Falkins had deplored in speaking of the lawless spirit of the mountains. +He was the sullen impersonation of the murder-spirit which shoots from +ambush. He had come from prison and it was Mercy, not Justice, that had +opened the iron gates to set him free. She did not know that the +testimony of Falkins had put him there, or that Newt's set purpose was +revenge, but she had shaped her heart to despise him, and he had in a +rough way stood forth her champion. Perhaps, after all, he too had been +a victim of conditions bigger and blacker than his own nature. + +Newt's scowl darkened. He was not accustomed to gratitude and in it +found embarrassment. + +"Huh!" he growled. "Hit warn't nothin'. I jest natcherly hates ter heer +so much damn' naggin'. Why don't ye jaw back at 'em? Air ye sceered?" + +The girl shook her head. "I ain't here much," she said, "an' I reckon +thar's enough squabblin' in this house without me joinin' in." + +"Well, thet's yore business," commented the ex-convict, "but if I was +you I'd stand up to 'em." He turned on his heel and left her. + + * * * * * + +To the house of McAllister Falkins "furriners" from the outside world +came as to an oasis in a desert, or perhaps, more properly speaking, as +to the tent of a great sheik set in the oasis, for the father of young +Henry Falkins was "the grand old man of the mountains." + +His forefathers had come from Virginia with the ideas of the old +chivalric regime. It was the tradition that when the first Falkins set +his face to the unbroken west, he had brought with his pioneer outfit a +retinue of negroes, a string of race-horses and a coop of fighting +cocks. The game birds and the gamer horses had not been game enough to +survive the hardships of the wilderness road, but the main stem of the +Falkins stock had retained its stamina and refused through a century to +degenerate. Collateral branches had one by one lapsed into the +semi-barbarism of a cruelly isolated life. Nephews and cousins bearing +the same name had succumbed to intermarriage and degeneracy, yet the +main stem had grown straight. Old McAllister Falkins was a college man +and a lawyer who did not practise. Though he was the foremost bearer of +the name which stood linked with that of Spooner as giving title to a +feud that had bathed the country in bloodshed for generations, neither +he nor his direct ancestors nor his direct descendant had ever been +drawn into its vortex. In some miraculous fashion he had been able to +stand aside, admired by his tempestuous kinsmen; respected even by the +equally vindictive Spooners. To have raised a hand against "Old Mack" +Falkins would have been to defy both clans. To have raised a hand +against his son would not have occurred to any Spooner other than young +Newt, mad with rage and private hatred. Old McAllister Falkins had +represented his district in Congress, by a vote of both factions, and +his retirement had been voluntary. It was his hope that his son, too, +might become the shepherd of these wild, goat-like sheep, and wield an +influence for peace. Now, both father and son were deeply disquieted at +the menace of a fresh up-flaring. The death of Falerin would fire the +Falkins clansmen, and if that dreaded intriguer, Black Pete, showed his +face in the hills it was difficult to see how calamitous days could be +averted. As yet the Deacon had not appeared save in Winchester, but on +Friday the Clark County court was to hear a motion for bail, made by the +two defendants, and, if it were granted, Saturday would see them back in +Jackson--and then the deluge! Saturday is a day for gathering at the +county seat and for drinking white liquor. The Falkinses would without +doubt be there, too, in force, ready to recognize and resent insult, and +the town would be much like a powder-magazine used as a smoking-room. +McAllister Falkins had advised such of the Falkins leaders as he could +reach to keep the clan out of Jackson, or, if that were impossible, to +hold the dogs of passion and carousal in leash. He meant to be there in +person to aid in the work of pacification. If only Red Newton and the +Deacon did not reappear, like Mohammedan prophets among wild tribesmen, +the dangerous day might yet dawn and spend itself without bloodshed. + +While the two enlightened men of the name were sitting one afternoon on +the porch of their house, discussing these matters, they saw a horseman +riding down the road which looped over the mountain. The traveler sat +his saddle with straight shoulders and his height approached the +gigantic. Before he had reached the palings of the yard fence, the angle +of his black hat and the tilt of his chin proclaimed him the Deacon. + +Old McAllister Falkins rose with a suppressed exclamation of dismay, and +Henry bit off an oath. + +Black Pete Spooner rode along at an easy amble, and outside the fence he +drew rein and sang out in a grave and utterly unembarrassed voice: + +"Gentlemen, may I alight and have speech with you?" + +The two Falkinses rose and walked down to meet the unexpected visitor, +uncertain what attitude to take in the face of such stupendous +effrontery. The dark giant offered his hand, and said: + +"I reckon you gentlemen are a little surprised to see me, and I guess +when you know why I came you'll be still more surprised." + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Gravely restraining their protests until the visitor should have spoken, +yet heavy-hearted with premonition, the elder and younger Falkins led +the way up the flagstone path to the porch. Had the head of the house of +Montagu strolled casually in, his hands still red with murder, for an +afternoon call at the strong-hold of the Capulets, his advent could +hardly have been more unexpected or unwelcome. The Honorable McAllister +Falkins and his son were mountaineers, and to the mountaineer the +voluntary arrival of a guest under the roof-tree is a mandate to +consideration so long as he remains there. + +The Deacon disposed himself in a heavy split-bottomed rocker, and for a +time a survey of the landscape seemed to absorb him. + +The house sat in its yard overlooking the twisting road and the steep +banks of the middle fork of Kentucky River. For that unlettered land it +was a mansion, with its two-story height and painted weather-boarding. +Its glazed, green-shuttered windows gave it a certain dignity. Instead +of puncheon floors, there were carpets and such furniture as one might +have seen in the outer world, mingled strangely with old-fashioned +reminders of pioneer life. At one end of the porch leaned a discarded +spinning wheel, and an arm's length away stood the phonograph with +which the two Falkins men had been soothing their anxieties with the +strains of "Il Trovatore." + +Off to the side of the house stretched an orchard in whose shadowed rim +of lingering locust bloom ranged a trim line of ancient "bee gums." It +was a simple and rambling farmhouse, but in a country of squalid +habitations it partook of a certain grandeur, and one must needs go far +to find a more ruggedly magnificent outlook, over park-like stretches of +patriarchal timber, palisading river-banks and towering mountains, than +that commanded from its verandah. + +For a few moments the Deacon sat in his rocker with as little seeming +realization of his unwelcomeness as though he were an old friend and +constant visitor. He sat upright, his hat lying on the floor at his side +and his hands resting on his large-boned knees. Both the men of the +Falkins house acknowledged anew how unusual and commanding was that +face, and how difficult it was to recognize upon it any hall-mark of +crime or villainy. The dark eyes were steadfastly gentle, and even under +the long drooping mustache the lips held a sort of dreamer's curve. +Finally, the visitor spoke. + +"The more I study about it, the more I'm afraid that Saturday can't +hardly pass by without trouble." + +McAllister Falkins rose from his chair and paced the porch. At last, he +paused before Black Pete Spooner, and began steadily: + +"I don't know why you have come to me." The old gentleman's voice was +self-contained, though his eyes bored accusingly into those of his +visitor. "I certainly shall express no criticism until you have said in +full whatever you came here to say. You must know that I have always +held aloof from feud-bickerings. You must know that I have always +counseled impartially and truly such men as have come to me from both +factions. But above all you must know that, if there is bloodshed in +Jackson on Saturday, no other thing will be so directly responsible for +it as your reappearance in the county. Your presence and Falerin's death +will be the twin causes. If you seek to avoid a holocaust, you are +pursuing a strange course." + +While Falkins talked, the Deacon listened attentively, acknowledging the +force of each remark with a grave nod of his head. At the end of the +speech he sat awhile with his brows judicially drawn, then answered: + +"There's a heap of truth and good sense in all that. I don't expect you +to take my word on any matter, but I'm here to propose doin' things, not +just sayin' things. I think there is one way to keep these boys from +mischief, if you two men and me can act together." He paused after that +a moment, then his voice came deeply resonant and full of warning. "And +I tell you that whether I'm at the North Pole or right here, unless we +three do get together, there's goin' to be hell in Jackson next +Saturday." + +He held them both with so steady and guileless a gaze that for a moment +both of the advocates of peace and law wondered if they were not +actually talking with a convert; wondered half-convinced, despite all +they knew of his history. Henry Falkins filled his pipe in silence, and +then, as the three settled themselves in their chairs, Black Pete began +again: + +"You men both know what a bad name I had when I left these mountains. I +was guilty of several crimes to start with, and my reputation did the +rest. Whatever meanness broke loose got laid to my door. I'm not +complainin'. Enough of them accusations were true to give fellers +license to suspect me in the balance. Then I went away." + +"With the understanding that you were to stay away," interrupted +McAllister Falkins. + +The Deacon nodded his head. + +"I'm comin' to that," he answered with tranquillity. "Anyhow, I went +away, and I've come back with just one hatred left." + +"What is that?" demanded Henry Falkins. This man with one hatred was +more to be feared than another with many. + +"Hatred of lawlessness and the sort of meanness that assassinates and +quarrels," was the quiet and surprising response. + +There was no offer to argue or deny, and after a moment he went on. + +"That sounds a little funny from my lips, I reckon, but all I ask is a +chance to prove it." + +"And simply going away wrought this conversion?" It was the elder man +who put the question, and his voice was frank in its scepticism. + +The Deacon shook his head. + +"No, not only that. It's a long story, and there's no need for tellin' +it all. But some of my time out West I was prospectin' in Old Mexico. I +was took down with fever, and they nursed me at a monastery. I caught on +to considerable Spanish, and--well, to cut it short--I got religion. But +as far as my past record goes, maybe just because I've got the name of +being so mean and troublesome, there are some men here-abouts that would +hearken to my counsel when they wouldn't listen to a better man." + +He paused and sat staring absently across the river, but his eyes were +taking in everything, and, as he turned his grave glance on his +auditors, he was keenly studying their faces. + +"What plan did you have to propose?" inquired Henry Falkins. + +"It's this way," came the prompt reply. "There are just two men in this +country that can talk to a Spooner an' a Falkins alike an' be hearkened +to by both. You are the two men. But there are a few Spooners that won't +even listen to you--and they are the meanest of the lot. It's the +meanest men that make the most trouble--and these are the men that will +listen to me. If we three are in town Saturday--" + +"If you are in town Saturday, mingling with the Spooners and inflaming +the Falkinses, the entire state militia couldn't maintain order," broke +out old McAllister with vehement heat. + +"Now, wait a minute!" And not for one minute, but ten, the returned +exile talked. As they listened, the father and son saw unfold a plan of +unexampled boldness and danger, particularly of danger to its proposer, +but as it outlined and developed itself they began to see also a dawn of +hope. The very effrontery of the thing might carry it through peril to +success. + +"I won't equivocate," responded the head of the Falkins family with +blunt directness. "If you are honest, you deserve to be treated frankly, +and, if you are not honest, there is no use in flattering you. It's not +my way to flatter men. You have always been a plausible talker, and you +have cloaked many criminal acts under that plausibility. On the other +hand, I can't see anything which you could gain in this matter by +deceit. On its face it looks fair enough--and if you come through alive, +it may bring peace to the county." + +Again the Spooner leader nodded gravely. + +"That's worth taking a chance for, ain't it?" he inquired. + +"Have you talked to any of your people?" demanded the old man as he +agitatedly paced his verandah. + +"No--I haven't seen a soul except those in my own house--and you. I +didn't want it known yet that I was in the county. But in the next two +nights I'm goin' to have speech with a half-dozen Spooners, an' they'll +be a half-dozen of the strongest men." + +McAllister Falkins considered for a time, and put a pertinent question. + +"Can you and your half-dozen hold the Spooner crowd in check? Saturday +will be the fourth of July. There will be heavy drinking in Jackson. Can +you answer for your rank and file?" + +For just an instant, the grave face of the dark-haired giant lost its +impassivity and something like a snort of contempt escaped his lips. + +"When you drive sheep," he demanded curtly, "do you consult the fool +beasts? Give me the sheep-men an' the sheep-dogs, an' I'll pretty nigh +tell you where the sheep are going to." + +The visitor rose and stood looking from the eyes of one to those of the +other. + +"We will both be in Jackson on Saturday," said McAllister Falkins. + +"Me, too," said the giant. "But I'll be there unbeknownst until the +minute comes for me to show myself." + +The Deacon had taken up his hat and reached the top step of the porch. +There he turned and, looking at the younger man, suggested: + +"I was goin' to advise that you didn't go, Henry. Your father can do +what's got to be done." + +"Why?" demanded the son sharply. "You arrange that my father shall take +his life into his hands in an effort to quiet a frenzied mob, and then +suggest that I let him go alone? Why?" + +The visitor seemed to sympathize with the sentiment. + +"That's right," he conceded. "After all, you've got to go. I don't think +Mr. Falkins is runnin' much risk. I don't think there's a man in these +parts that would harm him or let him be harmed. But it's a little +different with you. Little Newt Spooner has been pardoned out of the +penitentiary. I guess you knew that?" + +"So I heard. What has that to do with me?" + +"Well, he's a mean little devil, that boy is, an' he's holdin' it up +against you that your testimony busted his alibi." + +"Now, Spooner," Old Mack spoke quietly but with an ominous force, "you +have just said you could herd your sheep. If you can't handle the +youngest and blackest of them, we might as well abandon the bigger +experiment. If through this boy any harm comes to my son, I give you the +fairest warning that for once I shall take the law in my own hands--and +kill you." + +Henry Falkins laughed. + +"Father," he said, "there's no occasion to excite yourself. I'm not +troubled about Newt." + +But there was no spark of resentment in the Deacon's face. His eyes lost +none of their thoughtful gentleness. He held out his hand and spoke +deliberately: + +"If Newt hurts Henry, Mr. Falkins, you can hold me accountable. If +either of you men were hurt by one of my family, my life wouldn't be +worth two bits. I reckon you know that, and you know that I know it. +I'll see to little Newt, but it wouldn't hardly have been honest not to +tell Henry that the boy is nursin' a grudge." He turned and went down to +the stile and turned his mule back for the twenty miles that lay between +the house of McAllister Falkins and the section of Troublesome where the +Spooners held dominion. + +The Deacon had much to think of. He had come back from the West because +he was homesick; because as the warden had told Newt: "Every mountain +man that goes away drifts back to the mountains. God knows why they do +it, but they do." As long as Jake Falerin influenced his tribe from +Winchester Black Pete's return would be impossible. As long as the +Honorable Cale Floyd lived, his influence would reach back and bear +fruit in the mountains. For those reasons the Deacon had staged the +shooting in Winchester. Now, with the brain and counsel of Jake Falerin +stilled, he saw, in a great peace movement, a chance to beguile the +lesser leaders of his foes. Having satisfied his private designs, it was +nothing to him that others with equally strong grievances must pocket +them and sit silent under the truce he meant to make. For a time he +intended that this truce should be honestly kept, but later-- + +The Deacon was thinking several moves ahead. Yet he, who could dictate +to a fierce faction, stood in fear of little Newt. He had stopped him +once, and had promised the boy his future assistance. Newt wanted one of +the only two men in the country who must not be killed; whose +assassination would bring down the wrath of the state and flood the +county with soldiers, and make even a timid judiciary more afraid to +shield than to punish. Yet, how to stop this boy puzzled Black Pete to +such an extent that, as he rode, his brow was deeply corrugated. +Inwardly he cursed bitterly the ladies who had sympathized and the +Governor who had pardoned. It would have been much better to let the +troublesome prisoner rot in the penitentiary. + +The Deacon was not riding the county roads back to Troublesome. He was +taking a shorter and steeper trail, which led over the mountains. Travel +by this way was slow and arduous, but it was an isolated way and offered +a better route for a man who wished to ride unseen. + +At a point where the narrow trail doubled sharply around the shoulder of +a hill-top and where the soft earth deadened the hoofbeats of his horse, +he came unexpectedly on a walking figure. The mounted man had come +around the angle so unwarnedly that he seemed to rise from nowhere. The +walking figure had made an instinctive dive for the cover of the +roadside brush and tangle, and then, with a realization that it was too +late to escape detection, had halted and stood with his bare feet +planted in the soft mud of the road and his face slowly blackening. The +man on foot was Newt Spooner. He was once more dressed in mountain jeans +and butternut, and at his side his swinging right hand clutched a +repeating rifle. + +The Deacon drew his horse to a standstill with an amicable nod. + +"Howdy, Newt?" he greeted. The boy made no response, and shifted his +weight from foot to foot, while his eyes kindled with growing fury. +About a little roadside puddle fluttered a small flock of white and +lemon butterflies, disturbed by human invasion, and on a branch overhead +a squirrel ran out and stopped cautiously. + +"There's a squirrel, Newt," suggested the Deacon casually. "I reckon +you're squirrel-huntin', ain't you?" + +But the boy did not answer, and the Deacon knew why. He was thirteen +miles from home, and was stalking bigger game than squirrels. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +For a little space the two men looked at each other, the Deacon to +outward seeming with the casual interest of a chance meeting, and the +boy with a lowering truculence which augured trouble. + +The little mud-butterflies alighted again at the edge of the puddle, and +the squirrel whisked himself away. + +Back on the hillsides the white elder blossoms and pink-hearted laurel +cups nodded in the sleepy languor of a summer afternoon. In the overhead +blue a buzzard drifted on tilting wings. + +"You're right far off your beat, ain't you, son?" suggested Black Pete +at length. + +The sullen visage did not alter or brighten. + +"I hain't none too fur off," was the surly response. "I reckon I knows +what I'm a-doin'." + +The Deacon nodded. He had been thankful for the momentary silence which +had afforded him an interval for fast and very necessary thinking, and +he had made use of the opportunity. Straight as a crow flies, Newt +Spooner was making his way across crest and cove and gulch to the house +of the man he had "marked down." He had been home three weeks now, and +his lungs had drunk in the splendid mountain air and the elixir had +begun to heal the soreness of his chest. The pallor had left his face +and the native brown had come again to his skin. Newt Spooner was +tough-fibered, and his recovery, as any eye could see, would now be +speedy and complete. Also, he had practised with his rifle until he no +longer doubted his ability to handle it, and he was going on this +tuneful and gracious day at the end of June to carry out his unalterable +purpose. All this the Deacon read from his eyes and from the +circumstances of the meeting. The Deacon had gone to the Falkins house +unarmed, as his pose of peace-advocate required, and the boy standing in +the road before him had shifted the rifle with a rather marked emphasis +of gesture, so that now it was cradled on his elbow, and his right hand +was almost caressingly toying with the lock. This time he could command +the situation, and his face said that he meant to do it. + +"I reckon I know what you are aimin' to do, son," suggested the older +man as he swung one leg over the pommel, and sat sidewise, looking down. + +The boy's eyes flashed. + +"Hit hain't whut I'm _aimin'_ ter do," he declared. "Hit's whut I'm dead +shore _a-goin'_ ter do." + +"It comes to the same thing," agreed Pete imperturbably. "When a feller +like you an' me has got his mind made up to a thing, there ain't much +difference between aimin' an' doin'." + +Suddenly it occurred to the boy that the presence of the Deacon over +here was in itself worthy of explanation. + +"Whut air ye a-doin' hyar?" he snapped out. + +"I've just been over to Old Mack's house," replied the other frankly, +and he saw the boy's attitude stiffen from head to foot at the name. His +shoulders grew rigid and his eyes snapped. The rifle came half-way up, +and the rifle-bearer came a step forward. + +"Ye didn't carry no warnin' over thar, did ye?" The question was a +snarling whisper. + +Black Pete laughed. It was a thing so rare for him to laugh that the boy +was surprised, but at once he grew thoughtfully, even sadly grave again. + +"Son," he reproached, "when we told you down in Winchester what we aimed +to do, an' you turned us down, did I act like I was afraid of your +warnin' anybody? Moreover, didn't I promise you that I'd help you in +this business?" + +"I don't need no holpin'," declared the boy vehemently; "all I asts is +ter be let alone." + +"All right." The Deacon swung his dangling foot back to the stirrup. "I +was just goin' to name it to you that Henry Falkins ain't there. If +you're set on walkin' these three miles more for nothin' and then +walkin' 'em back again, go right ahead. There'll be half-a-dozen +Falkinses to see you and spread the news that you've been skulkin' round +the place. You'll give the whole business away without findin' your man. +If that's the way you want to play your game, go ahead." + +The boy gazed at his informant with disappointed eyes, and the Deacon +gazed back steadily. + +"Air ye plumb shore thet he hain't thar? He was thar day before +yestiddy. I knows thet fer shore." The boy spoke eagerly, but the more +wily schemer shook his head with positiveness. + +"He left this mornin' for Winchester. Seems he's got a girl in +Winchester. Ef you're inclined, you can get up behind me, an' I'll give +you a lift as far as I go." + +Newt believed this story, but it only fired his wrath, and his voice was +sour, as he put his next question: + +"Whut in hell wus you a-doin' over thar at McAllister Falkins' house?" + +It was naturally no part of the Deacon's program to tell that. His mind +was even now working rapidly in the effort to devise some permanent +means of curbing Newt's sinister activities. The present device of +falsification was merely a play for time and would serve a very +transitory purpose. + +"Oh," he said casually, "I don't mind tellin' you, but I wouldn't like +it to get round much, son. I was pullin' the wool over their eyes, an' +tryin' to help out those boys that shot Jake Falerin." + +But, if Black Pete Spooner could have looked far enough into the future, +he would have allowed his lawless cousin to go his way and satisfy his +vengeance, and would have taken his own chance on escape. + +The two rode on together, up steep ascents and down into fragrant gorges +where the waters whispered and the dampness of fern and moss lay +between dripping bowlders. They went through densely tangled trails +where the incense of the elder and catalpa was heavy to the nostrils, +and climbed over steep and precipitous heights, and to neither came a +throb of enthusiasm for the profligate beauty of the vistas. + + * * * * * + +"Clem's gal" had gone back to school some time ago, and it was only on +vacations and Saturdays that she returned to the cabin on Troublesome. + +But this afternoon, when Newt trudged in from his futile expedition +across the hills, he saw her crossing the yard in the gathering +twilight, and this time the boy did not growl in his throat like a +quarrelsome dog at the sight of her. He would not admit to himself that +he liked her, but he disliked her less than the others. She was too much +like a "furriner" to please him, and too quiet. There was no element in +his creed of intolerance, which could understand her gentleness. It was +sheer weakness, yet in that very weakness was an appeal to something in +himself, which he did not seek to analyze. At all events, "Clem's gal" +in a way interested him. She was young and lithe and strong; stronger +than the women whom she permitted to badger her with incessant +shrewishness. Also, she must be "smarter" than they, for she had been +away to school. This fondness for "larnin'" in itself indicated a +reprehensible spirit of acceptance for the "stuck-up" ideas of the outer +world. But for that she had some excuse. Her shiftless father, for whom +the boy entertained a deep contempt, had humored his daughter's +ambitions so that she might in the end secure her teacher's certificate +and contribute to his support. It was not an unselfish motive, but the +girl, eager for education, had not questioned motives. + +When Lucinda Merton had taken Newt in her buggy on the outskirts of +Winchester, a vague sense of sunshine had struck through the fog of his +friendlessness, and he had, for the first time, a conception of feminine +graciousness. In his brief talks with Minerva the same incomprehensible +thing occurred. Some unaccountable glow of sympathy awoke in him, and he +felt that he need not be on the defensive, alert for treachery and +enmity. + +When she went away, a sort of dull loneliness settled over him, and when +she came back, an unacknowledged pleasure stole into his heart. + +After the supper things were put away Newt went sulkily out of the cabin +and took himself to the quiet of the creek-bank, some distance away. +There was no moon, and in the starlight the mountains loomed very dark +and somber against the steely night sky. The trees were unstirring and +no wind moved even in their uppermost fronds. The boy sat hunched at the +top of the bank with his face in his two hands and his elbows on his +knees. At last, he reached into his pocket for his pipe and a few crumbs +of tobacco. In the spurt of the match, his features were for an instant +lighted, and Minerva, who also had slipped out of the crowded cabin for +the peace of the open air and the stars, saw in the momentary +illumination that it was a face very black and brooding and unhappy. +She, too, was unhappy. She was thinking how at this hour back there in +the school, the little family of teachers and such pupils as had not had +to come away would be sitting on the latticed porch, looking off over +the campus. Later on, in the comfortable library, the man who guided the +institution with a sure and sympathetic wisdom would be reading to them +under the shaded lamp, giving them wonderful glimpses of another world +through the windows of books. Reflecting on these things, the girl had +strayed farther away from the house than she had expected, and had come +upon Newt, brooding in solitary wretchedness over the day's failure. + +"Newt," she said shyly, when she came up to him, "ye looks like as ef +somethin' was a-botherin' ye. Is anything wrong?" + +The boy turned his head slowly, then shook it in silence. + +"Nothin' to tell a gal," he answered. + +In the darkness he was a black silhouette except that as he drew deep +puffs the pipe-bowl reddened and gave momentary outline to his tight +jaws and scowling mouth. + +They sat together without talk for a time. Once a small owl flapped to a +branch overhead and sent its mournful quaver out across the night. After +awhile the boy groped around for a stick, and, rising with a sudden +angry oath, hurled it viciously at the bird. + +"Damn thet owl," he complained. "Hit worrits me." + +"Newt--" the girl's voice was softly reproachful--"why did you drive it +away? It wasn't hurtin' anything." + +"Hit warn't a-fotchin' joy ter nobody," he sullenly rejoined. "I hain't +a-feelin' in no fit humor ter be pestered." + +Once more she inquired: + +"Is anything the matter?" + +He rose, and his voice broke out passionately. + +"Every man's hand is sot ergin me--but hit hain't no use. I 'lows ter +accomplish my task, ef I has ter go through hell on hossback ter do +hit!" + +She did not know, or vaguely suspect, that the thing he "'lowed" to do +was to kill the man whom she had set high on the pedestal of her +hero-worship; that his avowal was the avowal of the vendetta's lust for +blood. She saw only his isolation and need of friendliness. She did not +know that in letting himself out in even that small measure of +confidence, he was paying tribute to her increasing importance in his +life. She knew only that her sympathy was stirred and that an affection +such as she might have felt for some unlovely dog, starving for +affection, made her want to befriend him. + +"My hand ain't against you," she assured him, and, as the pipe glowed +with a long, half-fierce inhalation, she saw his eyes on her face with a +dumb, half-worshiping expression, for which his lips found no utterance. +But all the man said was: + +"I'm obleeged ter ye," and after that they sat for an hour in silences +rarely broken with a disconnected conversation. It was the conversation +of two very lonely people groping for companionship, but one was very +shy and the other was fettered with a taciturnity too strong to break, +so the groping brought little more than an incoherent sympathy. + +Neither of them heard the footfalls of a horse on the sandy road above +them, and neither of them knew that Black Pete Spooner went into the +cabin and spent a half-hour there. His coming was at once a surprise and +an event, for the people in that house had not heard that he had +reappeared in the hills, and they knew that where he went trouble went +with him. + +"Where's little Newt?" he inquired, peering about the dark corners of +the room. + +"He's done went out somewhars," replied his mother. "When did ye git +hyar, Pete? I heered tell that ye had gone off to some place the other +side of the world." + +"Didn't Newt tell you I was back?" + +"Newt don't never tell us nothin'," complained Clem. + +The Deacon nodded. Then he drew Clem aside. + +"Do you know what little Newt aims to do?" he accusingly demanded. + +Clem shook his head, and his bearded face mirrored anxiety. + +"I done told ye he don't never tell us nothin'." + +"Well, he's aimin' to kill Henry Falkins, an' if he does it, there's +goin' ter be merry hell to pay in these mountains. You've got to keep an +eye on him." + +"My God!" exclaimed the step-father in genuine fright and perplexity. +"What kin I do? He don't pay no mind to me--none whatsoever. Thet boy's +a rattle-snake in human form." + +The Deacon looked the other contemptuously up and down. + +"No, he ain't," was the prompt retort. "A rattle-snake gives warnin', +Newt don't. I'm havin' him watched pretty close. I don't want him hurt, +but he mustn't kill Henry. Don't tell him I've been here, but if he +starts over towards the Falkins place, send word to Jim Spooner's cabin. +Jim will go up to the ridge an' blow his fox horn, an' they'll pass it +along. Try to keep him home from Jackson Saturday, but if he does go, +send word to Jim when he's started, and we'll take care of him when he +gets there." The Deacon turned and disappeared through the door. He had +several other houses to visit, and he had selected the night because in +its darkness he could give his movements a highly beneficial secrecy. + +But, on the following day, Newt met an acquaintance on a hill-trail, who +stopped him for conversation and planted seeds of suspicion in his mind. +He spoke of a rumor traveling from cabin to cabin to the effect that the +Deacon had returned to the hills to act as a pacificator, instead of a +leader of war. + +Newt said nothing and contented himself with listening, but deep in his +suspicious nature uneasy doubts began to stir. A peace might be welcomed +by his people, but to him it threatened the paralyzing of his +trigger-finger. Possibly the wily Deacon had lied to him and turned him +back for some deeper reason than merely to save him the remainder of a +profitless journey. + +So Newton Spooner, as soon as he had the opportunity, began strolling +from cabin to cabin along the way toward the Falkins house once more. He +heard, but did not know the significance of the fox horns that carried +clearly from ridge to ridge, and when he had reached the wayside store +of Sam Hoover, standing on a sandy stretch in the crotch of two creeks, +he instituted active inquiries. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Sam Hoover he thought he could trust. Sam, at least, had come to him +when they were taking him to prison, and had denounced the lethargy with +which his kinsmen were standing idle while he went into bondage. + +The store was a frame shack, presenting at its front a barrel-littered +porch and a hitching-rack. Beyond one of the creek branches stood a +dilapidated "meeting house" in a flat, gravel-strewn area. Sam Hoover +himself sat at his door; a slouching giant in store clothes, coatless +and open of vest, collarless and soiled of linen. His movements were +ponderous, and his eyes were sunk in pouched sockets. + +As Newt slouched up to the porch in the forenoon, the waves of heat were +playing over the earth, and the mountains were torpid with mid-day +stillness. This was a point about half-way between the two clan centers, +and the man who trafficked here presented to each faction in turn the +guise of friendship and to each played the tale-bearer under his smug +semblance of neutrality. + +But the place was a point from which branched the road that Henry +Falkins must travel to Jackson, and the store-keeper would know when he +had last passed that way. + +Now, it happened that, though the Deacon had invented on the spur of the +moment his news of Henry Falkins' departure, he had come much nearer the +truth than he himself guessed. Almost a week intervened before Saturday +and it had occurred to the young man, although he would have laughed had +someone else made the suggestion, that the Fourth of July held some +element of danger for himself. That being the case, he was possessed of +a desire to see the girl in Winchester in the meantime. It might be a +last chance. He had no intent of confiding in her anything that might +alarm her, but he thought that with her words of love fresh in his +memory he could undertake Saturday's work armed and accoutered with a +higher confidence. So, almost on the heels of the Deacon, when he had +left the Falkins house, Henry had ridden, bound for Jackson and +Winchester. Had Newt Spooner gone home on foot and by the county road +instead of with the Deacon and by sequestered trails, the two men must +have met near Hoover's store--and Henry Falkins would not have gone on +to Winchester. + +Sam Hoover greeted the boy with a, "Howdy, Newt?" and the boy sat on the +floor of the porch with a silent nod, and leaned his shoulders against a +post. At last, he questioned casually: + +"Hev ye seed anything of Henry Falkins here-abouts of late?" + +"He rid by hyar this week," the store-keeper responded. "Hit war either +the day afore yistiddy or the day afore thet, I disremember which, but +he stopped to water his horse, and passed the time o' day with me. He +'lowed he war a-travelin' ter Winchester." + +"Air ye plumb shore he hain't rid back?" + +"He 'lowed he'd be back Satiddy--an' I hain't seen him pass by, so I +reckon he warn't a-lyin'." + +Newt sat watching a flock of geese that waddled down the gravel to the +creek, and Hoover forbore to question him. After a space the boy rose, +stretched his arms and legs, and succinctly announced, "Reckon I'll be +a-startin' home." He did not know that men apportioned to that task by +the Deacon watched and reported his going and coming, even to the words +of the brief conversation at the wayside store. Sam Hoover, however, +gave his information impartially, and the Deacon was duly informed. + + * * * * * + +Henry Falkins was riding along the gleaming white ribbon of turnpike +near Winchester. + +Over this land was brooding one of those days of rare charm that +sometimes come to the bluegrass about the first of July. While the +summer was yet young and while the gold-headed wheat was falling into +rich shocks behind the binder blade, there had drifted into the heat a +vagrant breath of Indian summer. The distances lay softened by a +mistiness that clung like a haze of dreams. Into the air stole an +insinuating freshness, which set the blood to a keener pulsing, and over +the breast of the undulating soil hung an impalpable, but unescapable, +mantle of romance. + +The slim girl who sat her dancing saddle-mare with the easy grace of a +daughter of generations of horsemen, felt it and glanced sidewise at the +somewhat grave-faced young man by her side. He, too, felt it and drank +in long drafts of the incensed air. He was as well mounted as herself, +but his horsemanship lacked her instinctive freedom of poise. Henry +Falkins, though much of his life had been spent in the saddle, had been +reared to the ways of a country where men must ride rough and tortuous +roads and rarely ride well. The horse of race-track and show-ring and +hunting field were as alien there as the other bluegrass luxuries of +wainscoted halls and silent servants and groaning tables and +silver-surmounted sideboards. + +Even now, athrill with the joy of the moment, Henry Falkins felt at the +back of his mind an oppressive sense of the humorless and brooding +hills, and the humorless and brooding men who peopled them. + +They were turning between stone gate-posts into a driveway that led +through shaded woodlands where thorough-bred dams grazed in sleek +aristocracy with leggy colts capering at their sides. Beyond was the +brick house, toned by its generations to an ancient richness, with its +harping pine and cedar trees about it, and at the left its garden, +giving a border of bright flower mosaic. + +They had not been talking much. They were both happy enough to be silent +together, but as they turned into the home place Lucinda raised +sparkling eyes. He was riding close, and, as his horse swerved suddenly +to the side of her own mount, she leaned impulsively toward him and let +her gauntleted hand drop for a moment to his bridle arm, as she +whispered happily: + +"My bluegrass is yours, and your mountains are mine--and all the life of +Kentucky is ours!" + +At the broad verandah where a negro appeared to take their horses, +Colonel Cameron looked up from his paper and smiled his welcome. The +entire house seemed to smile a welcome. Late roses still clung along the +walls where their earlier brethren were fallen to pods. The girl sat in +a deep porch-chair and the setting sun gilded the landscape and rested +on her delicate coloring and features as she smiled on the two men whom +she loved: the old man of the passing order of chivalry and elegance, +and the young man of slowly awakening hills. And when night came the man +and the girl sat alone in the shadow of an oak. Soon he must be back in +the troubled highlands, but to-night was his, with its stars overhead; +its sense of security and delight; its whispered talk; and, drifting +from the negro cabins, the mellow cadence of songs and the tinkle of +banjos. When the girl fell silent and he spoke only by the telegraphy of +his hand-clasp on her slender fingers, there came to his ears the words +of an old song, forgotten save by these children and grandchildren of +slaves: + + "Way down yander in de big bayou-- + Whar de Yankee gunboats lay, + Ole Massa's tuck his hat an' coat-- + An' I spec's he's runned away." + +Yet, Henry Falkins was conscious of missing something that should go +with the night, for there was no calling of whippoorwills from the +overhead thickets of timber and no dark shadow-walls of mountains +closing in about him. + + * * * * * + +Early on the morning of Saturday, the Fourth of July, Newt Spooner left +the door of the cabin on Troublesome, and went across to the stable, +carrying his rifle. Under his coat was strapped Clem's revolver, and +again his pockets were "strutty with ca'tridges." He vouchsafed no +explanation, and Clem, though heavy-hearted with anxiety, asked no +questions and attempted no dissuasion. He merely stood looking on +stupidly, as the boy led out and saddled the one nag in the stable, and +swung the beast's head toward Jackson, riding away in the morning mists. +Over these roads, climbing, dropping, crossing water-courses sometimes +by a dozen fords to the mile, he did not hurry. He would not reach +Jackson by the north road until about ten o'clock, and then he would +drift quietly and unostentatiously about for a while, watching the +gathering of the two clans. There might be general trouble or there +might not; but until noon quiet would prevail. The Deacon had certain +plans and would be in command. The boy was learning the lesson of craft. +He meant to see the Deacon and assure him that he had given up his plan +of private revenge. He would even volunteer for such service to the clan +as Black Pete should suggest. Having so disarmed suspicion, he could +have a free hand, and, when his chance came, could employ it. Once +avenged, he was ready to answer for his treachery. + +The usually deserted roads were no longer empty. From every trail men +were riding townward. The rumor had gone broadcast that to-day would be +eventful, and from both sides of the line the clans were gathering. Many +of them arrived early, and instinctively Spooners grouped themselves on +one side of the street and Falkinses on the other. Rifles were much in +evidence, but with this exception there was as yet no sign of trouble. + + * * * * * + +As Newt had ridden out of the stable-lot, Minerva had come to the door +of the cabin. On the Fourth of July there were no classes at the +college, and the girl was back. She saw her father gaze after the +departing horseman and then turn with a sagging jaw and an expression of +genuine alarm in his eyes. She heard him shout a summons to his younger +step-son, and a premonition of danger arose in her heart. + +She ran over to the stable, and caught Clem Rawlins by the arm. + +"What is it, pappy?" she demanded. + +He turned a frightened face toward her, and licked his bearded lips. For +a moment he was silent, then he blurted out with no preface or +preparation: + +"Newty's done sot out fer Jackson ter git Henry Falkins." + +With a gasp which she struggled vainly to suppress, the girl reeled back +and stood leaning for support against the rough timbers of the stable. +For a moment she could not understand, and when she found words she +asked in a dazed voice: + +"To get Henry Falkins--why?" + +Over the hills the mists were slowly lifting. The upper peaks still +trailed over their heights, veil-like streamers of gray mists which +blotted out all outlines; but below them pale and iridescent patches of +color glowed with indescribable delicacy and beauty. The miracle of +awakening morning in the mountains was fulfilling itself. There before +her the girl saw the crude barn and heard the grunting of razor-backs +and the voices of the geese as they waddled down toward the water. She +saw her father brushing his arm across his face, and shouting at +intervals for his younger step-son. Once more she repeated: + +"To get Henry Falkins--why?" + +"Henry's ther man thet penitensheried Newt," came the response. "Newt's +done swore the blood-oath. He's done tried oncet afore, but he was +hindered. Thar's a meetin' over at Jackson terday, an' men air lookin' +fer trouble. Newt aims ter git Henry terday." + +Suddenly the girl's stupor broke into a fury of inquisition. + +"Does ye aim ter stand there an' suffer a man ter be murdered without +liftin' a finger ter save him?" Her questioning voice rose shrilly and +lapsed into dialect. "Why did ye stand by an' let Newt go?" + +Clem Rawlins shook his head. + +"What war I a-goin' ter do?" he perplexedly demanded. "Does ye reckon +Newty war liable ter take counsel offen me." + +"Well, ye've got ter do suthin now, Clem Rawlins," she commanded, and +her voice was fiercely imperative. "Ther blood-curse hes laid on these +hyar hills full long, an' God Almighty will hold ye blameful ef ye don't +stop this killin'." + +The man stood there dazed and frightened, and dropped his eyes before +the flaming accusation of her steady gaze. + +His bare toes twisted themselves in the dust, and at last he spoke, +almost in a whine: + +"Ther Deacon hes done bid me ter fotch word ter Jim Spooner's cabin ef +Newt fared forth terday. They aims ter send ther signal ahead with fox +horns, an' ther Deacon 'lows ter look atter Newty when he gits ter town. +Thet's what I'm a-callin' sonny fer. I wants ter send him over ter Jim's +house." + +The girl laughed scornfully. This moment of need had transformed her +from Minerva of the schools to Minerva of the unrelenting hills. Her +mission was still the mission of the school, but her method was the +method of the hills. + +"An' ye aims ter trust ther life of ther only real man in these +mountings ter ther dawdling of sonny?" The question was contemptuous. +She, who brooked day-long heckling without retort, must now be answered +without evasion. "No--I'll go myself, an' I won't stop thar. I'll borry +a ridin'-critter from Jim Spooner, an' I'll take the short cut over ther +ridges an' ther roughs, an' I'll git ter town ahead of Newt. I aims ter +carry a warnin' inter Jackson." + +She wheeled and without sun-bonnet or hat plunged into the laurel +thickets of the hillside, and was climbing with a tireless stride up +slopes which would have winded a razor-back hog. + +Later on, she could think: now, she must act. The life of the man she +had idealized was the prize for which she was fighting. + +Suddenly the full significance of the boy's declaration that he would +accomplish his end if he had to "ride through hell on hossback" came to +her. + +She had started out by hating Newt. Of late, she had felt that deep +sympathy for him which is the borderland of affection. She had resolved +on reclaiming him. Now, again, she hated him. + +Fifteen minutes after she had started, she was riding away from the +stile of Jim Spooner's house on a borrowed mule. The short cut she +contemplated taking required a mule. There were fords where a horse, +with its less steady footing, would have probably hurled her to death. +There were washed out trails where the ride would be in the nature of +tightrope walking. But these things did not deter Minerva Rawlins. She +was a mountain woman with a mission to perform. + +As she rode away from the stile, she heard a deep mellow note, which was +not loud, but which she knew would carry for miles--the note of a fox +horn. It was once the signal of the moss-troopers. It had rung over the +heather and gorse in Scotland hundreds of years ago. To-day it would +ring as truly over the Cumberland ridges where these belated Scotch +high-landers lived the old life in the old, unalleviated way. + +She leaned forward in her saddle, lashing her mule with a hickory +branch, and listened, and at last her lips curved in a momentary smile +of satisfaction. Far ahead of her, more faintly and more distantly, she +heard it again. The message was being relayed. + +But in that long, hard ride, with the forests tuneful in their color and +their unspeakable beauty, yet eloquent in their silences, she had ample +opportunity for reflection, and as she reflected, the bitterness oozed +out of her heart, and in its place came compassion. + +Now, she realized that she was not fighting only to save the life of the +man whom she had idealized, who to her was the one knightly person she +had ever known; but, also, to save from himself the boy with the black +obsession. + +At first, Newt had seemed only a murder-driven miscreant whose aims she +must thwart. Now, she saw him from a different angle. He was the victim +of the false order, which those men and women at the school sought to +amend. She, also, was seeking to amend it, but while she must give +battle to Newt Spooner and defeat his purpose, she could do so with the +realization that his guilt was only the guilt of a sort of lunacy, for +which he was scarcely responsible. + +His was one idea. He was a prison-reformed man, which is often to say an +embittered man. + +Of course, she knew that, when he learned what she had done, Newt would +believe that the one friend he had ever known had become his +irretrievable enemy. Of course, in honesty, if he did not learn it from +another source, she must herself tell him what part she had played in +this day's happenings. That she would do, and in the end perhaps he +would thank her. + +At last, on a spent and limping mule, she rode into Jackson. Finally, +she stood face to face with the venerable old man, to whom she gave her +message. Henry Falkins had not yet reached the town, but she conveyed +her warning to his father, and, when she did so, she learned that the +pre-arranged code of fox-horn signals had already brought the tidings, +so she slipped away and hid herself indoors at the house of a kinsman. + + * * * * * + +It happened that just as Newt rode his horse around the bend of the +north road and turned into Main Street, his eyes narrowed and his jaws +clamped, and the lines that ran from his nose down around the corners of +his mouth grew deeper and harder. He had heard the whistle of a train, +and he knew that it was a signal announcing the approach of his victim. + +In point of fact, it heralded not only Henry Falkins, but Red Newton, +and Buddy Spooner, his accomplice, freshly released on bond from the +Winchester jail, and returning, perhaps, to fire the waiting volcano. + +Henry Falkins had seen the two defendants sitting quietly and peaceably +in the smoking-car, and they had nodded affably to him. The young man +stood now in the car vestibule, as the train roared over the trestle +and slowed down at the station. On the platform were two groups of men. +They stood with a space between them and eagerly watched the incoming +cars. As Henry Falkins swung himself down from the step, he noted, +despite the general and studied calmness of deportment, several details +which were to his eye significant. He saw in both groups the faces of +men from far away in the recessed fastnesses of the hills, who came to +town rarely, save in answer to the call of the clan. These men were even +more uncouth of apparel and wilder of visage than their brethren. Their +dialect, too, was quaint, and some of them carried muzzle-loading +squirrel-guns of a pattern long obsolete, save in the antiquated life of +"over yon." + +McAllister Falkins met his son on the platform, and together they +crossed the toll-bridge into the meandering streets of the town proper, +where the shacks and houses sprawled like pieces thrown haphazard from a +dice-box on a dozen levels and slants. At length, Old Mack voiced his +apprehension: + +"It looks ugly, my boy," he said. "Jake Falerin's son, young Jake, has +assumed the leadership, and his one song is punishment of his father's +murder. He's drinking and excited, and he has a strong and +nasty-tempered force behind him. I've been with him, urging peace, and +several of his older advisers seem inclined to listen. I've gotten their +promise that they will make every mortal effort to delay any outbreak +until I've made my speech at noon. That's as far as I can move them." + +"And the other fellows--the Spooners?" inquired the son anxiously. +"What's their mood? If they commence celebrating the return of these +assassins, the situation will become hopeless." + +McAllister nodded. + +"So far they seem quiet enough, but they are all armed to the teeth and +keyed to concert pitch. Black Pete has kept religiously out of sight, +and seems to be acting in good faith. He slipped secretly into town +before sunrise, and has been under cover ever since in the court-house. +He has talked to several of his leaders in my presence. They, too, have +promised to hold their hands until I have spoken. My God, Henry, the +single chance seems to hang on the possibility of my being able to sweep +them off their feet--and if I fail--!" He broke off suddenly, and his +eyes wore the torture of weariness. + +They walked between swelling crowds, always separated by the width of +the street into opposing forces, but from both groups the glances that +fell upon father and son were glances of confidence and admiration. If +there was any man living whose voice could penetrate, with a message of +harmony, their armored hatreds, that man was McAllister Falkins. But he +had won and held his influence by his total aloofness of attitude. Now, +he was to take a central and pivotal position, and, if he failed, his +prestige would go down to wreck with his effort, and the work of a +lifetime would collapse like a pin-pricked balloon. + +No women or children were to be seen on the streets. Doors were closed, +and the more public hitching-racks were empty. Horses and mules had been +relegated to back streets and sheltered places. But as yet from the +gathering storm-cloud had broken no rumble of thunder and no flash of +lightning. There was only a constant tightening of nerves to the point +where they must be released or snap. + +To the eyes of Henry Falkins, the answer was hideously clear. They meant +to hear his father patiently as a matter of respect; but they had no +intention of being influenced by what he said. When he reached his +conclusion, the gathered tempest would break; and, when it had subsided, +another bloody chapter would have been added to the history of these +mud-rutted and twisting streets. It could not be undone. + +Meanwhile, even the complimentary restraint could not last, if a single +fanatic broke from the order of the ranks. + +The hours crawled with heavy suspense toward noon. Crowds that had been +attenuated strings along the sidewalks began drawing in and +concentrating at the court-house square. On the right, the Spooners +gathered around the figures of the two returned defendants, while on the +left the Falkinses drew about a raw-boned young giant whose baleful eyes +never left the faces of Red Newton and Buddy Spooner. This was "Young +Jake," itching to be about his work of reprisal and impatient of delay. +Stragglers drifted in until only the brick path and a few feet of +hard-tramped earth at its margin separated the two armies. Newt Spooner +was going up and down the street sorely perplexed, because he had been +unable to locate the Deacon and make the pretended peace-pact, which was +a prerequisite to his own arrangements. Wherever he went, a half-dozen +men went also. They were not always the same men, but they were always +the same in number, and he knew that he was being watched by an escort +of the Deacon's selection, and that until he satisfied that leader, he +could not shake them off. + +Then he saw McAllister and Henry Falkins, coming toward the court-house. +The sun was directly overhead now, and the shadows were short. Newt +tightened his grip on his rifle, and, as he did so, the unconfessed +body-guard closed around him and worried him with casual conversation. +The boy ground his teeth and waited. + +Then, as McAllister and Henry Falkins turned into the court-house yard, +something happened. + +Young Jake Falerin had made his way through his own crowd to the foot of +the court-house steps, as befitted the claimant to feud leadership. From +that place of vantage he could hear what was said and give his orders +when the speech ended. Red Newton and Buddy Spooner had acted on a +similar impulse from their side of the path, and as the recently +orphaned youth raised his eyes, to find them gazing into those of his +principal enemies, his promise to wait became a forgotten thing. + +With an oath, his hand swept under his coat, and came out armed. Red +Newton had been equally swift, and for an instant the two men stood +facing each other with leveled pistols. + +At that cue, the clicking of scores of rifle-hammers ran along the +waiting lines. Yet, for a second or two, there followed no other sound. +The knowledge that to draw a trigger indubitably meant to fall oneself +in the same breath, was holding them in check for an undecided breathing +space. If a gun cracked now, it meant wholesale carnage along those +ranks. Both lines knew it--and hesitated. + +Then, while they stood tensed of muscle and blazing of eye, old +McAllister Falkins stepped between the ringleaders, and held up his +arms. At his side stood his son Henry, and on the quiet of indrawn and +tight-held breaths the elder's words broke with almost as staccato a +sharpness as that which would have come from the lips of the guns. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +For years no man had heard McAllister Falkins speak except in the smooth +and cultivated parlance of the lowlands. In Congress he had been +accounted silver-tongued, yet now, by some stress of excitement, when +the white-haired patriarch lifted up his voice, words came tumbling from +his lips, not in measured phrases but in the crude cascading force of +vernacular. + +Henry Falkins had felt instinctively that the greater danger for his +father lay toward the guns of the Spooners, since it was hardly likely, +even in so impassioned a crisis, that a Falkins rifle would turn on a +Falkins breast. Acting in response to that belief, he had stepped +between the old man and Red Newton, and the two men stood back to back, +while the tableau held, each of them unarmed. + +And as old McAllister raised his clenched hands and roared out in a +voice that carried, "Stop hit, ye damn' fools!" he found his snapping +eyes gazing into a pair that looked down into his own, though he stood +an even six feet in his socks. The eyes of the protagonist were not +snapping like his own, but smoldering dangerously with hatred and +resolve. The entire face was black and rigid, from its unkempt locks of +jet to its high outstanding cheekbones and clamped under jaw. The right +hand that had raised the pistol still held it, but instead of pressing +it to the breast of his enemy, young Jake now found it trained on the +venerated man whom he must not injure, and with slow unwillingness the +muzzle drooped. + +"What deviltry air this?" thundered McAllister Falkins, addressing +himself to the young ringleader. "What hes happened to the breed of +Falkinses thet a man what gave his hand in contract breaks his bond? Air +the Falkinses turned liars and pledge-busters?" + +"Why hain't ye a-talkin' ter them other fellers, too?" demanded young +Jake with that nasal shrillness which excitement brings to the mountain +tongue. "Does ye see any more guns over hyar then amongst them +murderers?" + +At the epithet, a murmur ran ominously along the opposite side of the +path, but there were men there to quiet it at the raising of Henry +Falkins' hand; men representing the Deacon, whose influence, though +unseen, was powerful enough to hold his people leashed. + +"Never mind why I don't talk to them." The resonant voice of Old Mack +rang like a bell, and, now that the first death-freighted instant had +passed, he spoke again without dialect. "I'm talking to you now. You-all +gave me your pledge that you would hear me out without a breach of +peace. You tried to break that pledge. You drew first. I saw you. I am +talking to you now, and I speak as the oldest man in the county who +bears the name of Falkins. I speak as the man who has the right, if he +chooses, to be the head of the Falkins family, and I am talking to you +who are a young cub of a boy and whose name is not even Falkins--and by +God, sir, I mean to be listened to!" + +Sentence mounted on sentence with growing stress of passionate force, +and then came a new silence as the old man stood there, weaponless and +rigid, glaring into the face of the younger, who, with pistol +half-raised, burned slowly from the nape of his sinewy neck to the top +of his forehead in an angry wave of color. But suddenly at his back +young Jake felt, rather than heard, a low murmur, and he knew, as it +grew and traveled among his clansmen, that at a word from this +gray-beard, his people would repudiate the young pretender and follow +the aged and rightful leader into war, or--which was a more stressful +test--into peace. + +While this question of family supremacy was argued on the Falkins' side +of the path, the Spooners stood silent, intruding no evidence of +interest. They simply waited. + +"You have assumed to be the leader of the Falkinses," went on the old +man. "By what authority? Tell me that!" + +"My pap war the head of our kith an' kin," retorted Jake hotly; "an' I'm +his son. He's done been murdered, an' I hain't the sort of a Falkins +that sets still an' lets them things go on." + +And so capricious is the spirit of a mob that at that statement, as +though they had been momentarily misled, a new murmur of concurrence in +the sentiment rose from the Falkins side and one or two voices--well in +the protected rear--shouted, "No, and we hain't nuther!" + +"Silence!" roared old McAllister again. "Let's talk about one thing at a +time. You gave me your hand to wait until I had had my say, and you +tried to break your bond. When I have had my say, you men can talk about +what you are going to do. If you make a move before I've uttered my +final word--either you men over there--" with a wave of the hand to the +right, "or you over there--" with a wave to the left--"you stamp both +crowds with the brand of perjury. And, when I talk, the first thing I +shall demand is that the Falkinses either change their names or get a +grown man with brains in his head to lead them." + +The speaker paused, and the crowd waited, tense and breathless, but now +the rifles again hung at their bearers' sides, or rested with grounded +stocks. Then young Jake inquired in a sneering drawl: + +"Wall, why don't ye begin yore speech?" + +"I'm going to, but first I'm going to ask your uncle, Job Falerin, and +Jim Falerin and Mark McDonald to come out here." + +Slowly three men worked their way to the front of the crowd. + +"Men," instructed McAllister Falkins, with the decisiveness of a general +officer who has no doubt of instant obedience for his commands, "take +that boy's gun away from him until I'm through." For a moment they +hesitated, and the boy himself tightened his grip on his weapon until +his knuckles showed in white spots. + +McAllister Falkins caught the wrist and held it; without a word the +three elder kinsmen surrounded and disarmed the young insurgent. +Instantly, McAllister Falkins wheeled to face the Spooners. + +"Jim Spooner, Joe Belmear, Jerry Sparvin!" He ripped out the names +rapidly and crisply. "Do you do likewise with Red Newton and Buddy +Spooner." + +But the two defendants had been reading the signs, and, as their kinsmen +came forward, they voluntarily surrendered their weapons. + +"Now," went on the old man, "I'm going to ask you boys on both sides of +the road to show me one more evidence of good faith. Let all the men in +the front of this crowd carry back their guns and stack them at the +rear. Then let them come forward again. Don't let us have any rifles or +pistols at the front." + +Rather wondering at their ready compliance, yet under the force of +something like a spell and also with a sense of immense relief, the +crowd began shifting and jostling, and when it again fell quiet not a +barrel or stock was visible. + +Slowly old McAllister ascended the court-house steps and stood looking +down. + +"Now," he announced quietly, "I want those same three Falkins men and +those same three Spooners, still armed, to come up here and stand on +either side of me. I wish to have the honor of their services as my +escort and body guard." + +As he spoke the last words the old orator smiled, and through the crowd, +humorless and grim as it was, ran a murmur of responsive laughter at the +ludicrous jest of this old lion asking personal protection. Yet he had +drawn impartially from both elements, and the men named stepped to their +places with alacrity. + +Then the old man began to speak. + +The mountaineer has few pleasures, and except for feudal warfare, few +excitements. He loves the fulminations of public speaking and the +stirring influences of the forensic. McAllister Falkins they believed to +be the greatest of all orators, and no interrupting sound broke the +thread of his speech. He praised the good in both factions and denounced +their mutual lawlessness. He pleaded with the Falkinses, as with members +of his own family, to await patiently the process of law in the trials +of Red Newton and Buddy Spooner. If they were guilty, they should be +hanged. If they had acted in self-defense, they had the right to Spooner +forgiveness as well as vindication at the hands of the jury. He hazarded +no opinion as to the facts. He only begged all men to wait and see, and +while they waited that their leaders should shake hands and maintain as +a sacred thing the truce so plighted. But it was the fashion of his +saying these things which in the end availed, for he knew his hearers +and played on their emotions as a pianist plays on the keys of a +familiar instrument. + +"Why," he cried at last, "in the good days when we all came, Spooners +and Falkinses alike, out of the mother state, facing our common enemies +in the wilderness, we came as comrades and as friends. When we +quarreled, we settled it in the honest way of men with fist and skull. +Then we shot from cover only upon wild beast and Indian, never upon our +neighbor. We lived the lives of men, and died God-fearing deaths." + +He paused. He had been heard with a rapt attention, but he knew that the +difficult part of his speech lay yet ahead, and, as he wiped his +forehead with his handkerchief, the voice of young Jake Falerin flung +challengingly up at him the first interruption. + +"We can't be friends with Black Pete Spooner a-stirrin' up strife in +these mountings." And after that came cries of "Where is Black Pete?" +and "Tell us about the Deacon!" + +"Black Pete Spooner is in the mountains, and he is here in town," +replied the orator quietly, though he found it difficult to make so +portentous an announcement calmly. "But he declares he is here in the +interests of peace, and is willing to let you, not only Spooners, but +Spooners and Falkinses alike, judge whether or not he can stay. If you +decide against him he is ready to go. He asks only that you hear him +out, and I ask only that every man of you give me his hand on it, that +until he has spoken no one will attack him. I have never had dealings +with the Deacon. I have never trusted him, but now I ask you as a +personal favor to hear him; holding your hands and paroling him in the +interval to my care and in my custody." + +There was no immediate response. A moody silence settled over the +Falkins men, as though the favorite patriarch had asked too much, but +McAllister Falkins turned questioningly to Job and Jim Falerin and Mark +McDonald, standing at his side. These three ambassadors looked out over +the sea of upturned faces with the scrutiny of weather-prophets studying +the clouds. After that, for a moment they whispered together, and at +last Job, as the senior, stepped forward and declared in a clear voice: + +"The Falkins boys is willin' ter hear what the Deacon's got ter say. +They're willin' to give their hands thet if they thinks he's a-lyin', as +he gene'lly is, they'll hold him safe twell the train leaves fer +Winchester termorrow mornin'--provided the Spooners keep faith." + +"That's all I ask," assented McAllister Falkins, and he held out his +hand. Slowly and solemnly, in the order of their ages, Job, Jim and Mark +shook it, pledging their kinsmen. The whole proceeding, so medieval and +rude, yet so characteristic, struck young Henry Falkins with a grip of +the dramatic. + +But that moment of drama was to be followed by another and tenser one, +for the elderly speaker turned toward the court-house door at his back, +and raised his hand; and in response to the signal the tall and +dignified figure of the Deacon appeared for a moment framed there, and +came forward to take his place at the side of his sponsor. + +They knew he was coming, were expecting him; had agreed to hear him +speak, and yet, when they actually saw him, it was with something like a +shock to the Falkins element, so that, despite the bondage of their +pledge, a low chorused growl ran from throat to throat. Many of their +younger clansmen had never seen this man of whom such black tales were +told. None of the older men had seen him in recent years. + +His name and his repute stood as a title of ruthless power, of guile and +murder. It was a name with which children were frightened into obedience +in log-cabins, up and down the creeks where Falkinses and Falerins +dwelt. + +And for a space Black Pete said nothing. He stood looking down, his +broad shoulders drawn back, his hat at the familiar forward tilt, his +long chin raised, and in his steady eyes the contemplative half-dreamy +look of a pastor gazing down on his flock. Perhaps he was thinking of +that other scene when another man had stood, just as he did now, on an +elevation at the front of a court-house. That man had fallen at his +order. The Deacon knew that to one-half of his auditors he was a man +"marked down" and a truce-breaker, but his face mirrored no such +recognition, no apprehension, and, when he began to speak, his voice +went out to the far edge of the crowd, though it went in such soft +modulation that it did not seem loud to those who stood nearest. + +He declared that he was not attempting to defend his past. His present +mission was reparation. He told with a homely and convincing force, yet +with modesty and humbleness, of his experiences and conversion. He had +come back only to ask permission to stay; and, if permitted to do so, +his influences would hereafter be for peace. + +McAllister and Henry Falkins would testify that it was at his suggestion +that these speeches had been made. He had talked with the Spooner +leaders, and could also speak for them. He was ready to establish a +truce of two years' duration, and he hoped at the end of that time it +might be made permanent. He did not hope to be believed without proof. +He therefore offered himself as a hostage, and hereby placed himself in +the custody of the three Falkinses, who stood upon the court-house +steps. He would go unarmed to their houses as often as required, and +keep in touch with them--as a probationer. He took all the chances that +such a course involved--and took them willingly, he said, since, if he +could bring peace to men who should live as neighbors and friends, his +own life was a little thing. It was a masterful bit of hypocritical +eloquence, of _argumentum ad hominem_; but it was made to simple and +illiterate hearers. At its end, he turned dramatically, drew from its +holster his heavy-calibered revolver, and presented it, grip foremost, +to Job Falerin. An almost awed silence fell on the audience. Across the +street, windows began to open cautiously and female heads to peer out. +The long, unbroken quiet had reassured the town. Curiosity was +overcoming caution. From the hotel, a short distance away, two traveling +salesmen, who had heretofore remained indoors, ventured to take a walk +of investigation. Then with an audacity that only a born leader would +have risked, the Deacon made a suggestion to his custodians and with +them went down the stairs, not among the Spooners, but among the +Falkinses. He walked like a revival convert being accepted into +fellowship. He offered his hand to young Jake with the declaration: + +"Jake, I aims to see that the trials for your pappy's killin' are on the +dead square." + +After a moment of hesitation and to the astonishment of everyone, the +young feudist accepted and shook the proffered hand, which, though he +did not know it, had directed the assassination of his sire. In about +ten minutes, the three Falkins men and their hostage returned to the +steps, where McAllister and Henry still waited, and in final ceremony +the three Spooners gravely shook hands with the three Falkinses. Upon +that signal, the clear space of the pathway overflowed, and the men on +both sides mingled. Flasks appeared, and enemy drank with enemy. The +truce was signed. Henry Falkins heard one old man from far back in the +hills say to another, equally old, to whom he had not spoken in years: + +"Jesse, you damned old sinner, why hain't ye nuver come over ter buy +them hawgs offen me thet ye traded fer ten year back?" + +And the other man laughed shrilly, and retorted: + +"Why you dod-gasted ol' rascal, I knew too durn well ye'd swindle me." +And then with loud guffaws of laughter they passed and tilted the flask, +and hobbled away arm-in-arm. + +From the window of a house on Main Street, commanding the rutty +thoroughfare which glared in the yellow July sun, Minerva looked out at +the scene of reconciliation, and her heart beat with relief. A day of +bloodshed had been averted, and the man she had ridden a dangerous road +to warn walked in safety with his shoulders drawn back and his face +smiling. For a moment, the girl wished that he might know how, since +that day when he handed her the medal, she had carried his image in her +heart--but, of course, if he remembered her at all, it must be only as +one of the children of the old benighted order who were availing +themselves of the light from the torch of which he had so eloquently +spoken. + +But in all this peace-making one man saw only defeat. Newt Spooner with +heavy heart had left the crowd, and mounted his horse. Despair had +settled on his soul, for now to kill Henry Falkins would be an +impossibility. But as he rode into Main Street, crowded with +indiscriminately mingled factions, he saw McAllister Falkins a +half-block away and his son Henry, walking side by side. + +Then, suddenly, Newt Spooner saw all things through a fog of crimson. +The blood leaped to his temples and pounded there. He had made no truce, +had signed no pledge, was bound by no man's bond. He would kill Henry +Falkins here and now, and then go down like a mad mullah, satisfied to +pay the penalty with his own life. He cocked the rifle and swung +sidewise in his saddle, supporting his weight on one leg, so that he +might face the better to the side. Then he kicked both heels into the +sides of the old nag, and went yelling and careening down the street, to +overtake his victim and defy both clans. + +Still gazing from the window, Minerva Rawlins saw that, too, and stood +breathless with her hands against her breast, as the wild-eyed, +liquor-inflamed boy came dashing along through the crowd. The town was +small, and here, on the little strip of Main Street, all its activities +centered. She looked on as one may watch a stage from a box, and her +fingers clutched at her calico dress, as she stood in an agony of +suspense. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The town marshal at Jackson was Micah French, and he was town marshal +because his temperament was not one to be depressed by the quick step of +stressful events. The arrival in town of men a-gallop and inflamed by +liquor was not in those days unusual, and was regarded with a certain +tolerance. The law was accustomed to let youth have its fling and later, +under circumstances more auspicious, to serve a writ on the offender and +hale him in a spirit of contrition before the magistrate. + +This, however, was no ordinary day. Had Newt Spooner timed his +demonstration for forty-five minutes earlier, his coming would have set +such a large storm thundering that no peace-maker could have averted +battle. Newt had waited, hoping to placate the Deacon, and had failed. +Now, in desperation, he was running amuck. For a moment, Micah French, +loitering at the curb in front of the court-house, failed to grasp the +significance of the matter. He followed the course of usage, and allowed +Newt to pass by. + +But the Deacon, standing in a doorway which McAllister and Henry Falkins +were just then approaching, recognized the full threat of the episode. +He was accompanied by the six men of both clans, who had undertaken to +act as the personal guard for Old Mack. As the two peace-makers came +abreast, the Deacon, laying a hand on the arm of each, halted them and +gave a signal to the others to close around. Then, as the two men, so +suddenly swallowed in a human cordon, still questioned without +comprehension, they were borne back into the doorway of the small shack +store, and the Deacon with his three Spooner kinsmen ran again to the +street. + +The Falkins guardsmen had taken in the whole situation at a glance, and +they remained indoors with the men whose safeguarding had suddenly +become something more than an honorary task. The thing had been abrupt, +but they needed no explanation. A Spooner had "bust loose," and to the +Spooners belonged the first duty of handling their own law-breakers. If +the Spooners failed, then they could themselves act later. + +So, Newt, aflame with rage and the liquor which during all the forenoon +he had been drinking, jerked his horse to its flanks, and looked wildly +about. He had been riding in the approved fashion of the mountain bad +man with his reins in his teeth and both hands dedicated to his +firearms. His feet had been flying like flails because the old nag was +unresponsive to his belligerent ardor and lent itself grudgingly to this +mad career. But, spurring and shouting through his clenched teeth with +his body swung sidewise for the broadside, Newt suddenly saw his victim +surrounded and spirited into a place of safety. Then, with a howl of +anger, he took one hand from his rifle to drag at his horse's mouth. He +was going into that house, if he had to fight his way over every man in +Jackson. By-standers scattered, not because they feared a drunken boy +with a gun, but because just now they stood on their good behavior, and +hesitated to shoot. + +"Let me git at Henry Falkins! Git outen my road!" screamed the boy. His +whole appearance was that of a maniac, and, as he spoke, the Deacon and +his three henchmen came hurrying from the door into the street. Newt did +not see them because his mad course had carried him a few yards beyond +the shack which was his objective, but Black Pete and his allies were +losing no time. As the boy swung himself from his saddle on the far side +of his nag, his eyes still turned inward, he flung himself straight into +the bear-like hug of the Deacon. Before he could struggle free, he was +pinioned by three other pairs of arms, and was a prisoner. Kicking, +biting and bellowing, he was disarmed and carried unceremoniously out +into the street. + +Someone asked contemptuously, "Who is that fool kid?" for Newt had not +been much seen in Jackson since they had taken him down to the state +prison, and to many persons he was still a stranger. + +The boy himself tried to answer, but was silenced by a hand clapped +roughly over his mouth; so he only gurgled and choked. + +"It's only Little Newt Spooner," enlightened the Deacon commiseratingly. +"He's just got drunk, an' ain't hardly responsible. Where's Micah +French?" + +"What air ye 'lowin' ter do with him?" asked a Falkins man, who expected +the lad's kinsmen to make excuses for him, and carry him back to his own +cabin. The Deacon looked up with a glance of grave reproach, as though +the question grieved him. + +"What can we do with him, except put him in the jail-house? He was +breakin' the law, wasn't he? He was threatenin' the peace and quiet, an' +endangerin' human life, wasn't he?" + +It was a timely and popular play. The Deacon had offered to prove his +conversion by his works, and here within the hour was an opportunity +ready to his hand. It was a thing almost unheard of in feud usage, this +turning a relative over to Falkins officers. And yet as greatly as it +strengthened him in the eyes of the public, it carried a tremendous +danger. He could now expect no loyalty from Newt. Newt, if he came to +trial, might be stung into telling what he knew of the Deacon's part in +the murder of old Jake. Still, it was a case for quick decision, and he +did not hesitate. Moreover, Newt in jail would be more amenable to +persuasion than Newt out of jail. + +Falkins men gravely declared that Black Pete was standing up to his +contract, and, since none of the Spooners cared much for "little Newt," +he had small sympathy among his own kindred. + +To the left of Jackson's court-house sits Jackson's "jail-house"--for +the mountaineer would as readily call a court-house a court as a +jail-house a jail. It is a small building of home-baked bricks, and its +windows are low and iron-barred. Just now, it was empty--save for Newt +Spooner. The solitary inmate was not to be released until the Deacon +spoke the word, but there was no intention of bringing him to trial. It +was merely a case of "sobering up" explained the peace-maker, as he +rejoined the street crowd. + +Not until the next day did the Deacon go to the boy there, and when he +went, he went alone. + +"Son," he said sadly, as he looked down on the seated figure, which did +not rise to receive him, "I hated to do you that way worse than I can +tell you. You know why I had to do it, don't you?" + +"I knows," accused the boy bitterly, "that ye gits ever'body kilt thet +ye wants kilt, an' I knows thet ye lied ter me an' fooled me. I knows +thet ye've done been a damned traitor." + +"I reckon it does look right smart that way to you, son," acceded the +other. "It can't hardly help seemin' that way--an' yet I was tryin' to +save your life, an' I did save it." + +"I hain't none beholden ter ye fer thet," snorted Newt. "I didn't ask ye +ter save my life. I'd a heap ruther ye'd quit a-meddlin' so damn' much +in my business." + +"But listen, son. A man can afford to look ahead an' bide his time. Just +now, we've got to lay low an' keep quiet. All the Spooners except you +have agreed to do that. You're a young feller with your life ahead of +you, and waitin' a little won't hurt you. You've got to let this Falkins +boy alone for a year. When I talked to you at Winchester, I didn't +rightly know how things stood down here. Give me your hand on that, an' +I'll get you out of here." + +"I won't do hit," snapped the boy, defiantly. + +"Then I guess you'd better stay here a while." The Deacon's voice was +regretful. + +"Ye means thet I kin lie in this jail-house tell I promises ye not ter +hurt Henry Falkins?" + +"Till you promise not to hurt him for a year," amended the other. + +"An' I tells ye you kin everlastin'ly go ter hell!" shouted Newt, his +face working spasmodically under his wrath. + +It would have brought a ray of comfort to Newt, had he known that +Minerva had fought back her disgust for the wild and lawless picture he +had made, and had asked permission to visit him in the jail. She had +wanted to plead with him, as the Deacon had pleaded, though it was not +for a year, but for always, that she would have begged him to bury his +enmity. Perhaps, she thought, if in this hour he felt the hand-clasp of +friendship, he might realize that there are better things than hatred +and the blind service of hatred. But the Deacon thought it best that no +one save himself should talk with Newt. He might tell too much. + +"I'm right sorry," he said, and his eyes were gravely sympathetic; "but +the boy's been drinkin' right smart, an' I reckon it wouldn't hardly be +best for you to see him. No, it wouldn't hardly be wise." + +Three days the Deacon left him there, but on each day he argued at +length and kindly, pointing out that his action was the hard course of +one who could not permit his sympathies to swerve him. Meanwhile, the +prisoner was practically in solitary confinement, for the Falkins jailer +followed the Deacon's directions, and allowed no one else to talk with +him. + +On the third day, Newt capitulated, and, though his promise of twelve +months of forbearance was given under duress, and the Deacon knew he had +incurred an enmity which would be lifelong, he knew, too, that the +promise would be kept. That night Newt rode sullenly to the cabin on +Troublesome, and stabled and fed the nag, and, when he had taken his +place in front of the fire, he sat moodily and in unbroken silence for a +half-hour, and then he looked up, and said shortly, + +"Clem, I reckon I'm a-ready to do my sheer of work on the place. I'll +feed the hawgs in ther mornin'." + +A cold drizzle had come with nightfall; a fire had been built. One by +one, the family "lay down," and from the four corners of the room came +the heavy breathing of their slumber. But Minerva did not at once fall +asleep, and so she knew that far into the night Newt sat gazing into the +dying embers, and she covertly and shyly watched his face, very drawn +and miserable. + +At last, she slipped from the covers, and, coming over, laid a hand on +his shoulder. + +"Newt," she said in a low voice, "you're in trouble, boy--and I'm +sorry." + +"Thet's all right, Minervy," he answered, without moving, but into the +surliness of his voice crept a trace of breaking. + +Some day, of course, she must tell him exactly how responsible she had +been for his failure, but just now she could not. He was wretched +because he had not succeeded in repeating the infamy and the crime which +had at first wrecked his life. By every theory of morals and every form +of right-thinking he was beyond the pale of sympathy--and yet--Minerva +Rawlins had in her veins enough of vendetta blood to understand that his +suffering was genuine and that from his one view-point he had defaulted +a debt of honor. + +It was a thing of her doing, a thing which, if need be, she would do +again; but that did not prevent her seeing in the thin, haggard-faced +boy, who watched the embers die to ashes, a creature for whom she could +feel sorrow--even sympathy. Perhaps it was a sympathy too wide in its +scope; but, if so, it was a criticism for which Christ, Lord of broad +sympathies, might, possibly, have felt a leniency. + + * * * * * + +In the months that followed, Henry Falkins organized and drilled into +some semblance of military form a company of militiamen. His men were +enlisted from Falkins and Falerin territory, and, though he invited the +Spooners to join them, the distance made it impracticable. Henry +believed that by military training these people might be weaned from +lawless intolerance to a rudimentary acceptance of discipline. + +One day, Newt Spooner, having ridden over to Jackson, saw these raw +amateurs going through their manual of arms, and he stood at the side +and sneered contemptuously as he watched. But the Deacon, who watched, +too, did not sneer. With a constant diplomacy Black Pete had +rehabilitated his reputation, and, if any of the Falkins clan still +disbelieved in his sincerity, he was lonely in his scepticism. Men on +both sides ceased to speak of the "truce," and called it by the more +permanent name of "peace." But, reflected the far-sighted Deacon, there +might come an outbreak some day, and then it would be no advantage to +the Spooners to have a hundred Falkinses take to the brush with the +high-power military rifles. It would be just as well, if this militia +idea were a good one, to carry it further. The county should have not +one company--but two. Over in the section where the Spooners held +dominance, the second should be mustered. So, in the course of time, the +Spooner platoons were duly organized and taken into the state guard. The +Deacon himself consented only to become a sergeant. Yet, from the +inception, it was the sergeant, rather than the captain or lieutenant, +who dictated every matter of importance. + +The feeling between the erstwhile enemies had become outwardly so +cordial that a challenge was given and accepted for a competitive drill, +and Newt, who had at first scoffed and then yielded to the lure of the +military, marched with his comrades the little matter of twenty miles to +Jackson, bearing a Springfield rifle and wearing a state uniform. + +He had seen Henry Falkins only once since that Fourth of July, and it +was now October. The hills were ablaze with gold and burgundy and +scarlet. Newt knew that Captain Falkins would not command his company +that day: that he was in fact "down below." Had he not been assured of +this, he would have stayed at home and sulked in the woods. + +He was biding his time. He had neither forgotten nor forgiven. + +And yet, in spite of the black shadows of a life which exalted the +vindictive and scowled on every gracious thing, Newt Spooner felt to-day +the stirring of a new emotion. In this novel game of playing soldier, he +found, rather against his will, an interest that threatened to become an +enthusiasm. For the first time in his lonely life, he began to taste, +with a tang of relish, the pleasures of companionship. These men with +whom he hiked accorded him a rough fellowship. At first, he had been +suspicious and surly, but now, when they called him the "tough kid of +Troublesome," he grinned sheepishly and without resentment. Newt was +waking out of a sleep that had lasted since babyhood and that had been +all nightmare. + +The flaming hills with their veils of violet haze across the distances; +the cheerful rustle of crisp leaves under foot; the whole autumnal gamut +of color and fragrance and spice was softening the world, even to its +hard men of the mountains. They swung their rifles and kits with a +tramp-like slouchiness, and when the noon grew warm they insisted on +hiking with their shirt-tails outside their trousers; but in their +swinging gait was a tireless energy that could walk armory-trained men +off their feet, and then, if called on, go fresh into battle. + +They swung down Jay-bird Creek, and passed the mouth of Fist-fight, and +there, lying above its saw-mill, came to view a bit of landscape as much +out of the picture as though it had been torn from another page of the +geography and pasted there by mistake. At the edge of a town, so +sprawling and ragged that one did not see it until he stumbled upon it +out of a creek-bed gulch, spread the smooth campus of the college. + +But, before they reached that point, the commanding officer halted his +command. + +"Boys," was his informal suggestion, "we're about to pass thet-there +new-fangled college. I reckon we mout es well give them folks a treat. +Let's fall in an' march by there like shore-'nough soldiers." + +Newt Spooner happened to be the file of his four, and as they trailed by +the cheering little group of students, the ex-convict saw "Clem's gal" +leaning on the palings, and though he did not know why, he felt +something akin to pride and excitement, and straightened his shoulders, +and bore his rifle more jauntily. Minerva leaned forward, waving her +sun-bonnet, and called out, "Newt, I hope you boys win," and the lad +marched on, strangely pleased. + +In that picture of men marching in ordered ranks, and wearing the +uniform which denoted service, she thought she saw a long step toward +conversion, and an approach to a better standard, and Minerva, too, felt +a flutter of pleasure as she watched the column disappear around the +curve of the road with its yellow dust-cloud clinging in its wake. + +The militia officer from the bluegrass, who had come to act as umpire, +masked his smile as he judged that contest. Then the amusement died, and +he remembered Napoleon's criterion: "The best soldier is he who can +bivouac shelterless, throughout the year." + +A temporary rifle-range had been established, and in the improvised pit, +with a fifty-year-old sergeant acting as target-marker, sat the officer +from "down below." The mountaineer squatted like a clay effigy on his +heels, and smoked a cob pipe. + +"Sergeant," suggested the officer in a pause, during the overhead +shrieking of rifle-bullets, "in case trouble started down here in the +hills--I mean if soldiers were called out--what do you think these men +would do? Could they be relied on?" + +The mountaineer drew a long puff from his pipe, and smiled grimly. + +"Wall, now, _lew_-tenant," he drawled thoughtfully, "I'll jest tell ye +ther truth. Ef thar was ter be trouble _somewhars else_ these-here +fellers would be all right; but jest right round hyar--well, I hain't so +plumb shore." + +"Then you think--?" The officer left the question unfinished, and the +target-marker again grinned. + +"I hain't thinkin' nothin' much, but ye kin jedge yerself, _lew_-tenant, +thet ef a couple of hundred fellers with these-hyar fur-shootin' guns +was ter take ter the brush, thar mout be some hell ter pay fer a spell. +I kinder reckon," he added gravely, "thet, ef things bust loose +hyar-abouts, hit mout be a right-good idee ter take all these fellers up +to Loueyville and lock 'em up in the jail-house thar. It mout be a +right-good idea." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +A man whose outlook on life had been broader than Newt's, and whose +brain did not receive constant poisoning from within, would have +softened that fall and winter, because a new influence was working upon +him. + +The influence was Minerva, and the boy found himself, as the splendid +fall died swiftly into the unspeakable desolation of a mountain winter, +counting the days between her visits to the cabin. But of this he said +nothing, and the only evidences he gave to her at first were mute +evidences, and a greater ferocity in suppressing the spirit of nagging +and persecution to which his mother and sister drifted with inevitable +perversity. When the girl returned at Christmas, after a longer absence +than usual, she found, to her astonishment, the contour of the cabin +altered. Newt had thrown against one end an additional room. It was a +simple annex of hewn logs and puncheon floor with a clay-daubed chimney +and no windows, but it was tight-chinked and solidly weather-tight. When +she asked about it, her step-mother sniffed contemptuously that it was +some of "Newty's foolishness." Later, when the boy himself came in and +saw her sitting with the family circle before the fire in the main +cabin, he shuffled his feet clumsily, and seemed unwilling to meet her +eyes. A great embarrassment was on him and he was more diffident in her +presence than he had ever been before. The girl saw it and wondered, +and, when she could do so without attracting too much attention, she +found an opportunity to lead him outside. + +"M'nervy," the boy said shortly, when they were alone, "sence ye've been +a-consortin' with them-thar fotched-on teachers at the school, hit seems +like ye hain't got much use fer us plain folks. I reckon ye're +right-smart ashamed ter acknowledge ter them folks who yore kin air." + +"Oh, Newty!" she exclaimed, with a world of surprise and reproach in her +voice. Her face flamed hotly; for, to the mountain idea, disloyalty to +"kith and kin" is the most unpardonable of offenses. It was the first +time she had ever called him Newty. They were standing out in the icy +air of the door-yard. + +Inside the main cabin, the family huddled before the fire, as +uncommunicative as cattle. The pall of the black squalor had been +tightening about the girl's heart like an impalpable constrictor and +almost strangling it. Outside, the bitter wind lashed her calico skirt +about her slim ankles, and cut like a knife. The boy, who wore no +overcoat, stamped his feet, and thrust his chapped and reddened hands +into his threadbare pockets. + +"Oh, Newty," she expostulated again indignantly, "I thought ye knew me +better then ter accuse me of bein' ashamed of my own folks!" + +"They hain't your'n," snorted the lad in a queer, hard voice. "Thet is, +none of 'em hain't your'n barrin' yore pap. I hain't sayin' nothin' +'gainst Clem ter ye, cause ye're his gal; but the rest on 'em is my +folks and I reckon I kin say what I likes. I hain't never had a friend +in this house twell ye came hyar. I've sot in thar night atter night an' +listened at thet old man a-ravin' an' a cussin' twell, ef he wasn't my +great-gran'pap, I'd hev choked him. I hear'n them women folks a-pickin' +on ye an' a pesterin' ye, an' I knows ye'd shake the dirt of this place +offen yore feet an' quit hit for good, ef hit warn't thet ye 'lows they +needs ye. Ye had ought ter do hit, M'nervy. Nobody wouldn't blame ye." + +The girl shook her head. The moon had peeped over the shoulder of a +sugar-loaf peak, and flooded the world in cobalt. The stark sycamores +along the creek-bank rose gaunt and gray, and the ragged picket fence +and stile and barn were black etchings against the frosted hills. On the +boy's face the silver light showed a tracery of bitterness and +weariness. To Minerva it ceased to be the face of an ex-convict and a +vindictive criminal. It was only the rather thin and wizened visage of a +prematurely aged boy, who had, in his wild-animal sort of way, +undertaken to be her champion. He had undertaken it much as the dog with +a name for ferocity might indicate its devotion to someone whose hand +had not been afraid to caress its unlovely muzzle. She impulsively +stretched out her hand and laid it on his coat-sleeve, and his arm +shook, not alone with the cold, but with a strange new agitation under +a touch of kindness. + +"Newty," she said softly, "why don't you shake the dirt of this place +offen your feet?" Her talk mixed up strangely mountain vernacular and +the more correct form of speech which they had striven to teach her, at +the school. + +Newt only looked at her with a short laugh. + +"Whar'd I go?" he demanded fiercely. "What do I know? What could I do? +This is whar I b'longs." With a contemptuous jerk of his head toward the +cabin, he added: "Them's my kind o' folks. I was born amongst 'em, an' I +hain't been nowhars else except ther penitentiary." + +It was on the point of her tongue to remind him that he had been to +school; that he could read and write, and was young and strong, and that +all the world lay open to him, but she waited. If she was to influence +him, she must go slowly and guardedly. So, instead, she asked a question +about the thing of which he had wanted to speak and concerning which he +found himself suddenly tongue-tied. + +"What's the new room, Newty?" she demanded. + +"Oh, hell!" ejaculated the boy with a sudden rush of color that even the +moonlight failed to hide. "Damned ef I didn't plumb fergit hit!" That +was a lie, for he had not forgotten, only he had been too bashful to +speak. Now he led her over and opened the door. + +A fire was roaring inside on the hearth. The place was unfurnished +except for a chair, a bed and a table, all home-made, but all clean and +soundly carpentered. In the Frankfort prison, Newt had worked in the +chair-factory. + +"Ye see, M'nervy," he went on, floundering for words, "ye see, I hain't +had nothin' much ter do round hyar, an' I thought hit mout kill some +time ter sort of build this-hyar contraption. I 'lowed ye mout be a +little more satisfied ef ye had a room of yore own, whar ye could go to, +an' put ther bar acrost the door, when them women folks pestered ye, an' +tell 'em ter go ter hell." + +As the girl looked about the place--all her own--tears came welling to +her eyes. How could this boy--more nearly a wild beast than any other +human creature she had ever known--have had the delicacy to understand +that longing for privacy and self-withdrawal which at times had almost +maddened her with its intensity? She sank down in the one chair and sat +with the flames playing on her face and lighting the tears that flowed +noiselessly, and, when she looked up to thank her champion, he was +gazing down on her with a face set in a mask-like tautness,--less it +betray emotion of which he was ashamed. + +But he had not missed the tears in her eyes and he knew that his humble +service had moved her. Suddenly he knew something else. It was not only +because she had been less unpleasant than the other members of the +household that he had missed her when she went away and had looked +forward to her home-coming. He had set up his shrine to hatred of +mankind. His experience had taught him much of enmity and little of +love. He knew in an impersonal fashion that men had sweethearts and went +"sparking" with girls, but for all this sort of thing he had retained in +his young manhood the same sort of contempt which most boys pass through +and out-grow in earlier life. + +Now, he stood there before the roar of the fire on the hearth that he +had built and watched the shadows retreat into the corners of the room. +He saw Minerva sitting with her eyes still pensive and her lips still +smiling, and the flames awakening soft color on her cheeks and mahogany +glints in her hair. + +She was beautiful. To a more discerning eye that would have long ago +been apparent, but until now beauty had meant nothing to Newt Spooner. +It had not existed. + +So, with the stunning effect of light breaking on eyes that have been +sightless, the young man in the frayed and drab homespun, whose brain +had been even more colorless and somber than his clothes, felt a wild +hunger to take her in his arms and claim her for his own. That this +thing had been growing in his mind, unrealized until this moment, he did +not suspect. That it was much less sudden than it seemed, he did not +understand. He knew only that he, Newt Spooner, vassal to hate, was now +in love, and, as he acknowledged it to himself, his face became drawn +and pale, and his hands clenched themselves, for with the +self-confession came utter despair. + +She sat there in the chair he had made, by the hearth he had reared, in +the room he had built--and the work had been that of a good craftsman +because they had compelled him to learn in the penitentiary. Outside the +winds were screaming about the roof-slabs he had nailed down. She was so +close that he could put out his hand and touch her--and because now he +wanted her beyond everything, even beyond the life of the man who had +ruined his life, it was terribly clear that she could never be close to +him except in such physical proximity as that of this moment. + +The ex-convict was not accustomed to thought. In its stead, he had +substituted brooding. Thought is hard and tinged with torture for the +brain that has not been reflective. Yet now he must think. + +Minerva had been to the college. She yearned for even a greater degree +of education. He had built this room because he understood how she +shrank from the squalid and unclean life of the mountain cabin--and in +all the mountains was no more squalid creature than himself. She +despised the idea of blood-reprisal, and to forego that would, by his +standards, mean a baser surrender than for a priest to repudiate his +cloth. + +He was ignorant, penniless, vindictive. She was, to his thinking, +learned, fastidious and pledged to the new "fotched-on" order. + +Should he tell her that he loved her, provided he could imagine his +stoic lips shaping such phrases, she could only be offended and +distressed. He must not tell her. That one thing seemed certain, and, +as he stood there, masking the storm in his thin breast under a +scowling visage of tightly compressed lips and drawn brow, he was being +racked by a yearning greater than he had ever known or imagined. + +How long he remained rigid and silent he did not know, but at last he +heard her voice, speaking very softly: + +"Newty, you have been very good to me. You did all this for me--and yet +even you don't know how much it means to me." + +"Hit warn't nothin'," he answered in a dead voice. Then, having resolved +not to betray himself, he found himself crying out to his own surprise, +in a tumult of fierce and passionate feeling: "I'd go plumb down inter +hell, fer ye, M'nervy." + +The girl looked up, then she rose unsteadily, and laid a hand on his +arm. Her eyes were gazing very fixedly into his, and she spoke eagerly: + +"You say you'd do that--for me. Do something else, Newty. Come--out of a +life that's not much better than hell--for me." + +He spoke quietly again, though under her finger-touch his arm shook as +if it were suddenly palsied: + +"I don't jest plumb understand ye." + +"Give it all up, Newty." She was talking excitedly, and her words came +fast. "Give up this idea of vengeance. It's all wrong and mistaken--and +wicked. It hurts you most of all. You said out there to-night that this +was the only life you ever knew--" + +"This an' ther penitenshery," he corrected her; and a harsh note stole +into the words as he uttered them. + +"There are other lives you can know. Can't you forego this idea of +vengeance? Can't you forget it?" + +The man gave a short and hollow laugh. + +"I reckon so," he answered. Then, as his eyes flashed wildly, his +utterance rose and snapped out the remainder of his response. "When +Henry Falkins is dead an' buried--damn him!" + +Minerva stood looking into the face that was close to her own. It was a +face branded and stamped with so fierce a vindictiveness that she +realized the hopelessness of argument. It would have been as easy to +persuade a maniac to become sane by asking him to lay aside his lunacy. +She turned and dropped into her chair, then, looking straight ahead at +the blazing logs, she went on, holding her voice steady and even: + +"When you were in jail, Newty--at Jackson--I tried to see you. But +they--they wouldn't let me." + +The bitterness left his eyes, and he bent suddenly forward. + +"Ye tried ter see me--in ther jail-house? What fer did ye do thet?" + +"I wanted to tell you, I was sorry--and to beg you to give up--your +idea. I didn't know until that day that you were nursing a +grudge--against Mr. Falkins." + +For a while, Newt stood silent. Finally, he said curtly: + +"I'm obleeged ter ye." + +"But that isn't all, Newt." Minerva's hands were clasped in her lap, and +the fingers twined themselves nervously and tightened as she went on. +"I've got to tell you all of it. I heard that morning--what you aimed to +do--and I went to Jackson--to warn him." + +The mountaineer drew back, and over his pale face passed a paroxysm of +bitterness, which at first left him wordless. His posture grew rigid, +and, if Minerva Rawlins had been capable of physical fear, she would +have felt it then, because she was looking into eyes burning with the +fire of mono-mania. But, at last, he spoke in the same dead voice, and +only to ask a question: + +"How did ye know? Who betrayed me?" + +"I can't tell you that. I knew that, if you succeeded, you would ruin +your life--as well as end his. You are bound to see sometime that all +this idea of a man's being his own judge and jury and executioner is +wicked, and then--if you had succeeded--" She raised her hands in a +despairing gesture, and broke off. + +Once more the boy had become stiff in his attitude, and his face seemed +a gargoyle of hatred. + +"Ef I'm goin' ter be so plumb miserable erbout hit," he said slowly, "I +mout as well suffer fer a couple as fer one. Who war hit thet betrayed +me?" + +Minerva shook her head. + +"You think of Henry Falkins as your bitter enemy. He isn't, Newt. He's +not any man's enemy. Only he has lived in the civilized world as well as +here, and he knows that a system that's built on murder is wrong. You +know only the Henry Falkins that you've imagined. I know how terrible it +must have been down there--at Frankfort.... I know that you had little +else to think about.... But just for that very reason you can't trust +the ideas that came to you down there. The real Henry Falkins isn't the +man you think." + +Newt Spooner took two slow steps, and stood before her. As he +half-turned, the fire fell on one side of his face, gleaming yellow and +vermilion on the gaunt angle of his jaw and chin, and kindling the other +and more baleful fire in his pupils. He talked in a monotone, and, as he +talked, the girl seemed to see a spirit dying in darkness and +confinement, as a potted plant might die in a cellar. + +"Ye says I didn't hev nothin' ter do down thar in ther peniten'shery but +ter study over false notions. Mebby ye're right, but I've done studied +hit all out--an' I've got 'em settled. I reckon ye hain't got no proper +idee of what a feller gits down thar in them damned stone walls, with +stripes on his clothes an' no decent air ter breathe an' no water ter +drink outen a runnin' spring-branch. Hev ye ever tried ter raise a young +hawk in a bird-cage, an' watched hit sicken an' die? They aims ter +reform fellers down thar. Well, jest watch an' see how good they've +reformed me." It was the longest speech she had ever heard him make, +but he was not through yet, and she did not interrupt. "Who sent me +thar? This Henry Falkins thet ye're braggin' about. Why did he do hit? +Out of the sneekin' meanness of his heart. War I ther fust feller +hyar-abouts thet ever kilt anybody? Why didn't ther rest of 'em go down +thar? Hit war because I war a kid thet didn't know no better then ter do +what I war bid, an' because them what bid me didn't stand behind me." He +paused and wiped his forehead on his coat-sleeve. "I didn't 'low thet +thar war anybody in ther world a feller could trust. Then I came back +hyar. I found my pappy dead, an' my ma married ergin, an' my rifle-gun +sold.... Then--" His words ended in a sort of wretched gasp. + +"Then you came hyar. I reckon I'd ought to hev knowed better by this +time then ter be beguiled, but I 'lowed I could trust you. Ye war ther +one body in ther world I'd 'a' swore by ... an' ye rid over thar an' +warned him, an' hed me throwed inter ther jail-house." + +He drew his shoulders back and turned slowly, starting toward the door; +but, with his hand on the latch, he paused, and added with cold +bitterness: + +"Ye've done succeeded in a-balkin' me oncet, M'nervy; but ye've done +'complished another thing besides thet. I only aimed ter kill Henry +Falkins oncet, but atter what ye've told me, ef thar war a way under +God's sun ter do hit--I'd kill him twicet." + +The girl rose and came over, and her hands fell on the boy's arm. + +"Newty," she pleaded with tears of desperation in her eyes. "Newty, you +must try to understand me. It was for you as much as for him. It would +have ruined your life. Besides, you misunderstand him--" + +The young man shook her hands roughly away. + +"I reckon my life's done been ruint a'ready," he declared. Then, with an +up-leaping voice, he demanded as he fiercely caught her fore-arms in an +iron grasp: "Ye says I don't understand Henry Falkins. What does ye know +about him beyond what I knows?" The jealousy that rang through the +question was the only declaration of love he had ever made to her, and +his fingers unconsciously bit into her arms until they ached. + +"He came down to the school," she said faintly, "and he gave me this +medal because I had--I had tried to study hard." + +She had succeeded in withdrawing her hands, and groped at her throat for +the small metal disc, which she held out to him. But he drew back, his +eyes gleaming venomously. + +"I'd ruther tech a rattle-snake," he declared in a voice which she +hardly recognized, "then ter lay hands on anything thet damned dog hed +teched." She stood dazed, and he went on in the high-timbered shrillness +of excitement: "Some day I'm a-goin' to have a reckonin' with thet +feller, an', when I gits through, he won't go roun' givin' medals to no +other gals." He wheeled and stamped out of the room, and the girl did +not know that for hours he tramped the snowy woods of the mountainsides, +cursing under his breath, and redoubling his oath of reprisal. + + * * * * * + +News from the outside world percolates slowly into the quarantine of the +beleaguered hills. A fever that rushes hotly through the arteries of the +nation from sea to sea, is hardly a flush to the country that leads its +own isolated life. From Washington to 'Frisco, men were gathering at +bulletin boards and clinging with hot excitement to the latest word of +tidings. In city armories, militiamen were inspecting kits and drilling +overtime. The _Maine_ had been blown up in Havana harbor. The war fever +was burning thousands into fitful patriotism, but back there in the +Cumberland mountains, where men scarcely knew who was President of the +United States, life was going more placidly than usual. The war which +this country knew most about had waned into a two-years' truce. Less +than for two decades was there thought of fighting and blood-letting. +One day, Newt met a trader riding a spent mule through the mired roads +with a newspaper protruding from his splattered saddle-bags. + +"I reckon you soldiers'll get a chance ter sashay out an' show what's in +ye now," said the trader with a grin, as though he found the idea highly +humorous. + +"What does ye mean?" demanded the boy, resting on his grounded rifle and +fixing the other with steady, incurious eyes. "Hes the Falkinses busted +the truce?" + +The trader laughed. + +"Wuss then thet. This country's a-goin' ter declare war on Spain." He +made the announcement with the superior air of one in touch with large +and distant affairs. + +"Who's Spain?" Newt Spooner put the question gravely and with no sense +of betraying untoward ignorance. In the log school-house years ago he +might have been told the answer to that question, but such matters had +since then escaped his attention. + +"Spain," enlightened the trader, whose geographical ideas had also until +recently been vague, "is a country in ther other world--you has to go +acrost the ocean ter git thar." + +"Who lives thar?" inquired the lad. + +"Hit's a country of outlanders." + +Newt stood for a moment gazing across the dreary wastes of broken +ridges. + +"Well," he said calmly, "I reckon we kin go over thar an' lick 'em, ef +need be." + +But, if the fever came slowly to the hills, it infected the men of the +two new companies thoroughly enough when it did come. So far, each +organization was drilling in its own territory, and, when the boy +thought of Henry Falkins, it was not in connection with the war with +Spain, but as the principal enemy in another war. On the lintel of the +cabin door was a series of notches cut by his pocket-knife. Each month +he added a fresh one at the end of the line. When he had cut twelve, he +would have complied with his promise to the Deacon, and would once more +tramp across the mountains on the mission which had been too often +thwarted. Already there were seven of these cryptic reminders, and in a +few days more the eighth would be added. + +Minerva came and went, and Newt at first spoke to her as little as +possible; but, when the other women of the family nagged her, he rose +fiercely to her defense. The girl sought by gentleness and diplomacy to +win him back to open friendship, but he held sullenly aloof. + +At last, she said: + +"Newty, can't we be friends again? Even if you can't understand what I +did, can't you believe me when I say I did it as much for you as for +him?" + +He stood twisting his brogan toe in the hard-tramped dirt of the cabin +yard. His face was expressionless. He looked at her, and turned away his +face, while over it went a spasm of pain. + +"I reckons what ye did appeared right ter ye, M'nervy," he generously +acceded. "I reckon I've got more quarrel with them new-fangled notions +they l'arns ye down thar at ther college then what I hev with you. They +aimed ter l'arn me them same things at ther penitenshery--but I wasn't +ter be corrupted. But all I kin see is thet ye warned my enemy, an' thet +ye made common cause with him ergin me." + +On the fourth of next July, Newt was going to have a celebration all +his own. In his "marked-down" enemy, Newt saw a man whom he had never +injured and who had, with smug hypocrisy, attacked him in a cowardly +manner and made a felon of him. In his diseased imagination he pictured +Falkins gloating over this triumph. That score he meant to settle. It +was simple and immutable. + +Then came the day when once more the company from Troublesome hiked +across the hills to Jackson. Once more the college students were drawn +up at the palings to see them pass. Again they marched raggedly, but +their faces, instead of being good-humored and full of frolic, were +serious now. They were leaving the only country they had ever known. +They were going to cross the ocean, and invade a land as foreign to +their conceptions and ken as a continent on Mars. + +Minerva Rawlins was leaning across the fence, and, as Newt passed her, +he caught once more the flutter of her handkerchief. There was no +leave-taking, and she did not know that, as he left the cabin that +morning, his last words had been a warning to his mother and sister, +that, if they "pestered Clem's gal" while he was away, he would hold +them strictly to account on his return. + +At the railroad station in Jackson, the outfit was joined by the other +company; but, as Newt stood on the platform, his eyes somberly searching +the space where the men were gathered, he sought vainly for the figure +of Henry Falkins. At last, a corporal told him that the first +lieutenant was in command, and Newt made no audible comment. But to +himself he said: + +"I reckon the damn' coward was skeered ter come along. He kain't fight +Spain in no witness-cheer." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +When the two companies from the hills entrained that raw morning they +had no idea where they were going or what prospects lay ahead, but they +conceived days of action, and fell upon months of dull routine. The +mountaineer is restive under discipline and passionate in his insistence +on personal liberty. He bristles at a curt command. It irks his soul to +raise the right hand in salute when he passes another whose leggings are +of leather instead of canvas and whose shoulders are decorated with +certain insignia. To say "sir" in addressing a superior, or to admit any +form of superiority, is a harder thing than to march on short rations, +for a voice within is always making declaration, "I'm jest as good as +any man." + +So, the mountain companies did not at once fall into ordered and +frictionless assimilation in the big military machine--did not at once +become anonymous units. Yet even in the feud, men acknowledged the +necessity, when need arose, of sinking the personal grievance in +obedience to the clan requirement. With officers who failed to +understand them and who had not been willing to make haste slowly, they +would have become a mob of constant mutineers. But they were a part of a +regiment whose peace-footing was two battalions, and whose colonel, +though a bluegrass Kentuckian, understood and loved highland and lowland +alike. The two Breathitt county companies with another that had marched +forty-five miles from over near the Virginia line to entrain, made up +one battalion, while the other was from the edge of the bluegrass. When +he joined his bearded barbarians at Chickamauga, Colonel Burford smiled +happily. To him they were big-boned children, but he nursed them along +and taught them that the swift, military obedience asked of them was not +a concession to individuals, but to abstract efficiency, and that this +efficiency was their own chief interest. So, they came with astounding +haste into a full acceptance of the necessity. They were still raw and +looked like half-barbaric allies from the hinterland--as they were. They +wore their shirt-tails out like Chinamen on the long and dusty hikes, +and their service hats tilted at a dozen disreputable angles. They still +bantered each other in quaint Elizabethan English drawled in nasal +tones, but also they watched with keen, unblinking eyes the machine-like +evenness of the regulars, which it became their care, with swift +absorption, to imitate. They were the Second battalion of the Fifth +Kentucky, but they were better known as the "Shirt-tail battalion," and +their far-seeing colonel seemed, on the whole, contented with them. + +When other commands complained and sulked in the Georgia climate, and +crowded the hospitals, these mountaineers throve and said nothing. To +them the army ration was an improvement over their accustomed fare. On +kitchen detail they scowled, but served with stoicism--though "sich-like +was women's work"--and, when they went out as provost guardsmen to round +up the recalcitrant, they brought back their prisoners with +business-like despatch. Though they were seeing a new life, every detail +of which was wonderful to them, no sign or exclamation of surprise +escaped their bearded lips. The Kentucky mountaineer might walk through +the Champs Elysees of Paris, battered, threadbare and ignorant, but he +would carry his head high and gaze straight at every man, eye to eye, +giving no indication that any sight was new or unaccustomed. + +Out on the target-range a detachment was at work one day mastering the +problems of long-range fire with sadly inefficient rifles. It was +shortly after their arrival at Chickamauga, and Newt Spooner had just +fallen back, his Springfield still smoking with the black powder of its +discharge. He had scored a "bull," and his thin lips were gravely +pleased. Over the sultry area of the mobilization camp went the roar and +activity of war-preparation. Newly commissioned staff officers galloped +importantly from headquarters to headquarters. Mule trains and +commissariat-wagons rumbled noisily under yellow clouds of following +dust. Lines upon lines of company streets stretched away in a spread of +canvas with the locales of commands marked by brigade and regimental +colors; brazen mingling of shouts and bugles set to it its accompaniment +of sound. + +As Newt Spooner walked back, throwing open the breach of his piece, his +eyes fell on a new figure, which wore its uniform with as soldierly a +jauntiness as though it had never been accustomed to "cits." The face +was already bronzed, and the gauntleted hands rested on the saber-belt. +The man was Henry Falkins, and on his shoulder-straps and +collar-ornaments were not the twin bars of a captain, but the oak leaves +of a major. + +Newt, falling back toward the little group of his fellows who sat +cross-legged in the meager shadow of a tent-flap, halted suddenly and +stood for a moment transfixed. Then his hand stole to his +ammunition-belt, and toyed there with a cartridge. His face paled and +hardened. So, after all, his enemy had not stayed at home. + +Falkins looked up, and saw the soldier. He saw the attitude, and the +venomous hatred of the narrowed eyes, and the itching twitch of the +fingers at the cartridge-belt, and he knew then that his most dangerous +enemy would not be always at his front. But he nodded to the boy, and +said casually: + +"Spooner, that last shot was a neat one." + +The private did not answer. He did not salute, he did not move. He only +stood and glared. Henry Falkins turned his back on the potential +assassin, and strolled deliberately away. But the Deacon, now +"top-Sergeant" of B Company came over to the boy--who had taken one step +as if to follow Falkins--and stepped between. + +"Son," he said in a low voice, while his eyes were very steady and +quieting in their hypnotic quality, "your year ain't up yet--not by +several months. I reckon until the fourth of next July, you'd better not +let your face give you away like that. It's bad business in the army." + +The boy fell suddenly trembling with the reaction of his temptation. For +an instant, forgetful of his pledge, he had fully meant to shoot. Now, +he turned and walked back toward the group of seated comrades. After a +while, he inquired in a normal voice: + +"What's Henry Falkins a-doin' with them major's leaves on his +shoulder-straps? He hain't nothin' but captain of A Company. I thought +he'd done stayed at home." + +"He got here yesterday," enlightened the first sergeant. "He was sent +away about something, an' he wears a major's straps because he's +commandin' this battalion." + +"Ye mean"--Newt leaned passionately forward, and, in his bared +fore-arms, the muscles stood out corded--"ye mean thet Henry Falkins is +a-bossin' _us_?" + +The Deacon nodded. Then he added, in a carefully lowered voice: + +"Bide your time, son. It'll keep, an' we've got Spain on our hands +first." + +But the weeks passed, and the Shirt-tail battalion was no nearer Cuba, +though it was much nearer efficiency for the field. Other commands left +for Tampa and the front. Seemingly forgotten, regiments and brigades +drilled and waited and fretted at Chickamauga until disgust came in the +stead of ardor and hope of active service languished, and the +mountaineers alone remained patient. + +The Deacon was cut out for handling men, and was winning the name of an +unusually efficient top-sergeant. With his experience in the outside +world, he seemed a wise and capable shepherd going in and out among his +sheep. + +At last came orders. The command was to move, but instead of moving +toward Tampa and Cuba, where the fighting had been, it was to take train +across the continent, and join other waiting thousands at San Francisco, +remote from the theater of war. The bluegrass troops grumbled afresh, +but the men from the mountains kept their peace. They had not enlisted +for any particular type of service. The President of the United States +had called for men--and they had answered. It was up to the President. + +That journey across the continent, across endless prairies and flat +plains and into strange surroundings was also a revelation to Newt and +his fellows, but they gazed out of the car windows with as little +outward evidence of interest as cattle being shipped in box-cars. + +And from early June until late in October they sat down and waited at +Camp Meritt and the Presidio, drilling and being whipped into shape +until it seemed to them that military life was the only life they had +known. And between June and October falls the month of July, and in the +month of July comes the fourth. + +Over Private Newt Spooner's cot in his tent hung a calendar. Each day he +carefully marked off a number, and, as he kept track of the time, a +strange sort of contentment appeared to descend upon his soul. He +studied his drill-manual, threw himself into the life of soldiering, and +presented to the world a face less grim and lowering. He was pointed out +as a smart, well set-up file. + +But beside Private Job Wedgesley, his bunkie, another man in the company +had an eye on Private Spooner. At times, when the soldier did not know +of it, the top-sergeant of the outfit strolled in and noted the calendar +on which the passing of each day was so faithfully recorded, and the +brain of the top-sergeant dedicated itself to cogitation. On the night +of the third, Sergeant Peter Spooner asked and was given permission to +speak privately with his major. + +The tall grave figure with the thoughtful eyes and the chevroned sleeve +was a picture of soldierly deportment, and, as he came into the tent of +Major Henry Falkins and stood respectfully at attention, the battalion +commander looked up, with a pleased smile. + +"I have the captain's permission to speak to the major, sir," announced +the infantry-man. + +Falkins nodded. + +"To-morrow is the Fourth of July, sir." + +"Yes, there is to be a parade in town. Have your men tuck their +shirt-tails in." The major smiled at his little pleasantry. The +mountaineers had long since abandoned their more exaggerated +idiosyncracies. + +"It is concerning Private Newton Spooner, sir, that I want to speak." + +"What about him?" + +The Deacon told his story. He was shrewd enough to tell it with seeming +frankness, even to the point of admitting that on that other day, now a +year ago, he had bound Newt over for twelve months of truce. That period +ended to-morrow. He spoke of the calendar in the private's tent, and +Falkins' face darkened thoughtfully. + +"Don't you imagine he has forgotten that grudge?" questioned the +officer. On the table before him lay an unfinished letter to a girl in +Winchester. He had boasted in a paragraph of which the ink was still +damp that his militia experiment had succeeded. + +"He has not forgotten it, sir. He has not changed it." The Deacon shook +his head with conviction as he spoke. "You're a mountain man yourself, +sir. Did you ever know a mountain hatred to die while the man himself +lived to harbor it? Did you ever make a pet of a rattle-snake?" + +The major was sitting at his camp table, littered with papers and +paraphernalia. A swinging lantern cast its yellow flare on the canvas +flies and his side arms, lying with his discarded blouse on his cot. +Just inside the opening stood the sergeant, seeming rather gigantic +against the black background of the night sky through the triangle of +the raised tent flap. + +"I don't like to admit that." Falkins picked up the pen, and toyed with +it absently. "I'm rather eager to see this boy make good. You are a +mountain man, too. Your record for feud-hatred and homicide was once a +rather full one, yet you came back to the hills, declaring for peace. +Isn't the change in yourself permanent, sergeant?" + +Falkins had made the personal application as an illustration and he made +it smilingly; but the Deacon's face wore for a moment an expression of +deep pain. + +"I hope, sir," he replied respectfully, "that my record speaks for +itself. But I had been living in the outside world. He has known only +the mountains--and prison." + +"And now he knows the army!" The officer spoke eagerly. "The service is +stronger than the individual. It will grip him. If we can arouse his +ambition--" + +"It won't help to make mistakes, sir. To-morrow Private Newton Spooner +becomes a menace to your life. Until midnight to-night you are safe." + +For a while there was silence, then Major Falkins took up his pen again. + +"Sergeant," he said, "to-morrow morning after inspection send Private +Spooner to my tent." + +"Yes, sir." The Deacon saluted, turned with the precision of an +automaton and left the place. + + * * * * * + +Immediately after inspection on the next morning, a private appeared at +the fly on Major Falkins' tent. The private was of course unarmed. His +top-sergeant had seen to that, even though the soldier had +surreptitiously sought to slip a revolver inside his army shirt. + +As Newt Spooner presented himself, Henry Falkins was sitting on the edge +of his cot. He was already in dress-uniform for the parade, and wore +side arms. He glanced up, and nothing in the demeanor of the private +escaped him. + +For Newt stood at the tent-opening, as white as a ghost, and, despite +his lately learned military bearing, there was the hint of a tremor +through his entire body. It was evident that last night had brought +little sleep to the eyes of this man. His hands were tight-clenched at +his trouser seams, and deep back in his eyes burned a fire that was +hardly sane. Yet Major Falkins was in part right. The sinew of the +service is stronger than its atoms, and, as Private Spooner of B Company +waited with clenched teeth, his hand rose automatically, though rigidly, +in the prescribed salute. + +"The first sergeant ordered me to report to ye," he announced in a +queerly strained voice. At the "sir" he balked, but the officer was not +inclined to quarrel over such details. He knew that however insane and +morbid was the fixed idea in the soldier's mind, it was to himself a +thing of ghastly reality. + +"Spooner," said the officer quietly, "for the next ten minutes I waive +all matter of rank. I sent for you to talk to you, not as Private +Spooner of B Company, but as Newt Spooner of Troublesome Creek. To-day +is the Fourth of July." + +The boy took a step forward and his lips showed the teeth under them. + +"I reckon I hain't a-forgettin' thet," he snarled in a half-whisper. "I +reckon thar hain't been a day I hain't a-counted." + +Falkins nodded with disconcerting calmness. + +"Now, Newt," he said shortly, "I am told you have taken a blood-oath +against me. Is that true?" + +"Ef thar's a God in heaven he knows hit's true, an' I warns ye"--the +boy's cheeks flamed with a wild rush of blood to the temples--"I warns +ye that I'm a-goin' ter keep hit. I've done been stopped three times. +Next time all hell hain't a-goin' ter stop me." + +"What's the idea? What's the reason?" + +"I reckon ye knows thet well enough." + +"I know that I testified to facts--true facts, not perjury. I should +have had to do the same thing if it had been my own brother who was on +trial." + +"Like hell ye would!" In the boy's exclamation was supreme scorn and +repudiation of a lying excuse. + +"I'm not going to argue with you and I'm not going to have traitors in +my command. If you remain in my battalion from this point on, it's +because I permit you to do it. I can have you transferred or +bob-tailed. I don't want to do either. You have made a good soldier. I +don't want to ruin you for a personal reason." + +"Do ye reckon," the private's voice broke out like an explosion, "thet +ye kin buy me off with fair talk thet-a-way? Ye couldn't do hit ef ye +made me a major-general." + +Falkins smiled grimly. + +"Why should I buy you off?" he inquired. "Do you imagine I am afraid of +you?" + +He rose abruptly from the cot, and, as his enemy stood twitching +frenziedly in every feature and muscle, unbuckled his belt and tossed it +with its saber and revolver to the table half-way between them. + +"There," curtly announced the commissioned officer, "you are as close to +that gun as I am. Why don't you pick it up?" + +With a snarl like an unleashed wild-cat and a swift noiseless movement, +Private Newt Spooner leaped forward. His eyes were still burning into +the face of his superior and his right hand crept out slowly until its +fingers had caressingly touched and closed around the grip of the +service pistol. + +Then, in a forward-leaning and strained attitude, he paused and stood +statuesquely holding the pose. + +Falkins had put his arms at his back and stepped forward until the two +were directly across the table, then the officer suggested quietly, + +"You'd better hurry. We'll be interrupted." + +For a moment, neither moved nor spoke. The private's breath came and +went in gasps. + +Slowly Newt Spooner shook his head and withdrew his hand from his +weapon. The joy had gone out of his enterprise. His victim had not +suffered any terror or sense of defeat. It was not as he had pictured +it. Whether he shot or did not shoot, Major Henry Falkins would be the +victor of that encounter. He straightened up again, and spoke slowly and +in bitterness: + +"You penitentiaried me--an' ye thought ye had me thar fer life. Now, +when ye've got things fixed jest ter suit ye, ye makes a big play when +ye knows I hain't a-goin' ter take ye up. I hates ye wuss then +pizen--an' I'm a-goin' ter kill ye, but I'm a-goin' ter pick my own time +an' place. Damn ye ter hell! I hain't give up my notion. I'm goin' ter +git ye--but not now." + +"All right." Falkins again buckled on his belt. "When this war is over, +we can settle our affairs. As long as you are in my command, your +military duties come first. Is that agreed?" + +"I hain't makin' no promises. I may git ye in a year. I may git ye in a +month. I'd ruther hev ye jest study erbout thet." + +"Spooner, you are a fool." The officer spoke rather contemptuously. "You +have sworn to two oaths. One is personal; the other is national. You +swore, when you were mustered in, to fight the battles of your country. +Now you are either going to keep that oath, or leave the service. Which +is it to be?" + +"Hit 'pears like thar hain't a-goin' ter be no battles ter fight." + +"All right. Give me your hand that until we are mustered out, or reach +the front, I need not watch you." + +For a long while, the boy from Troublesome stood breathing heavily. To +have his regiment sail away without him, to lose both revenge and +participation in the service which had filled his life with a new +interest, were intolerable. Again he seemed thwarted. + +"Henry Falkins, I'm a-goin' ter git ye. Ye kain't never make no peace +with me--but es long as we stays hyar in camp I gives ye my hand on a +truce. An' ef we gits fightin', maybe I'll wait tell ther war's over." +Into his tone crept the death-note of finality. "But some day I'm +a-goin' ter git ye." + +"That's all," pronounced the major briefly. "Report to your sergeant." + +The boy from Troublesome saluted stiffly and left the tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +It was not until summer waned to autumn and autumn passed into winter +that the order came which slipped the leash and brought a day of +departure. + +The high-landers wore the appearance of veterans now, as they marched +down to the crowded wharves, loaded with their field-equipment, and went +across the gang-plank to the decks of the transport. The mountain men +were still rough of exterior, though very smooth and soldierly to an eye +that had seen them in their "original sin" of heathenish beginnings. + +Lucinda Merton was in San Francisco on the day that the _Indiana_ +sailed. She and perhaps Henry Falkins knew why she had crossed the +continent. As the regiment from bluegrass and mountains filed in their +long lines over the side, she stood on the transport deck with the +colonel and one of his majors and looked on. What things the lovers said +that day, in the moments they stole alone, were their own secrets, but +the girl's eyes and lips were smiling, and the eyes of the young major +were full of light when he slipped into his blouse-pocket a small +leather case--and a photograph. It was to smile at him over many +campfires in the islands. + +Yet, with a teasing laugh and a certain pride of section, the girl +compared the central Kentuckians with the leaner, harder men of the +hills, and announced: + +"Those mountaineers of yours still cry out for the curry-comb, Henry." + +It was the colonel who answered her. He, too, was gazing down with a +smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. The colonel, for all his +Chesterfieldian polish, could judge a horse or man in the raw. + +"They're a shaggy herd," he mused quietly, "exceedingly shaggy and +unkempt. My barbarians, I call them, Lucinda. They are men with the bark +on--but men." He paused, and the smile became a contented grin. "If +there's a chance to baptize them, you'll hear of them again." + + "For it's Tommy this an' Tommy that, an' 'Tommy 'ow's yer soul?' + But it's 'Thin red line of 'eroes' when the drums begin to roll." + + * * * * * + +Then came days of blue wastes and sparkling wake; days of lazy lounging +on swinging decks and under awnings, and at night the phosphor-play of +the Pacific and stars that hung low and softly lustrous. Often Private +Newt Spooner surprised himself, as he leaned with his bare fore-arms +resting on the rail, to find that his thoughts, instead of busying +themselves with war or vengeance, were going strangely back to the added +room of the smoky cabin on Troublesome and the girl who sat before the +fire in the long evenings when the wind wailed through the dead timber. +The logs were blazing there on the hearth he had built for her. + + * * * * * + +One morning the men crowded and jostled at the rail to gaze ahead where +the hunched shoulders of Corregidor Island raised themselves like a +crouching sentinel, at the gate of Manila Bay. + +If the men of the Shirt-tail battalion had feared the dull routine of +garrison duty, they were to be pleasantly disappointed. In those late +January days the impending storm which the Honorable Emilio Aguinaldo +was brewing for the invaders of his "republic" hung imminent on the +horizon of the future. + +The mountaineers went into quarters in the Binondo district of the city, +but more than two score of them were always on the line of outposts +which lay around Manila, resting its left on the salt marshes by the +sea, and its right on the sea again at the end of a six-mile arc. + +The Kentuckians rubbed elbows with a trim and seasoned command of +regulars near the extreme left. To the front beyond the nipa houses and +their palm-fringed gardens, lay unseen the parallel, intrenched lines of +the Insurgents. + +As yet there had been no clash, but each dawn brought expectancy. +Private Newt Spooner, carrying his rifle on sentry duty, often glimpsed +their straw hats and brown faces, above the trench embankments, and +glared across the intervening spaces. Occasionally, too, when +regimental officers rode along the front on inspection of outposts, Newt +saw the figure of his major. Then his embryonic hatred for the brown +men, who lay masked at the back of these palms and rice paddies a few +hundred yards away, passed into total eclipse behind a fiercer emotion. + +One night when not on outpost duty, Newt lay on his cot in the +company-room of the Binondo barracks. The boy was watching the shadows +that wavered on the whitewashed wall, and his face wore a lowering +scowl. Top-Sergeant Peter Spooner glanced at that scowl, and a faint +frown crossed his own features. + +Captain Sparvin of B Company had developed into a fair officer, and in +actual service a wider gulf yawned between the men who held commissions +and those who held warrants than had been the case back in the hills +where the company was born. Yet Sparvin more and more depended on the +Deacon, and more and more left company affairs in his capable hands. The +company's efficiency and deportment were the first sergeant's care. +Charges were preferred or dismissed at Sergeant Spooner's suggestion. +When a "non-com" vacancy occurred, the man suggested by Black Pete was +usually selected to fill it. And to the confidence of the officers was +added a sort of idolatry on the part of the enlisted men. It is quite +likely that had B Company been out on detached service, and had Sergeant +Spooner given a command contradictory to his superior, even after these +months of discipline, B Company would have followed the sergeant. Yet +Sergeant Spooner had his problem, and that problem was his kinsman, +Newt. When Newt scowled in that fashion the top-sergeant was troubled +with apprehension. One crazy man in one crazy moment can do things which +cannot be undone. Yet there was no outward ground for complaint or +charges. In the entire outfit was no more efficient soldier than Newt. +None answered more intelligently or with a snappier quickness to +commands; none kept his kit in more perfect order; none was more +soldierly. The problem was intangible in its outward manifestations, but +the sergeant knew that the boy was "bidin' his time." + +After "taps" the company-room quieted save for snores and heavy +breathing. But Newt, lying quiet on his cot, still staring at the +shadows on the whitewashed wall, was not asleep, and Sergeant Peter +Spooner was not asleep. The tropic night-quiet had settled over the +empty streets of the city, and the footsteps of occasional pedestrians +only emphasized the deep silence. + +Suddenly there came to the ears of the private and the ears of the +sergeant a far-away, but insistent sound, almost a ghost-sound in the +vagueness with which it drifted across the roofs from the north. Yet it +brought them both to their feet, and in an instant both stood together +by the window. Now it was plain enough, and began swelling from a +purring rattle to the crescendo of an approaching wind storm. Somewhere +out there in the far distance was the constant splatter of Mausers like +rain on a tin roof. + +Instantly Sergeant Spooner was arousing B Company and turning them out. +From the streets, too, five minutes ago quiet with a cemetery stillness, +came a confusion of shouting and rushing, punctuated by the sounds of +slamming doors and creaking shutters. Presently the clatter of hoofs and +the brazen signals of bugles gave official notice of immediate action. + +The men of B Company were dressing with the hurry of firemen, and +Sergeant Spooner said quietly: + +"Well, boys, the feud has bust loose." + +Then, almost as suddenly as the clamor of the streets rose, it died +again, and the city lay silent once more except for the distant, +unending roar of musketry. + +At regimental headquarters officers were gathering, and companies were +falling in under the vigorous exhortation of non-coms. Newt Spooner saw +Major Falkins hurry into the room, through whose open door he could see +Private Watson at a telegraph key. The major was buckling his saber-belt +as he went. About the instrument pressed a cluster of battalion and +company officers, crowding eagerly up for news and orders. In a subtle +fashion the news from within floated out and communicated itself to the +lines of men impatiently shuffling their feet in the streets. The +fighting was all along the north front. That was where the Fifth +Kentucky's outposts were stationed. That growing volume of Mauser +argument, with the duller rumble of the Springfields, probably told of +the Kentuckians holding hard against the pressure. Why did not the line +fall into column and move forward? Why did they stand here waiting when +they were needed there? Then came a rumor from the telegraph key that +only two battalions were to go forward, while the third remained in town +with the reserves. + +That report sent a low grumble through the ranks. In the very rattle of +tin-cup on haversack and rifle-butt on cobbles was a note of deep +discontent. Newt could see through the open door the figure of Major +Falkins leaning anxiously over the instrument. Then he saw him turn to +come out with a smile. Brief staccato orders broke from captains and +lieutenants and the Shirt-tailers were swinging down the Calle Lemeri, +with the bluegrass battalion at their backs. The streets gave back +hollow, ghost-like echoes to the rattle of their accouterments and the +quick rhythm of their step. Clearer and noisier to the front rose the +insistent drumming of the fight, and the men from the hills and lowlands +were going at last into action. + +About them were dark streets with jalousies that clicked as anxious +house-holders thrust out startled faces. From other streets they heard +kindred sounds telling of other columns, battalions and regiments, +moving in other currents to the support of their own outposts. The long, +swinging step of the mountaineers carried them swiftly. The bluegrass +men had need to lengthen their stride to hold the pace, and from their +ranks came a low hum of frank and eager excitement, but the +high-landers marched in silence. + +The First Nebraska had borne the brunt of the initial firing, but from +that point it traveled along the whole insurrecto front as forest flames +run in dry leaves, eating its way along a segment of five miles of +trenches. As the battalions drew nearer and the chorus extended, the +night rocked to the solid bellow of musketry, until individual reports +were swallowed and lost in one deep and composite note. + +The Shirt-tail battalion at last left the ordered streets behind and +began its journey through the sparser-peopled environs. They hurried +through villa-adorned suburbs, passing old Spanish mansions. Now +overhead they heard the whine of the Mauser bullets. These messengers +went by with a spiteful song like a whispered shriek: they purred and +whistled like a strangling human throat: they brought to the ear a +ripping noise like the violent tearing of silk. They rattled nastily as +they struck corrugated-iron roofs, and popped when they found billets in +the walls of nipa houses. + +A strange silence sat upon the marching column, or a silence which would +have been strange, with less taciturn men, and they went as though they +were going to mill with grain to be ground. As they were reinforcing +outposts, no advance guard felt its way at the front. The colonel, major +of the second battalion, and part of the staff, all mounted on +Philippine ponies, rode a few paces ahead of the column. The way now +led through scattered houses and straggling gardens, where ragged +palm-fronds waved to the sea-breeze. From some of the windows came wails +of fright as immured house-holders heard the popping of bullets against +their frail habitations. + +Suddenly, above the din of rifle-fire, rose a deep boom, followed by a +rumble like the rail-song of a distant express. Two seconds later came a +loud swish, and two or three of the frail nipa shacks to the left and +rear collapsed as though a ten-pin ball had struck houses of cards. The +column was under artillery fire, and should by all military theories +deploy into open formation, instead of offering a compact target. But +ahead lay an _estero_, or slough, which must be crossed on a bridge. +Beyond that were open fields with rice-dykes and cane--a place of +comparative security not yet attained. + +At the order "double-quick" ringing from the bugles, the column leaped +eagerly forward to a clattering trot, but before they reached the bridge +two more of the loud-throated roars gave warning, and two more of the +solid shot plowed past, to demolish other houses perilously near by. +Henry Falkins looked back to see how his men were standing this initial +test, and smiled, well satisfied. + +Then the bridge was reached and crossed, and the command was spreading +fan-like into open order. Now the bullets were not only giving voice +overhead, but kicking up the dirt near at hand. + +Out there in the darkness, now only a little way distant, lay the sixty +or seventy men of the regimental outpost, who had been sustaining the +onslaught from the trenches for an hour or more. One could mark their +positions from the spitting tongues of their rifles, and as the two +battalions deployed, creeping up, in open order, to reinforce and +relieve them, they fell back nonchalantly, wiping the sweat out of their +eyes, powder-grimed, and making brief comments to their fellows; +comments perhaps mingled with such sense of patronage as men coming out +of their baptism of fire may have for those just going in. Then, with +business-like quiet, the battalions worked forward and lay down in the +trenches, which had merely been a guard-line for weeks. + +"Falkins," said Colonel Burford, as the two went along the regiment's +length, "there's no use wasting ammunition shooting at a sky line. Those +fellows over there are barely sticking their scalp locks over the +trenches. They are merely peppering the night." + +The major nodded, then with a grin suggested: + +"Colonel, those boys have been under their first strain. They'll rest +easier if they can shoot a few volleys--and it won't burn much powder." + +So, the two battalions, as a matter of indulgence, were permitted to +contribute a salute of challenge, and then, as the bugler sounded "cease +firing," they were ordered to dispose themselves as well as they could +in the trenches and behind the rice-dykes, and rest until morning. + +Thus they spent their first night in the field with the unending, but +comparatively harmless, roar from the north as a clangorous lullaby, and +the tropic starlight in their faces, and the breeze which whispered +gently across the salt marshes from the sea fanning their foreheads. + +When the dawn broke with tropical suddenness like the ringing up of a +quick curtain, the theater of last night's drama stood revealed. With +daylight came a slackening of the night-long Insurgent thunder, which +slowly dropped away to desultory firing, and then to complete quiet. Off +to the left of the line, where the Kentuckians had lain, stretched the +broken wastes of the salt marshes, with here and there in the distance +blue glimpses of the sea. But directly ahead, where all night the +trenches had been barking and vomiting, the landscape was naked of +visible life. The rice-fields went off for a short distance, broken only +by their dykes, and farther away rose a dense screen of bamboo and +woodland, a solid mass of green, from which waved a ragged top of +shredded palms. + +As the men crouched over their hard-tack and coffee, they were thinking +of the day's work, which they hoped would include passing beyond that +screen and those trenches. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +During the night a siege-gun had been brought up by hand, and now, from +its place where the road cut through the entrenchments, it opened with +the morning greeting of a hoarse bark, as the crew serving it began +feeling over the landscape for the field-piece which had boomed so +insistently last night. + +Then, as the morning wore on, and orders to advance came, the slow +rifle-firing began again and increased in volume as the sun climbed. + +The night-long rain of random lead had taken its toll in a few wounded, +though none had sustained mortal hurt. Two or three men from B Company +came back to the front from the improvised dressing-station at the rear, +wearing reddened bandages, which they displayed with the cocky pride of +medals, as they picked up their pieces and joined again in the game. + +The masking woods told nothing of the trenches beyond except in the +swish of Mauser bullets, which shredded drooping palm fronds into +tatters. Newt Spooner was squatting on his haunches in the trench, with +a pipe between his teeth. Every now and then he came to his knees and +fired a shot. At his side knelt Jim Dodeman, who until he joined the +militia had never fared twenty miles from the cabin on Troublesome +where he had been born. Jimmy was bored with the ennui of shooting at a +screen of palm trees and crouching between times in a hot ditch. So, at +last, he rose for a fuller view and to stretch the cramp from his limbs. +He rose silently and as silently lay down again, but this time he lay +flat, and, when a pause in proceedings gave Newt leisure to relight his +pipe, he looked down to recognize in Jimmy's posture the dummy-like +quality of death. The little muddy spot under the soldier's temple was +fed by blood trickling from his brain. + +First-Sergeant Peter Spooner had been going back and forth along the +company line, curbing the inclination of its restive integers to +over-spend cartridges in futile bickering. He stopped and turned the +prostrate figure face up, and for a moment looked into the dulled eyes. + +"Dead," commented the sergeant briefly. + +Newt nodded. + +"Them damned Falkinses got him," he said over his shoulder. Then, +remembering that he had swapped enemies, he grinned, and corrected +himself: "I mean them other varmints." + +At noon, a brigade staff-officer brought instructions. The whole line +was to be advanced five hundred yards to a new position where the woods +would no longer screen the enemy, and it was there to dig trenches along +a roadway, which paralleled the present front. + +That news sent a drone of excited pleasure through the bluegrass +companies, and even into the phlegmatic stoicism of the Shirt-tail +battalion crept the suppressed expectation of the first charge. Major +Falkins went along the line for final instructions to company +commanders, and First Sergeant Spooner cast down his company front the +anxious glance of a stage-director who awaits the curtain call, on a +first night. + +But the two platoons seemed steady enough as they rose from the trenches +in extended order, and waited for the word that should launch them +forward. + +Then a bugle rang, and the entire two battalions started silently and +stolidly onward. In a few minutes the silence would be broken--from the +front. On to the screen of the woods they went at a rapid quickstep, and +through the foliage they broke into view, like circus riders through +paper hoops. As they emerged into the open rice-fields, and could see +the straw hats at the top of the trenches four hundred yards to the +north, the stillness was ripped in one wild roar of musketry, and their +terrific welcome had begun. Its echoes rolled away in waves of sound +that merged with fresh outburstings, and nearer at hand, in weird +shrieks, piercing the louder detonations, whimpered the lost-soul wail +of the Mauser bullets. As the straw hats bobbed hysterically up and +disappeared again, the men of the two battalions began stumbling and +lying grotesquely down in the rice-fields. + +They reached the road, which the brigade order said was to be their +resting place. But neither brigade nor division orders can keep men +alive in a place where the physical topography forbids. The road ran at +the right and left in a sunken band between banks two or three feet +high, affording--to east and west--a natural protection; but for the +length of several furlongs it elected to rise and proceed in a level +flush with the rice-fields and gave to even the closest-lying and most +prostrate figures pitiless conspicuousness as targets. On each side, the +troops were at work, improving their cover, and for their work they had +partial security; but the Kentuckians were left mercilessly exposed. +They were firing desperately at the solid earth ahead and receiving in +response a death-hail which they could not for many minutes endure. + +Sergeant Peter Spooner, running in a crouching attitude, dropping, +rising, his rifle barking, was doing all that mortal being could do to +make moles of his men and burrow them into the earth. The situation was +intolerable. The Shirt-tail battalion and the bluegrass battalion stood +in peril of decimation in their maiden engagement. + +Newt Spooner lay stretched behind a mound of earth some seven inches +high. He lay spraddled and flattened like a large drab lizard, hugging +the earth with his feet stretched apart, and even his heels held tight +to the clay. At each report of his piece Private Spooner opened the +block and blew through the breech, as a trap-shooter blows the powder +out of a shot-gun. Private Spooner's face was sweating with exertion, +and the dust turned to mud as it gathered on his chin and jaws. + +Behind similarly insufficient mounds, or no mounds at all, several +hundred other privates were similarly employed. At the front rose a +dense fog of fleecy white, for the volunteers had not yet been afforded +the luxury of smokeless powder. Ever and anon a man rose on one elbow +and strained his eyes in a vain effort to penetrate the pale smoke, and +as the hour-like minutes wore on, more and more of them rolled quietly +over and relinquished their rifles and stared up out of eyes which the +hot glare had ceased to trouble. + +Orders are orders, and the line was commanded to remain here, but Major +Falkins knew that his section of it must move forward, or fall back and +leave the line broken. The colonel was at the regimental center where +the line lapped on the deeper banks. Falkins, with a scarlet thread down +his face where death had brushed him in passing, found the commanding +officer. + +"I can't stay where I am," he shouted; "I must go forward." + +"Go," acquiesced the "C. O." crisply. "And go like hell!" + +At the returning major's elbow pressed the battalion's trumpeter, and, +at the signal of a nod, he set the bugle to his lips and blew, "Cease +firing!" It was the command for which he had been fretting. The brazen +message went only a little way along the noisy line, but it was relayed +by word of mouth; and, as the firing fell away, the second command +clamored upon the first. "Fix bayonets!" + +Those notes were magic. They stood for the wild dash and close quarters +and hand-to-hand punishment. They promised vengeance for the men who had +fallen asleep. Down the front ran the ominous metallic click of engaging +hilt and muzzle, and, as the pall of smoke began to rise, the line came +shouting to its feet and set its eyes hungrily on the yellow stripe that +marked the top of the earth-works. They stood, a moment, exposed as the +command of "forward" flexed their taut nerves. There were three hundred +yards between them and their goal, and these three hundred were +annoyingly and maddeningly broken with fences and gullies, but now they +were free to fire at will, which meant as fast as they could load. Also, +as they advanced, they left behind their own blinding curtain of powder +fog. And these men from the hills, shooting now at a point-blank range +to which they were accustomed: a range at which every man was a +sharp-shooter, combed and harried the yellow earthen band ahead of them +with so galling and stinging and venomous a punishment that the straw +hats drew down like turtle heads into shells, and the Mauser bullets, +fired at random, went wilder and higher. + +It was not easy work, though much easier than lying prone and being shot +to pieces. Even with random marksmanship and growing panic, the brown +men were still sheltered, and many shots went home. Newt, clambering +over a fence, saw at his shoulder a boy who used to sit at his side on +the split-log bench at school. He saw the boy loosen his hold on the +same fence and roll over and over in the rice-stubble, clawing at his +breast, while his lips snarled and swore. + +Then, sixty yards from the yellow rim of the trenches, the bugle rang +out its most blood-quickening call, and, in answer, the line trembled +and leaped forward, and mountain reticence broke at last in one +prolonged mountain yell of fury and loosened passion. + +And, as that barbaric howl of impending doom smote upon the ears of the +Filipinos in their ordered trenches, they read in it a cue for swift +exit, and their white-clad bodies began clambering out of the +rifle-pits, and their brown legs began twinkling through the rice-fields +behind. + +The Kentuckians redoubled their pace. It was intolerable that the men +whom they had left strewn along the rice-paddies should go unavenged. +Yet, when they clambered across the trench fronts, it was to find them +empty, save for those who lay dead. + +For a moment, the victors halted, winded and almost exhausted at the +trenches they had carried. Companies were as hopelessly jumbled and +mixed as a galley of type that a compositor has dropped downstairs. + +Private Newt Spooner and perhaps enough men to make a half-platoon, +after a few moments of gasping and sweat-wiping, rose up and started on +in the trail of the fleeing insurgents. + +"Hold on there!" bellowed Sergeant Peter Spooner, for once losing his +composure in a volley of profanity. "Where the hell do you think you're +goin' to?" + +"We're goin' atter 'em!" shrieked back Private Newton Spooner. "Come on, +boys--we kin git 'em." + +Major Falkins had seen the trouble and rushed up, his face steaming, but +triumphant. + +"Get back, damn you!" he ordered. "Get back to those trenches." He had +neither time nor inclination to explain why pursuit was denied. Such +matters as preserving division alignment were of no interest to these +men. + +For a moment, Newt Spooner hesitated, surveying his battalion commander +with an insolent contempt, then he turned to the other restive privates. + +"Come on, boys!" he yelled. "Don't suffer them niggers ter git away." + +The major and his sergeant acted promptly. With the flat of sword and +clubbed musket, they beat back the mutinous and excited men, and, after +one blood-mad moment, all except Newt turned readily enough with +shamefaced grins. + +But, in the momentary flail-like wielding of his saber-blade, Henry +Falkins had struck Newton Spooner one light blow, and straightway the +boy forgot any war between the United States and Aguinaldo; and +remembered only the old war between himself and the man who had sent him +to prison. He slipped a cartridge into his breech and would have settled +the score at the moment. + +But, in that same moment, Sergeant Peter Spooner caught his hand, and +whispered in his ear. + +"Obey orders, damn you! This ain't your only chance. This ain't no +private quarrel." + +No one else had seen that look, or in the larger excitement read its +significance, and, even while Sergeant Spooner held Private Spooner's +steaming wrist, and their faces bent close together, sweat-wet and +dirt-stained, a new roar awoke two hundred yards to their left, to seize +their attention. The windows and doors of the old Spanish church, that +stood with a crooked cross tottering over its stained stucco walls, was +belching fire upon them. There was no time to form company or platoon +now, or to sort men into their rightful commands. Major Falkins waved +his saber and led the way at a run toward the offending walls, and +Sergeant Spooner at his heels was herding the group forward at pell-mell +speed, their rifles blazing and barking as they went. + +A few of them did not reach the place, but enough did, and, as they came +to the front, spreading and dividing to prevent possible escape from +other entrances, the doors opened, and the over-venturesome refugees +rushed out in a pelting tide of effort to fight their way to freedom by +a sortie. Then the wrath of the mountaineers was appeased, and those of +the enemy who did not remain for burial went back as prisoners. + +As Henry Falkins hurried back to his command, Private Newt Spooner +followed close at his heels and this time his rifle swung at his side. +Its bayonet bore some stains which he wiped off as he walked. At the +trenches, the bugle was sounding assembly. Across the face of the +country, wisps and attenuated clouds of smoke were wreathing their way +up and melting in the blue. From the rice-paddies and dykes rose +wavering mists of heat. + +The Kentucky hillsmen, now reformed into column, were going back to +their fellows. They alone had had the capping triumph of crossing the +earth-works and effecting the hand-to-hand dislodgment of the enemy. So +they went back with a jaunty tread, and they paused before starting +across that four hundred yards where they should be watched as returning +victors, to pull out their shirt-tails. Marching in that style, they +would not have to declare their identity. + +To Henry Falkins they suggested, as the skirts of their flannel shirts +flapped around their legs like kilts, those far-off ancestors of the +Scotch highlands whose blood flowed unamalgamated in their veins. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +That inflexible grip which the service takes upon its units and +fractions of units, had slowly and unconsciously altered the view-point +of The Fifth Kentucky foot. Back there in the stagnant riffle of a life +which for a century had not taken a forward step, their motto had been, +"Let us alone," and every man had been a law to himself; despot over his +own affairs and the affairs of his family. Now, because they obeyed in a +common cause and of their own volition, obedience no longer irked them, +and they had come to think of themselves less as individuals than as +bricks mortared together in a military arch. + +The second day after the outbreak of insurrection passed with no greater +excitement than occasional and desultory firing from the front. Night +fell with utter quiet as though both armies were exhausted and ready for +sleep. The stars overhead were bright and close, and the men, sprawling +on the earth, were thinking softened thoughts, or crouching around +campfires in rehearsal of recent events. + +Near the spot where Newt Spooner lay stretched on his blanket, a +bearded, gaunt man, with a sprinkling of gray in his beard, was writing +a letter home. It was Uncle Jerry Belmear, whose forge and smithy stood +at the forks of Squabble Creek. The yellow flare from a shaded lantern +fell in sharp high lights on his lean cheekbones and on the cramped +hand, laboriously pushing its pencil. His lips moved, automatically +spelling out the words of difficult composition. Newt was watching him +with the reflection that there was nowhere anyone to whom he himself +could send a thrill of pleasure with a letter. Then, since strange +influences were working in the boy's starved heart, he wondered if, +after all, "Clem's gal" might not be glad to hear from him. Minerva was +"eddicated," and in her head were cogitations which he could never hope +to comprehend. She took medals for "larnin'"--he ground his teeth as he +thought from whose hand she had taken one. He was ignorant and +"pizen-mean." The contrast was obvious. Yet, she had looked at him with +a friendly glance, and had been grateful for his championship. + +But these idle thoughts were violently interrupted by a sudden staccato +outburst and the darting of Mauser tongues through the dark. Recumbent +figures came to their feet. Uncle Jerry Belmear rose with the +half-finished letter in his hand, and as he stood up he was struck. Had +the same man been wounded in a charge or lying in his trench, he would +have fallen silently, but that messenger out of the night, coming when +his thoughts were all back in the silent Cumberlands, startled him into +outcry. He wheeled, and from his lips broke a sound that started as an +oath and ended in a weird shriek, heard along the whole battalion +front. + +As though they had wanted only that cue, the battalion, hitherto patient +to await orders, sprang to the trenches and began pumping their +Springfields frantically into the night. Buglers were madly blowing +"Cease firing"; officers and sergeants were carrying profanity and +strong language the length of the line, but the panic spirit had to +spend itself before the men heard or obeyed--and realized with chagrin +that stray bullets had upset them. + +But that mild disgrace of showing nerves, instead of nerve, must be +lived down, and it served to put the newly made veterans the more on +their mettle. + +Almost every day that followed brought its clash with the enemy, and +once or twice the Shirt-tailers came into hand-to-hand struggles, where +it was bayonet and butt, and "fist and skull," and where their barbaric +yell drowned the bugles. They grew accustomed to the thunderous roar +with which the cruisers in the harbor shelled the Insurgent positions in +preparation for their advance, and so day by day, and step by step, the +still parallel lines of the brown men gave back, and those of the +American force hitched forward. + +And in these, by no means idle days, the word went abroad among them +that they were only waiting here to be relieved by fresh troops from the +States, and were to be a part of the force designated to push on to the +Insurgent capital. + +But the rumor went ahead of the actuality. Sometimes there were days of +quiet and even brief informal truces at certain sections of the front, +when the open rice-fields became a common playground. Then the straw +hats that had heretofore bobbed up only to fire and bob down again, +moved about in the open, and watched the _Americanos_ playing baseball. +Once a band came out from Manila, and, when the heat of the day was +spent, gave a concert in the rice-fields, and at its end, as the +national air swelled out and the troops from home stood at attention and +uncovered, the straw hats across the open fields were also doffed. +Though he did not quite understand why, that incident caused a strange +and new emotion to pulse through the arteries of Private Newton Spooner; +an emotion in no way kin to the "pizen-meanness" for which he was justly +notorious. But the courteous enemy never allowed these pleasant recesses +to endure long, and after a lesson or two in treachery they ended. + +At last came the forward movement, the rush into native towns across +their defenses, the pursuit of fleeing insurgents, and the glare in the +sky as the nipa houses went up in flame; and the lying down at night in +bivouac under the stars. In due course followed the end of state-troop +days and the organization of new regiments of United States volunteers. +Yet, this was more a change in the technical than the real, for while +the Fifth Kentucky ceased to exist and the Shirt-tail battalion was no +more, most of the men who had comprised the command were again together +in the Twenty-sixth Volunteers, and the men from the hills still +followed Major Henry Falkins. + + * * * * * + +Young Manly Fulton had returned to Louisville with a degree from Harvard +University and an ambition to become a journalist. At the newspaper +office where he was carried exceedingly near the bottom of the pay-roll, +he was classed as a cub whose value no one took seriously save himself. +In the course of time, it entered the mind of young Fulton that a visit +to the schools and "colleges" of the Cumberlands would make a +"feature-story" of general interest. He heard of young people, and older +people, too, who were struggling to shake off the bonds of a century-old +illiteracy, so he confided to his Sunday editor that herein lay, ready +to hand, a subject with genuine "heart-interest." The Sunday editor +laughed, and explained that this story had been often written, but, if +the reporter wished to ring one more change on an old theme, he might +go--at his own expense. So the young man went to Jackson, and from +Jackson, with mule and saddle-bags, to the college on Fist-fight Creek. +As the principal was showing him over the place, a girl passed through +the library, and the "furriner" was presented. + +The girl looked unwaveringly into his eyes as the professor smilingly +said, "This is Miss Minerva Rawlins; one of our native-born. We are +rather proud of Miss Rawlins." Manly Fulton looked back at her, and his +clean-cut young face for some reason flushed. He had heard much of the +slatternly women of the hills, women who bore drudgery and children, and +early became hags. Now, he found himself being put at ease by a young +creature who carried herself like a goddess, and whose eyes shielded, +behind a naive reserve, the truant impulse to twinkle into amusement at +his evident confusion. + +Later, the head of the faculty suggested: + +"If you want to see and appreciate the full contrast between the +school-life and home-life of these people, persuade Miss Rawlins to play +guide for you along Troublesome. To-morrow is Saturday, and she will be +riding home. Why don't you ride with her?" + +So, when "Clem's gal" started across the mountains, the young man rode +at her side, listening eagerly to the new point of view that her speech +developed, and marveling at the life he saw about him; a life in which +he seemed to have stepped back a century. It was all wonderful, for +spring had come to the hills and kissed them, and they were smiling with +a smile of blossom and young leaf, and whispering with soft breezes and +the singing of crystal waters. + +For a time, her conversation was, "Yes, sir," and, "No, sir"; for, +though at first it had been himself who was embarrassed, it was now she, +and so, until she discovered how boyish and frank he was, she eyed him +with shy and sidelong glances. But, at last, she began to reveal a +flower-like personality which was altogether charming, strangely +blended with a gravely mature point of view. Her language, partly the +hard-conned "proper speaking" of the school, and partly idiom, amused +him with its quaint out-cropping of Elizabethan phrases, which fell in +tripping unconsciousness from her lips. + +When near sundown they came to her cabin, he felt the girl's embarrassed +eyes on him as her father invited him "to light an' stay all night." And +at table, though his stomach revolted against the greasy and uninviting +fare, he knew that, as she served him standing, her eyes were fixed upon +him. He caught the high-chinned courage of her unapologetic loyalty, +even to swinish blood, and gamely bolted his food with mock relish. + +"God!" thought the boy, as he vainly tried to sleep that night in the +swelter of the over-crowded cabin. "What a life it must be for her! And +yet," he added, "what escape is there?" + +The next day, she took him rambling along creek-beds where she had +friends among the early flowers and ferns and budding things and the +feathered and singing things. She was in an unusually light and gay +mood, and chattered until he felt that he was in an enchanted forest, +and through her talk, which was all of birds and blossoms and woodland +mysteries, he caught brief flashes of insight into herself. + +"Do you know," he suddenly demanded, looking up from a mossy place where +he was gathering violets, "that you are a rather wonderful sort of +person?" + +She stood over him, slender, and simply garbed in a blue calico dress +and a blue calico sun-bonnet. Into her belt she had thrust a cluster of +violets, and her eyes, which were closely akin to their petals, grew +suddenly serious. The corners of her lips drooped in wistfulness. + +"Am I?" she questioned gravely. It was the nearest thing to a compliment +that had come her way. + +"Yes," he asserted, rising to his feet. "Anywhere else in the world +people would be wild about you, and here whom do you see? You know the +verses, 'full many a flower was born to blush unseen.' Don't be one of +them." + +"How am I going to help it?" she asked him simply. He did not respond, +because he was asking himself the same question. But, when that only +visitor from the outside world had ridden away, the place seemed rather +empty and desolate to the girl, and she sat alone in the spring woods +while some voice insistently queried, "How can you help yourself?" She +would marry no man who was ashamed of her people, even if such a man +should come to woo her, and no man whom she would care to marry could +well escape being ashamed of her people. Only one man had she ever known +who seemed to feel for her a sort of reverence; to look up to her as +superior to himself. That man had been very rough and wolfish in his +championship--and that man had been a felon! + +If some man might come who felt that way, and yet who had a living and +enlightened soul; if such a man should say, "I love you--" + +"Clem's gal" bent forward and pressed her fingers against her temples. +"Oh, God!" she whispered. + + * * * * * + +Long ago Malolas had been taken, and the armies of Emilio Aguinaldo were +giving back. Soon was to come the second and longer phase of the +insurrection: that of the guerilla days. But as yet there were still +occasions of battle. + +The enemy lay one day with his trench-tops commanding a steep river-bank +and a deep, swiftly-flowing current of tawny water, adding defense to +his front. Half-way across this stream the broken abutments and twisted +girders of a dynamited railroad bridge showed his preparations for +attack. Yet both river and trenches must be crossed, and the 26th +Volunteers had come, among others, to do it. A small mortar was merrily +tossing shells across the way, but they fell on roofs devised of the +rails from the uptorn track, and fell for the most part harmless. One +small section of the earth-works was unroofed, and from it the mortar +had driven the Insurgents. That troubled the enemy only because it was +the one loop-holed portion of the defenses and consequently more +healthful for riflemen. + +A few strong swimmers might carry a rope across, thought Major Falkins, +and attach its loose end to the bamboo stakes which went up at the very +edge of the trench-embankments, provided they could live long enough. +Killing is quicker work than swimming in a strong current. But, if three +started and one arrived, his fellows could follow in the few leaky +barges that were available. These barges could cross, if at all, only by +rope-ferry. The current set its veto on any use of oars. For such +character of work a "suicide squad" is asked to nominate itself, and +among those who responded was Corporal Newton Spooner, formerly Private +Newton Spooner of the Shirt-tailers, and before that, No. 813 at +Frankfort. + +As the boy stripped off his khaki and stood naked behind a screening +tangle of riverside growth, several machine-guns and the musketry of the +regiment were preparing to give him at least a noisy end. + +Major Falkins stood by, coaching the three swimmers as a trainer coaches +his jockey when the saddling bugle sounds in the paddock. + +"Watch the rope," commanded the major briefly. "Swim in single file, and +not too close together." He turned to Newt, who happened to be standing +nearest him. + +"It's going to be mean work, Spooner," he said in a low voice; "I hate +to order it." + +Corporal Spooner saluted, but his eyes narrowed and glittered with a +light venomously serpent-like. + +"I reckon," he said in a guardedly low voice, which only the major +heard, "you'd like to see me peg out, wouldn't you? But I ain't goin' to +do it. I'm goin' to live long enough to finish a job I've got to attend +to yet. I reckon you know what it is." + +Then he slipped without a splash into the water, for he was to lead the +little procession. The major raised his hand in signal, and the +spattering roar became a solid thunder. Rapid-fire guns, mortar and +Krags played on the earth-works. Every Shirt-tailer was sighting as +though for a sharp-shooter's medal--carefully, deliberately. A scathe of +lead raked the trench tops, under which every brown head went down and +stayed cautiously invisible. With strong, sure strokes the three naked +men shot out into the stream and past its center--seemingly unobserved. +It began to look as though they would gain the other side unseen by the +enemy. But suddenly, from the loop-holed section, came spiteful little +squirts of fire. Against that fire only the mortar could cope--and the +mortar had turned its attention elsewhere. Tiny geysers kicked +themselves up where the Mauser bullets struck and skipped on the water. +The roar from the Shirt-tailers rose in louder indignation, and the crew +serving the mortar was feverishly refinding the range. A few more +strokes, and the three men fighting the current would be safe in the lee +of the steep bank--but the little geysers were multiplying. The third +man suddenly turned his face backward over his shoulder, and shook his +head. He raised a hand as one who waves farewell at a railroad station, +and went down. Corporal Spooner and the other man were reaching out to +grasp the projecting roots that fringed the opposite shore, but, as the +second man crawled up on the bank, there appeared on his naked flesh a +constantly spreading splotch of crimson. Corporal Spooner paused to drag +him under cover, then proceeded to tie the rope and--safe, because of +his very proximity--sat down, panting, to wait. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Two general officers were eye-witnesses to that river crossing; they +chatted about it over the cable with the government at Washington. Major +Falkins, too, who had conceived the plan and crossed in the first barge, +before the mortar got the exact range of the loop-holed breast-works, +was also mentioned in these despatches. Later, both the major and +corporal were given the Medal of Honor, and Newt became Sergeant +Spooner, whereat the Deacon, now battalion sergeant-major, patted him +approvingly on the back. But fate sometimes indulges in satiric +contrasts. One afternoon, when the rush on a trench was over, and had +been so mild an affair that the men felt like a fire company turning out +to a false alarm, the last straggling volley from the routed enemy +dropped both the major and the new sergeant in the stubble. + +Newt's hurt was a shattered arm, but the superior officer had an ugly +hole torn through one lung, over which the field surgeons shook their +heads and whispered things about grave complications. Both were jolted +back in wagons to the railroad. + +Sergeant Spooner knew that his trouble was simply a matter of hospital +inactivity and waiting, but in Manila, as in the field, surgeons talked +anxiously about the battalion chief. Every day an orderly from division +headquarters clattered up to the hospital to inquire after his health, +and the ladies who had followed their soldier husbands as far as Manila +sent flowers. It was finally decided that Major Falkins could only +complete his recovery, if at all, in a more temperate climate, and so he +was invalided back to the States. Newton did not know he was gone until +the transport had sailed, and, when a hospital orderly brought the news, +he said nothing, though his face set itself as he gazed at the whitewash +of the ward wall, and sniffed the antiseptic odor of carbolic acid. + +There were days of convalescence when with his arm in a splint the +mountain boy wandered about the town, which he had, until now, had so +little opportunity to investigate. Each day he would stroll to the north +bank of the Pasig River, where it cut the city in half, and wander among +the strange many-colored sights and pungent reeks of the Chinese bazaars +in the _Escolta_. If these explorations brought him any sense of +wonderment or interest, it was denied expression in his brooding eyes. +Sometimes he would cross the ancient stone bridge, and wander at random +into the walled Plaza de Manila, which had been the town of three +hundred years ago. Late afternoon usually found him on the _paseo_ along +the bay, and there, with the tepid water heaving drowsily at his front, +he would lean until darkness fell, thinking of two things. Somehow, the +face of "Clem's gal" rose often and insistently into his reflections, +and the set of his jaw slackened almost to a smile. Then the thought of +his old grudge would come, and the jaw muscles would stiffen again, +crowding out the softness. + +The grip of the service was strong upon him, and he could salute his +superior without a wince, and stand as respectfully at attention as any +other of his comrades; but he knew that this was only because he had +learned to dissociate the personal self from the military self. His +hatred and the resolve born of it were undying. Generations of Spooners +had made a virtue of hating until it coursed as an instinct with their +blood. He knew now that simply to kill Henry Falkins would be no revenge +at all. True punishment must involve the torture of dread, and for the +major death would fail to attain that purpose. He must, therefore, +devise something more exquisitely painful, and now, having leisure for +reflection, he let his mind run on ways and means. + +The Islands are not a good place for one to brood upon a fixed idea. On +every transport he saw men, backward-bound, whose faces wore the imprint +of melancholia and morbid derangements; men who were climate-mad. + +Yet, the sergeant had another idea at the back of his head to which he +never referred, and while he was waiting to be sent back to his regiment +he might often have been seen sitting on one of the paseo benches, deep +in the study of a spelling book, or arithmetic. + +While these things were going on in Luzon, Henry Falkins was fast coming +back to health. This was natural enough, for each morning the breeze +stirred the chintz curtains of his window in the old mansion near +Winchester, and the breeze was freighted with the heavy sweetness of +honey-suckle. Each morning as he came down to breakfast, he would meet +on the old colonial stairway a girl whose eyes sometimes danced +mischievously and sometimes deepened into sweet serenity. Then in the +dining-room, where Jouett portraits of men in blue and buff gazed down, +this girl would pour his coffee from the old silver pot that these same +ancestors had brought out of Virginia. And the colonel would fall +pleasantly into reminiscences of days when he, too, wore a uniform, +though it was gray, and rode with Morgan's men. + +But there was a better medicine than that for Henry Falkins: the +medicine of joy. Sundry preparations were going forward in the house. +Dress-makers were working like beavers, because when the major had +recovered sufficiently to return to the Philippines, he was not going +alone. There was to be a wedding in the meantime. The girl had been down +to "Bloody Breathitt," and stood with him on a high place in the hills. +She had breathed deep with appreciative delight as she gazed off beyond +the crests of their wooded slopes, where the patriarchal pines and oaks +stood sentinel over the valleys. And there she had ridden the trails +tirelessly, and the rude mountain folk had treated her like a young +queen come from another land, because, with her sesame of graciousness, +she had won her way into the sealed reserve of their hearts. + +Together, the two had gathered the blossoms from the rhododendron, and +down in shaded recesses where the waters whispered over mossy rocks and +the elder-fringed forests closed in until only slender threads of +sunshine filtered through, they had gathered ferns and been children +together. + +At last came the day when they knelt down and rose together from +cushions before an improvised altar in the wide hall, and the colonel +led them all to the wainscoted dining-room. There, in a vintage that had +lain for a generation in the cobwebbed sleep of the cellar, both the old +man from the mountains and the old man from the bluegrass toasted +them--"Even if," as the colonel chortled, "the youngster is a Yankee +soldier." + +When the journey across the continent ended, they had lazy days at sea. +As Henry Falkins gazed at his wife, panama-hatted, white-clad, with the +Pacific winds stirring the one curl that, in persistent truancy, escaped +its confinement to trail across one eye, he wondered if she were really +not too delectable a vision to be real. And his brother officers seemed +to think so, too, so that she reigned on the quarter-deck. + + * * * * * + +But, if the testimony of so astute an observer as General Sherman is to +be accepted, war is not unbroken honeymoon, and in the Islands in 1900 +the general's monosyllabic descriptive was more applicable. At least, +that was true in certain provinces, where the orders of _El Presidente_ +were being carried into effect with ardor and pertinacity. Those orders +were to disperse, live outwardly as _Americanistas_, and under the +semblance of peace to harry, sting and annoy the army of occupation. The +seventy thousand troops now in the Islands were no longer marching and +bivouacking as armies, but, "split in a thousand detachments," were +scattered into garrisons from the China Sea to the Pacific. + +Over beyond the mountains and across the level plantation lands of Nueva +Ecija lay a town from whose center radiated many meager _barrios_ and +villages. It was a town with a small stone church, from whose teetering +cross one arm had been shot away. + +That church had a line of graves--inside its walls, with stones +identically alike--and a history. Here, for almost a solid year, a +garrison numbering at the outset fifty Spanish soldiers had held out +with heroism against a swarming horde of Insurgents equipped with +artillery. The town bore many _recuerdos_ of that long and dogged fight. +The walls of the church showed them in disfiguring scars, like those on +the face of a man who has been mercilessly pitted by small-pox. The +ruins of nipa houses showed them in fallen roof-trees and gaping +breeches. The even ranks of gravestones, within the walls, bore eloquent +testimony in successive dates of death. + +In long, underscoring lines of brutally strong trenches and +transverses, went still more of the record. How snugly and safely the +besiegers had burrowed into the ground, and swept and whipped the +starving garrison inside, was easy to read. + +It was in this town with its church that Henry Falkins with his +battalion was ordered to "wait in heavy harness, on fluttered folk and +wild." The way thither lay over a hundred miles of plain and mountain, +and in that hundred miles, under the extremely capable eyes of Lacuna +and Paolo Tecson, the brown hornets were buzzing with extraordinary and +tireless stinging power. + +The battalion would make the march with a mule train and an escort of +two extra companies, and when it was ensconced in the village which the +war-scarred church dominated, the escort would say farewell and return +to Manila. The extra companies would be picked up for the homeward +journey by a cruiser, which would meantime have steamed with supplies +around the north end of Luzon, through Batingtang Channel, and down the +Pacific coast. After that, from time to time other ships would come and +bring old mail, and look in to see that the garrison was still there and +on the job. It was not a place to take a bride, even though the bride +had crossed the Pacific to be with her husband and held determined views +on the subject of being left behind in her rooms at the Orient. + +Possibly, Henry Falkins told her, she could follow later by sea. + +For three days, the command, with its train of fifty mules pushed on +through a level country, well watered, and seemingly uninhabited. On the +fourth, it struck the mountains, and from that point crawled, scrambled +and panted. Up slopes steep and slippery with untrodden grass, where +hoofs and feet shot treacherously out, the column crept, until the mules +balked, and their burdens had to be transferred to human shoulders; a +half-dozen pack animals shot over cliff edges, and burst like balloons +in rocky gorges below. + +Then, descending into a valley where the grass grew long and lush along +the waterways, and lay brownly parched a little distance back, the +column readjusted its impedimenta, and mended its pace. Sometimes the +heat over the grass simmered in misty waves, and the marching men +clamped their unshaven jaws, and set their eyes eastward. The eyes were +growing blue-circled and weary, and the infantrymen picked up each foot +with a sense of distinct and separate effort. Sometimes from the long +grass at the side broke an unwarned din of rifle-fire, as the "point" +ran into an ambuscade, and then the column closed up and in the merry +response of volleys for the moment forgot its weariness. Sometimes the +parched grass, kindled by unseen and hostile hands, burst into scorching +sheets of flame at the front, necessitating tedious detours. In this +fashion, at the end of ten days, they came to the town with the church, +and found the cruiser awaiting them. The escort returned at once, and +left the First Battalion of the 26th Regiment, United States +Volunteers, to attend to its knitting, with the Pacific Ocean in front +of it and the ragged mountains at its back. + +There was much to be done, for not all of the command was to stay there. +In near-by towns smaller detachments under company officers were to +establish themselves and put the fear of God and the Eagle into +rebellious hearts. That these outlying factions might not be cut off +from headquarters, nerves of telegraph wires must be strung across the +hills and through the _bijuca_ tangles of the _bosque_. These lines +must, in places, follow bolo-cut tunnels through the jungle where the +air was hot and fetid; where one fought for breath and was blinded by +the streaming sweat, and where the stiffness of one's spine oozed out in +flaccid weariness. Also, it proved immensely diverting to the loyal +_amigos_ to creep out by night with a pair of wire-nippers and undo in a +moment what men had moiled through days to accomplish. When these wires +sputtered and fell dead it was usually a fairly good indication that +news of some fresh atrocity would finally percolate, and that a new +"punitive expedition" must fare forth. + +And yet in the town itself, and even in the smaller garrisons clustered +about it, there was no overt act of rebellion--only ghastly news from +the hills and hinterland. + +In these days, former top-sergeant Peter Spooner, now battalion +sergeant-major with the 26th Volunteers, became more than ever a force +in himself. The smattering of Spanish which he had picked up in old +Mexico had become a fluent stream. He was so valuable in a dozen ways +that the semi-clerical work of sergeant-major often fell to other hands, +while Black Pete was out on special detail. His scouting expeditions +were effective of such results that the name of the dark giant became +with the people of the enemy, as it had once been in the Kentucky +mountains, a word to conjure with. In short, Black Pete Spooner was such +a treasure of a "non-com" as gave his superiors food for mess-table +boasting. + +"Spooner," declared his captain, "could command a battalion if called +on. He absorbs detail. He has even picked up the Morse code, and only +yesterday I found him relieving the signal-corps man at the key. That's +an example of his versatile efficiency." + +In many scouting expeditions, Sergeant Newton Spooner likewise won for +himself the bitter hatred of the guerillas. These mountain men had, in +common with the enemy, the ability to become invisible, and often when +they were supposedly being stalked it was found that they were really +stalking. + +So the days passed, and at last a steamer brought fresh supplies and +also Mrs. Henry Falkins, who would no longer be denied. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Months in the isolation of a tropic garrison bring to the minds of men +strange vagaries. When the work is that of hunting down elusive little +traitors, who present faces of friendship by day and develop ingenious +and atrocious deviltries at night, the effects are neither softening nor +humanizing. + +The presence of Mrs. Henry Falkins was to the men of the battalion like +the steady freshening of a clean and fragrant breeze into a miasma. Had +they had their way, they would have set her up, a living image, in the +place of the patron saint above the bullet-scarred altar of the church. +But even saints have defects, virtuous and noble defects perhaps, such +as erring on the side of too great faith in humanity, when humanity is +treacherous. + +One native woman, whose face bore more strongly the characteristics of +some far-off Castilian ancestor than of immediate forbears and mixed +race, came to headquarters, and ingratiated herself with the commander's +lady. When she brought in the week's washing, her smile was a dazzling +flash of milky teeth and lips touched with Spanish carmine. + +And it fell to pass that, though he had always been an immune to +feminine blandishments, the tall sergeant-major was seen frequently +strolling between the _nipa_ houses with the _mestiza_ girl. + +The Deacon, who had always been reserved, even melancholy in the +thoughtfulness of his expression, was in these days more deeply somber +than before. + +Newt Spooner, alone in the command, recognized that there was some +secret gnawing within his kinsman and that it was not a pleasant secret. + +Deaths in the battalion had claimed several lieutenants, and left +vacancies which carried commissions. Sergeant-major Spooner felt the +time ripe for him to cross the line from non-com to commissioned +officer. He could, in the old militia days, have had captain's bars for +the taking. Now it would need the mandate of Washington, but the fact +that nothing was said about it secretly grieved him. His officers from +major down had bragged endlessly of his efficiency, yet the thought that +was constantly in his mind never seemed to occur to them, and he +doggedly refused to suggest it. It should not be inferred that the +non-commissioned giant went sulking about his work. On the contrary, +whatever rancor he felt was inward and unworded, and for that reason the +more dangerous. + +Newt, too, was feeling the influences of marrow-pinching days and +jungle-burrowing and mountain-climbing on chases that came to nothing. +More and more prominently, the haunting presence of his private grudge +thrust itself to the front of his brain and grew sinister. + +The boy held his peace, though he knew that Sergeant-Major Spooner had +received a letter from one of the Insurgent "generals" offering him a +captain's commission "in the service and just cause of the Republic." +Black Pete himself believed that this proffer was in reality an effort +to lure him into the power of the enemy for torture and death, and he +mentioned the incident only to his major. + +Then, one morning, the _mestiza_ girl bade a smiling farewell, which was +also tearful, and was kissed by the major's lady. She was going away, +she explained, to relatives who dwelt in the mountains. She waved her +hand vaguely toward the Cordilleras: "_Mucho_ distance away. No longer +could she see the beautiful senora, or"--and here her dark lashes +drooped and her olive cheeks flushed--"or the tall, brave _soldado +Americano_." + +Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner walked with her, as far as the outskirts of +the town, and the two talked in low voices, in Spanish. So the Deacon +was the last to bid her farewell, as befitted the man who had most +impressed her heart. + +If the sergeant-major was cast down, he only devoted himself more +industriously to the service, and gave no sign. + +And the service had need of him, for a few days later came word of a +sizeable force of the enemy camped in the mountains, and bent on +mischief. In one of the few loyal villages the _presidente_ had been +murdered and many _Americanista_ houses put to the torch. Swiftly enough +the battalion prepared for pursuit and punishment. Yet to go out in +force would mean failure, so several scouting parties left in advance +of the column. One went under the command of Lieutenant Sperry, and +Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner was included at his own request. + +It was thought natural that the sergeant-major should wish to be one of +the avengers. The native girl had gone that way; might be in that region +where _amigos_ were being slaughtered, and it was perhaps known to the +guerillas that she had loved an American soldier whom they blackly +hated. + +The detail embraced only twelve men, one of whom returned. But even that +one did not return to the town by the church. + +At a considerable native village, some ten miles away and lying at the +edge of the mountains, was garrisoned a platoon of the battalion under +the command of _Teniente_ Barlow. The road between the town with the +church and this subsidiary station was, for that country, good, and the +garrisoned village itself was as safe as a fortress. It was beyond that +the work lay. + +When Mrs. Falkins learned that a company from headquarters would march +at once to follow up what news the scouts brought in, she promptly +announced that as far as the village she would accompany the expedition. +The major raised no objection. It was a pleasant thought that he could +defer his farewell with his wife until he left the edge of the +safety-zone, and meet her there on his return. Mrs. Falkins rode her +native pony along that ten mile-march with a feeling of exhilaration and +pride. These men who marched and fought behind her husband, were to her +all members of a great family, of which he was the head. They were no +longer raw men, "unmade, unhandled, unmeet," but seasoned and tempered +veterans, and her young heart thrilled with pride as she drank in the +morning air, and gazed with fascination at the vivid colors of the +forests and the weird picturesqueness of the thatched hamlets by the +way. + +For five days after their arrival in the village, they awaited news from +the hills. They had hoped for definite tidings before that time, but as +yet the delay had caused no anxiety. The scouts might have found the +reconnaissance a larger enterprise than they had anticipated. So those +at the village invoked the philosophy of patience--and waited. + +It had been some time since Lieutenant Barlow had seen a woman from +God's country. He was one of the men who had come to the regiment with +its reorganization, and now he was glad that he had turned a native +bungalow into a fairly comfortable place for the quartering of his +superior and his superior's wife. There was a small thatched porch, +shaded against the mid-day glare by a grass curtain. From this verandah +when the moonlight flooded the village, one had a view not to be +despised. Across a bare space of so-called plaza stood the house +occupied as headquarters, and now, on the fourth evening after their +arrival, its office stood open-doored and vacant, save for the musician +of the guard, who must remain on duty there until tattoo. + +Everywhere about the village was the ordered quiet of a town well +guarded. The girl sat in a deep wicker chair, while the two officers +nursed their khaki-clad knees on the steps--and all talked of the +States. The moonlight seemed to gush and flow over the face of the +world, and to throw walls and roofs and palms into the fantastic +picture-shapes of a fairy tale. Off between the houses, she could see +the pacing figure of a sentry. Overhead from the nipa roof came the +occasional stirring of a house-snake, and in the long silences, which +the night stillness fostered, they heard tiny sounds of delicate +scurrying footfalls as the lizards scampered across the walls. + +One of them darted out into the yellow light of the open door, and +halted near the lieutenant's knee. There, flashing like luminous jade +and inflating his small crimson throat, he shrilled out his small, +strident voice, and others answered. + +It all seemed very unreal and far away and strangely beautiful. Then to +their ears drifted a call from the sentry line for the corporal of the +guard. + +Athwart the front of the headquarters building lay an unbroken space, +which the moonlight dyed with the deep blue-green radiance of a black +opal. Shortly there appeared into this space two figures, carrying +something which seemed heavy. They moved slowly as though their burden +were a thing that required much care and, as they came nearer and made +their way slowly toward the open door of the headquarters office, it +became obvious that what they bore between them was a very limp human +being. At first, it seemed unconscious and hung sagging in their arms; +but, before they had disappeared through the doorway, it came to life +with a nerve-rasping jargon of delirious sounds and lashed out +inconsiderately with its arms and legs at the men who were giving it +assistance. + +Major Falkins and Lieutenant Barlow rose hastily, and crossed the space +of moonlight. The girl rose, too, but she went into the house with that +sound of raving still in her ears--and sat down, suddenly unnerved. + +In the office, the major and lieutenant found the creature which had, +several days ago, been a private soldier of the headquarters scouts, +lying on the floor in the lemon-colored lamplight. It was mumbling +inarticulate things through parched and cracking lips, and gazing wildly +out of a couple of red embers that had formerly been eyes. Its clothing +hung on it in tatters, and the exposed flesh was bolo-gashed and +briar-torn. This was the one man of the twelve who came back to +report--and came back decorated from torture. The surgeon was already +kneeling on the floor, doing what human skill could do--which was too +little. + +The raving man made tortured efforts to speak, as though the eternal +peace of his soul required it; but, of those bending over him, none +could construe the hoarse gibberish of his swollen tongue and +unbalanced brain. + +Sergeant Newton Spooner had silently entered the office in response to +the major's summons. Now, he stood at attention just within the +threshold, and his eyes were not pleasant eyes as he gazed on the +threshing, disfigured thing, and recognized in him a kinsman. But, if +his face was hard-set and lustful for vengeance, it was hardly more so +than that of the battalion commander, standing by as the surgeon forced +brandy between the teeth of the wrecked face. The physician finally rose +with a shake of his head. + +"It's no use," he announced briefly. "He can't last two hours." + +But to the object of erstwhile human shape came a momentary flash of +revival. He tried to prop himself on one elbow and waved his torn +fingers toward the mountains. From his mouth came incoherent sounds, and +in his eyes burned the desperation of a final effort to rid himself of +some message. Then he reached his hand around to his neck, and they saw +that he bore, pinned to his belt, a package wrapped in the red calico of +which _tao_ breeches are fashioned. + +They removed it, and opened the covering, to find inside a communication +of the sort that scrapes the civilization from men as a coarse cloth +scrapes the tender blush from a peach. + +"This memento we return with compliments," ran the screed in neatly +penned Spanish. "The rest will be dealt with as befits foes of the +Republic. If you follow you will find at Santa Rosa another memento. + +"_Adios, con mucho felicidad_, General Jose Rosario." + +Major Falkins wheeled to Sergeant Newton Spooner. His face was very +white and stony. "Have your company ready to hike--quick!" His words +were snapped out like the cracks of a mule-whip; but Sergeant Newton +Spooner had saluted and disappeared before the final syllable was +uttered. + +Within the hour, Mrs. Henry Falkins stood at the shell-paned window of +the bungalow and saw the company swinging toward the edge of town with a +step that argued coming events. At their head, guiding them into the +blind trails of the _bosque_, went a native from the village, but he +went with a rope around his shoulders, which was held by a sturdy +private of the advance guard. There was no intention that he should +abruptly disappear into the jungle and carry warning, instead of giving +service as guide. + +At noon the next day, the column had proof that thus far at least they +were following the right trail. The overhead wheeling of buzzards would +have guided them now, even had the native failed of loyalty. + +In the gulch of a stream that ran between tall and tangled banks, the +advance came upon the bodies of the two men who had comprised the +"point," and who had first run into the ambuscade. What the other ten +had done was plain enough. At that first outbreak, they had scattered +into a second slough, running at right angles with the dipping trail. +There they had lain down and taken cover among the scattered rocks, and +there eight of them still lay. It was the only thing they could do, also +it was what the enemy had planned they should do. Major, lieutenant, and +sergeant went over the ground and read the signs. It was quite easy. +They could tell the approximate order in which each had died, by +counting the litter of empty cartridge-hulls about the bodies. + +Then they found one pile of these spent souvenirs in a place where there +was no corpse, and it was perhaps the largest pile of all. That should +be the spot where Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner had come to bay for his +last stand. Probably he had lost consciousness from blood-letting at the +end. Otherwise, he would hardly have been taken alive. + +The bodies were hurriedly buried, and the graves marked; then the column +pushed on, a little grimmer and a little more silent and a little +faster, toward Santa Rosa. + +At dawn, the men of the 26th Volunteers filed into empty streets which +echoed their marching tread. It was like a village of the dead, a place +of empty houses and open doors. No one had waited to explain to the +wrathful avengers. But they found, nailed conspicuously to the front of +a nipa shack in the principal street, a large white sheet of paper, +bearing another note of satiric directions. + +"On the trail which leads from this street, the _bosque_ will, at the +distance of one league, contain one more memento. + +"_Adios, con mucho felicidad_, General Jose Rosario." + +There was no spoken word, as Falkins, turning from the message, nodded +to the company commander, and the column swung forward. There was no +sound as they marched through the deserted street, except the rattle of +cup and canteen on haversack and the purposeful thud of their own feet +on the hard-beaten earth. + +And beyond the edge of the town, where a sullen-looking carabao bull, +sole occupant, gazed after them, there was still grim silence as they +plunged into the thick growth of the _bosque_ and bored their way into +the country, which at every mile was growing wilder and more impassable. +The eight bodies they had buried, and the one which had doubtless been, +by this time, buried back at the garrison, accounted for seventy-five +per cent. of the detachment which had gone ahead. The three others +included Lieutenant Sperry, of Jackson, and Sergeant-Major Peter +Spooner, and those two had been taken alive. The column was so grim in +its purpose now that it needed no more orders than blood-hounds would +have required. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +At a place where they came upon the ashes of a dead fire, Henry Falkins +halted the command, and, accompanied by a lieutenant and Sergeant Newton +Spooner, undertook some investigations of his own. It was Sergeant +Spooner, led by an inborn instinct which became a compass in the woods, +who discovered the thing they sought. He returned in grim silence to the +officers, and led them to a small clearing in the _bijuca_ tangle. +There, roped upright to a tree, was a body wearing the uniform of a +first lieutenant of United States Infantry. Newt Spooner had found the +"memento." The dead man bore no bolo gashes, and the wound which had +disabled him had been only a bullet through one shoulder. Yet, as the +officers came near, they realized that he had not been dead when he was +placed here. He had stood up, lashed against a slender palm bole, and +died on his feet. Yet even that failed to account for the hideous twist +of acute agony frozen on the dead features. No ordinary torture would +have so stamped the dying visage of such a stoic. The large brown ants +were crawling everywhere, but the full meaning of their presence was to +pass unrealized until Newton Spooner attracted attention. He silently +led them closer and pointed to an amber smear about the lips and +nostrils of the dead man. + +"Honey, sir," he said briefly, in a voice that rasped like a file; "wild +honey. They put that stuff in his nose and mouth, sir. The ants did the +rest." + +The officers turned away, sickened, and after a moment Falkins ordered +briefly. + +"Bring a burial detail, sergeant--and, sergeant," he added, as a vicious +note crept into the timbre of his utterance, "when we come up with these +fellows, we take no prisoners. You understand, no prisoners!" + +For ten days after that, a company of United States Volunteers drove +their way through the mountains and _bosques_ of eastern Luzon, +with the hammer-blows of forced marches. Their faces were the bristling, +unshaven visages of half-wild men, and their eyes bore the inky +cancellation-marks of a fatigue which, in such climates, is courtship of +death. They had been bearing a noonday steam-like heat that parboiled +them and wasted them in floods of sweat. They had marched and slept in +wet khaki when sudden rains drenched the land and the jungle simmered +afterward. A demoniacal desire for a reckoning in full with one Jose +Rosario sustained them. The chase had resolved itself into a hellish +adaptation of hare and hound, for always ahead of them lay clews and +information, and evidences of recent departures. Always, the wily +guerilla was just out of grasping and crushing distance. In lonely +villages, they found marks of his recent occupancy--with prisoners. In +the hills, they found the ashes of his fires, but himself they never +found. And, as he taunted them, they followed, "as dust-blown devils +go": followed with an artificial and superhuman endurance engendered of +mountain hate and an unassuaged thirst for vengeance. In many brains +queer nightmare shapes rose and had to be brushed aside with a conscious +effort, and in many veins the blood ran hot and feverish. The pursuit +had carried them in a long circle like the flight of a fox, and brought +them back to a point not so many miles from where they had entered the +hills, but as far as ever from their quarry. The pursuing force was too +large. The rest of the way they would rake _bosque_ and hill in +scattered segments, each acting for itself and seeking to fall upon the +enemy while he watched the decoy of the largest detachment. + +Major Falkins and a dozen men, including First Sergeant Newton Spooner, +were working their way through a jungle which seemed impervious to human +progress. For days they had been so working. Step by step they moved +lethargically, and in single file. No military order of formation can be +kept unbroken where men are weaving their tired bodies in and out +through a matted growth of rank _bijuca_ and jungle tangles. Besides, +they moved as men half-asleep and indifferent to consequences, dragging +leaden feet. The course they had taken had yielded never a sign, never +an indication that they had chosen wisely. It led them through an +unpeopled country where the valleys were mosquito-infested and +malaria-ridden, and where drenching rains brought chill to their aching +bones. They forced themselves forward with their hair matted and their +brains dull. Clouds of mosquitoes moved with them. They were steadfast +and resolute men, but they were also half-insane. + +In this fashion, they came to a small, ravine-like channel, which for a +little way ran in the direction they wished to go. Through it they could +walk upright without fighting vines and cane. Experience had taught the +danger of easy ways, but weariness had overcome caution, and for a +furlong they plodded silently. + +Ahead of them, the dry stream-bed, which was giving them momentary +comfort as a roadway, twisted at an angle. Even in their lethargy they +observed one rule of military caution. They walked in file with an +interval of several yards between each two. Eleven of them had passed +out of sight around the turn. Major Falkins, who was number twelve, was +just turning the point, and behind him trailed one other. It was +Sergeant Spooner, who rarely lagged in the rear. Then the heavy +stillness broke into the old familiar thunder, and four men lurched +forward and crumpled down on their faces, as useless henceforth to the +United States of America as burst bubbles. + +"Back here, boys!" yelled Falkins, leaping out of his lethargy into +sudden life. + +"Git behind this twist--damn ye! Git into ther la'rel!" shrieked +Sergeant Spooner in echo, forgetting that the natural cover of the +Islands was not the laurel of the Cumberlands. Falkins, standing at the +turn, became an instant target, and the sergeant saw his campaign hat +fly off spinning; saw the officer set his feet farther apart as one who +braces himself, and heard the spiteful bark of his revolver. The +sergeant himself was unseen, and it suddenly occurred to him that he +might be more effective by remaining so. He saw the men who were still +on their feet falling back on the protecting angle with its steep banks, +firing doggedly as they came, and one by one he saw them drop short of +their goal, except two who reached it only to lie down at the margin of +shelter. He saw the major stand for a moment, shaking his head as the +voices of the Krags died away and only the Remingtons of the enemy broke +the silence. + +Then the major, who no longer had a command, stepped back around the +angle, and sat down on the ground. He laid his pistol on his knees and +wiped blood from his eyes, but, after a moment, as though that posture +were not comfortable enough, he stretched quietly out, with one elbow +under his cheek, and drew up his knees as a child might lie in a crib +when its mother has kissed it good-night. Spooner realized that he alone +of that detail remained an efficient. There was no one to save except +himself--and Falkins. To save himself was easy. He had not yet been +seen. + +Cautiously, the sergeant crawled over and possessed himself of all the +firearms that lay in reach, without revealing himself; then again he +crawled back, burrowing under the overhanging bank. He laid the four +Krags in a row with their muzzles roughly trained above the major's +body, and waited. At his back rose a bank which would confuse and +multiply with echoes any sound. + +Finally, the cautious brown heads appeared, and brown bodies flitted +among the dead, collecting their spoils. Then Newt cupped both hands at +his lips, and let out the mountain yell, a yell which had grown famous +in Luzon. At the same instant, as fast as he could work the triggers +lying grouped before him, he made the rifles speak from their magazines, +as it seemed in unison, and the four reports were magnified by the rocks +into a seeming of volley-fire. Instantly and in frenzied consternation, +the brown men disappeared, and Newt Spooner worked his way forward, +firing as fast as he could until he could peer into the channel. But the +white men there would require no attention, and could benefit by none +save the impossible courtesy of burial. As for the brown men, they were +gone. + +In one body, however, there was still life, and that happened to be the +body of the battalion commander. + +Newton Spooner strapped as many cartridge-belts about himself as he +could carry. Then he pressed his canteen to the lips of Major Falkins, +and began a slow and tedious journey back toward a point ten miles to +the east, where if all went well and every chance favored him, he might +possibly strike the camp of the main detachment to-morrow afternoon. +To-morrow afternoon! For once in his life, Newton Spooner laughed. + + * * * * * + +That night, Major Falkins did not die, but lay raving with a delirium of +fever in the seclusion of the jungle whither the "non-com" had borne +him. And, while he lay tossing, a dark figure sat huddled near-by, +lethargically slapping at mosquitoes and bringing himself back with +heart-breaking effort out of the heavy-lidded temptation of sleep. The +man who so sat, grinned from time to time, and there was the queer, +distorted quality of madness in the grin. + +When Henry Falkins at last opened his eyes, he saw about him only the +dense tangle of the forest, and heard only the bird-voices in the trees. +Slowly a recollection of yesterday came to his mind. He tried to rise on +his elbow, and discovered his feet were tight-bound. Evidently he had +been captured and was now being carried off by the ingenious Rosario to +be filed away for future torture. Then he heard a sound like a strained +chuckle, and turned his eyes, to find himself gazing into a grinning, +lunatic face, which was the face of Sergeant Newton Spooner. + +"Where are we, sergeant?" he inquired with forced composure. "Why am I +tied up?" + +The sergeant's reply was a hyena-like laugh, under which his gums were +exposed beyond his teeth. + +"I reckon," he suggested slowly, "ye mout es well drop the sergeant part +of hit. Thar's jest the two of us left, and hit won't be long twell +thar's jest one." + +The wounded battalion commander settled back on the ground and said +nothing. The demoniacal face of the other was not a face that could be +reasoned with. It was the face of a man whose unhinged reason was +capable of anything but sanity. + +"Ye penitentiaried me oncet," went on the sergeant in dead-voiced +reiteration of an old theme. "Ye sent me thar when ye didn't have +nothin' erginst me. In the penitensherry--" he talked on +half-coherently, half-ramblingly--"a feller jest studies 'bout things +and gits meaner--and hyar hit 'pears like he kin git meaner yit." + +"You must have dragged me away from that ravine," interrupted Falkins, +realizing that they were not where he had fallen, and reasoning rather +with himself than with the other. "You saved me yesterday. Why did you +do that?" + +"Because," retorted the other quickly, with a fierce up-leaping of +passion to his eyes, "because I was savin' my superior officer--not you, +but a man in that uniform--besides ye b'longed ter me. I wasn't a-goin' +ter suffer no nigger ter git ye. Thet would hev been a soldier's death. +Now thar's jest two of us--we ain't soldiers now--we're jest men." + +Falkins lay of necessity outstretched, awaiting the pleasure of his +captor. About him swarmed mosquitoes, and he tossed his head in the vain +effort to shake them off, and slapped viciously at them--for with his +feet trussed there had been no necessity to tie his hands. Above him he +could see patches of blue between the waving palm fronds, and to his +fevered eyes the sky seemed to rock and ripple like a placid sea. Then +he looked at the other soldier, standing at a distance, and the soldier, +too, seemed to wave gently from head to foot as though painted on a +fluttering curtain, but he read in the glowering face that the man meant +to kill him. + +"You fool!" he muttered. "You poor damned fool!" + +He spoke in a voice of lassitude, as though his interest in the matter +were academic and dilute. In his brain, the tide of fever was rising +afresh, and this time it stole on him with the warmth of a comfortable +narcotic. + +But Newt Spooner went on, more steadily now, though with no faltering of +determination. + +"I've waited the hell of a time.... I told ye my chanst would come.... I +told ye, when ye tried ter play a damn' hero there at 'Frisco, thet I'd +git my chanst. Ef I'd kilt ye then, ye'd hev hed all ther best of hit, +but now hit's different. Now I kin make ye pray fer mercy--an' not git +none." + +"Kill me, and be damned to you!" snapped the bound man, for a moment +roused out of growing stupor into a peevish irritability. "I'm no more +afraid of you now than I was then." + +"I reckon," the boy spoke very deliberately and impressively, "I reckon +I knows a way ter make ye skeered." It had been a long time now since +Newton Spooner had talked in the uncouth vernacular of the hills, but +the Newt Spooner of this morning was, it seemed, a man relapsed; a man +from whom had slipped all the changes that the months had wrought. He +came slowly and unsteadily over, and squatted on his haunches above the +prostrate figure. He drew one hand from behind him, and held it out. + +"I found a wild bee gum down thar," he went on in a dead, level tone. +"This hyar's wild honey. Thet-thar idee of givin' the ants a party +hain't so damned bad atter all, is it?" + +The major rolled over and presented his back to his enemy. He laughed +and his tormentor did not know that it was the laughter of +uncomprehending delirium. To Newt, it seemed a misplaced sense of humor. + +"Wake me up for breakfast," murmured the major. "I want to take a nap +now." + +Later, Falkins awoke to a lucid interval, and saw nothing of his mad +companion. But gradually his mind began to collect scattered fragments +of memory, and the thing he had laughed at rose up to torture him. He +remembered the threat now, and he remembered the dead face of the man +they had found tied to a tree. He lay alone, shivering in weakness and +harried by a terror he would not have cared to confess. An ant crawled +over one wrist, and he leaped up, choking off a wild scream. It seemed +that he could feel them crawling and stinging in thousands through his +nostrils and nibbling at his brain. His fever would return, but for the +present he lay sane and clammy with chill. + +When the cool of the evening came, Newt reappeared. But his face, too, +had lost its maniac glare. It was the face now of a man unutterably +weary--as though all day he had been in some great travail. + +"I reckon we mout as well be hikin'. Kin ye walk?" he inquired curtly. + +"I'm not going to walk," retorted the officer belligerently. "This is as +good a place to die as any." + +"I ain't goin' ter hurt you," said Newt Spooner in a tired voice. "I +reckon the time ain't come yet, after all." + +"When will it come?" demanded the other, amazed beyond belief at this +sudden change of front. + +"Thet's my business. I hates you worse than pizen ... but I can't hurt +you while we're both wearin' this uniform. It beats hell how much a man +gets to thinkin' about a damn' pair of government breeches!" He stopped +off as if in embarrassment. Then he added: "Besides, I'm beholden to +your wife. She gave me a lift once on the high-road." + +Two days later, just as the platoon, flushed with a success which the +others had missed, was preparing to break camp for the day's march, two +men, both gibbering foolishly, both shambling on unsteady feet, +tattered, thorn-torn and scalded with fever, dragged themselves, in the +locked embrace of drunken men, up into sight of the outposts, and +collapsed. One wore a major's uniform, and one had on his sleeve what +was left of a sergeant's chevrons. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +The policy of splitting the command into bits, and leaving one platoon +to carry on the seeming of the full force, had brought both disaster and +success. The main body had taken a middle course upon which the smaller +details might--theoretically--fall back, and on either side squads had +scouted. While the men under Falkins were being misled and trapped, +another detachment had slipped fortuitously upon a scouting party of the +enemy, and, being less fatigued by reason of an easier course, they were +stealing through the _bosque_ with unabated caution, and not one of that +scouting party escaped alive except two who were captured. The +detachment rejoined the platoon, and in view of the spirit in which the +main command received these prisoners, they finally laid aside their +show of sullen stubbornness and talked volubly. + +Not only did they talk, under the effective persuasion of their captors, +but they acted. They agreed to lead the _Americanos_ to the camp of +General Rosario, which they said was pitched in a particularly +inaccessible part of the mountains only a day's march away. Then the +command, which had for so long been following a fox-fire, rose up, +invigorated by the prospect of final success, and all day they slipped +forward through trails which they could not have found alone. They +marched with the swiftness of the final spurt, and at nightfall lay +under cover, feasting their eyes on a column of smoke which rose from a +canyon where the enemy lay in fancied security. The captives had done +their work well, once they had undertaken it, but the onslaught must be +sudden. There must be no time given to slaughter the American prisoners +whom Rosario was carrying north with him as a present for Aguinaldo. + +They could but admire the sagacity with which the enemy had selected his +lair. They must attack through two high-walled gorges where machine-guns +waited to mow them down. But the _Americanos_ meant to reach those guns +before they were discovered, and after that the impregnable strong-hold +would become a trap without exits. + +The column had therefore divided, each section taking a guide. The +guides, with bayonets at their backs as reminders of their mission, had +gone forward and with passwords bespoken the sentries, whose voices had +been choked off in the pitchy darkness before they could give outcry. + +Then came the mountain yell, but it came only from the narrower gorge, +and it was accompanied by musketry which the steep walls echoed and +re-echoed. The flood of flight surged into a wave of disorganized rout +toward the other opening--where it fell back in broken spray from volley +and bayonet. Useless now were the machine-guns; worse than useless the +impregnable walls of rock. The insurgent forces, remembering their red +iniquities, asked no terms or quarter, but hurled themselves on the +bayonets and went down in the close chaos of bolo and clubbed musket. +"And luckiest of them that fell, were those of them that died." + +It was a little keyhole picture of red and black inferno, while it +lasted, but it did not last long. + +Yet, of General Rosario and his white prisoners there was no trace. That +wily leader had gone on with a small escort before nightfall, and no one +was left to tell what direction he had taken. + +So it happened that when the two survivors of the ambuscade came +tottering into the camp which they had hoped to reach much sooner, they +found the main detachment just leaving. Had it not been belated by the +delay of the successful expedition into the hills, it would have passed +this point twenty-four hours ago, and the half-dead refugees would have +been too late. + +It had taken Henry Falkins and Newt Spooner two days instead of one to +cover that ten miles of _bosque_. They had come staggering, sometimes +gibbering, and rarely were both of them sane. Sometimes they raved in +duet, but during the first day Newt kicked and pummeled his superior +forward as long as he could walk. After that, he carried, dragged and +rolled the limp figure, obsessed only by the fixed idea that he had a +package to deliver somewhere "over yon." Frequently he forgot that the +package was a thing of life. Frequently, too, he madly beat it and swore +at it, but always he worked it forward, falling time after time to rise +again and stumble ahead. Then Newton Spooner became a thing without +consciousness, and a faint spark of realization flickered back into the +murk of the major's brain, and laid on his sick soul the same necessity. +That day, or part of it, he dragged and carried and kicked. At last, +with neither fully conscious, they linked arms about each other's +shoulders, gazed at each other with wild, agonized eyes, mumbled at each +other with swollen tongues, and shambled, crawled and hitched along +together. + + * * * * * + +Between two cots in the village at the mountains' edge the wife of Major +Falkins vibrated like a pendulum for several days, and when the +commanding officer's tongue became again a thing which he could lift and +command he told her of his rescue by the boy who had taken a blood-oath +against him, but he told nothing of the episode in which the sergeant +had debated the fulfilment of his vow. + +Later, when the company had marched back to its headquarters in the town +with the church, Mrs. Falkins drew a glowing picture of heroism in a +letter which she wrote home to the States. The colonel, her father, in +due time received it, and it found its way into news column and +editorial, and was duly read by many persons. + +"Clem's gal," no longer at the mountain college, but studying at the +State University in Lexington with the scholarship that she had won, was +one of the many. She read in the little dormitory room overlooking the +quiet campus. She had come here to prepare herself for a return to the +mountain school as a teacher, and when next she went back to the +Cumberlands the paper went with her, that the prophet might have honor +at home. + +It was October, and she had been summoned by the illness of her +step-mother. Now, as the girl rode along the creek-bed roads, the hills +were flaunting their watch-fires of autumn, and the horizon wore its +veil of Indian-summer softness. Clem had met her in Jackson with his +nag, and she was riding, mountain-fashion, on a pillion behind him. Her +father was battered and disheveled, and about his clothes clung the +smoke-house odor of the windowless cabin with its log fire, but there +also clung about the vaulting slopes and ruggedly beautiful ravines the +fragrance of the fall, and the girl could not find it in her heart to +feel gloomy, even though she was exchanging the wholesome life of the +university for the squalor of the cabin. Thanks to Newt, she had her +room, where she could withdraw as into her own castle. She felt almost +gay, and, as she thought of the room which a rude, sullen-eyed boy had +reared for her with his calloused hands, her eyes grew soft like the +horizons. That boy, too, had been away into the world, and had become a +hero. Presumably he was mending his broken life. + +The old horse plodded slowly and sometimes the girl slipped down and +walked alongside. Clem had little conversation after he had told how +"porely" the step-mother was. "He reckoned hit all come about from +gittin' dew-pizened." But, as they made the trip, the girl recited to +him the news from the far-away islands. + +The man listened stolidly, and at the end inquired: + +"Did I onderstand ye rightly, M'nervy? War Henry Falkins ther feller he +saved?" + +When the information was confirmed, he ejaculated in wonderment: + +"Well, doggone my ornery skin! Hit seems like jest yestiddy thet Newty +lit out acrost these-hyar hills, hell-bent on lay-wayin' Henry Falkins +fer a-penitensheryin' him." + +Then Minerva remembered the lad's face when she had told of Henry +Falkins awarding her medal, and for the first time she understood. + + * * * * * + +Back in the town with the church the months went by with routine of +garrison duty and periods of fevered activity. + +The energetic Rosario had for a time lain dormant after the paralyzing +blow which had obliterated so large a portion of his command, but as the +natives began to evince a growing confidence in the protecting hand of +the American government, the general bestirred himself, and once more +tidings of his atrocities drifted into headquarters. During these months +there passed between Sergeant Newton Spooner and his major no reference +to the morning in the jungle when the last echo of the old threat had +found expression. + +It was as though, on this subject, the lips of each were sealed by oath, +but Sergeant Spooner went about his work with a smart and soldierly +alacrity that kept the men of his company always on their toes. When +there was trying work to do the commanding officer found himself +instinctively turning to that company, and since the company responded +to its top-sergeant like a muscle to a nerve, that meant that he turned +to Newton Spooner. + +Then came an epidemic of outrage. + +Villages with _Americanista presidentes_ went up in smoke. Haciendas of +loyal Spaniards and Ilacanos were raided, and their people put to the +bolo. With the wild stories of Rosario's activity that drifted in, there +came persistently the fame of a white man who stood at the Filipino's +right hand, giving him counsel. The rumor added that this man was a +deserter from the American army. The truth or falsity of that allegation +did not particularly interest the 26th Volunteer Infantry. The 26th from +its Shirt-tailed beginnings had been stainless of the reproach of +desertion. If other commands had been less fortunate it was not their +affair. But it was very much their affair that, when they ran down a +band of guerillas and closed with them, they encountered more numerous +casualties, because someone had been teaching the brown men how to fight +and shoot as they had never in their lives fought and shot before. + +It very closely concerned the 26th Volunteer Foot that the game of war +was being taught their foes by a renegade who had learned it under +their own colors. + +But the insult, set upon injury, came one day with a grim humor that was +to have an even grimmer sequel. + +The telegraph operator at a near-by village was passing the time of day +with the S. C. man at the headquarters key. Suddenly the instrument went +dead with a splutter, and, while the headquarters operator tested and +cursed, it remained stubbornly dumb. The line had been cut again. + +Before a detachment could be despatched to follow the wire to the break, +the instrument set up a buzz, and the buzz became Morse code. As the +astonished operator read the dots and dashes this message was clicked +out to him: "General Jose Rosario, in passing, presents his compliments +and hopes to report other mementos in near future." + +Obviously the wire had been grounded and the message sent by the enemy +himself at some point where he had tapped it with a field-transmitter. +That must be the work of the renegade--presumably a Signal Code +deserter, and yet though the _bosque_ was combed for days by peeved and +eager soldiery, no sign of a hostile force was found. Newton Spooner and +a squad of scouting men came upon a muddy spot in the _bijuca_ tangle +where a number of feet had trod, and, though the top-sergeant noted the +print of a service boot, he said nothing of the circumstance--at the +time. + +But while Newt said nothing he thought much. Keeping to himself, he was +fighting a battle which one way or the other must prove decisive in his +nature. He knew that he was facing a conclusion which could not be +lightly turned aside, and which could not be met without harrowing his +soul. To fail to face a certain specter which had unexpectedly arisen +would be to brand himself in the tribunal of his own inner consciousness +as a traitor to the service. To face it and accept the consequences that +might, and probably would, arise, would be to put behind him and trample +under foot the code of the mountains, and to confess that all his +preconceived ideas of life had been distorted and without value. + +Two deep-rooted impulses were wrestling with a ferocity that made the +boy's soul a battle-ground, torn, scarred and utterly miserable. The +chaplain had preached a sermon on Golgotha, and had told how the Master +had gone to the Place of a Skull, and had fought there with the spirit. +Newton Spooner was not the man for prayer or fasting, yet he fasted +because his palate revolted against the rations, in the torture of +indecision that racked him. + +And as he could not eat, so also he could not sleep and the wide eyes +which stared at the walls beyond his cot were eyes that burned with +feverish misery. Whether or not one is to become an Iscariot is a +problem that must bring its agony, an agony beyond the appeasement of +thirty pieces of silver. But when the problem so complicates itself that +instead of being merely a problem it is a dilemma, and not only a +dilemma, but the dilemma of choosing between proving an Iscariot to +one's code or to one's country, the matter is one which may well +unbalance a brain already depleted and jumbled of perspective by +steaming jungles and the assaults of the tropics on one's sanity. + +There was no one to whom Sergeant Spooner could go for counsel. To every +man comes one black night that tests the metal of his soul, and makes or +brands him with its result. It is a night when the furies ride +shrieking, and when the border between the man and the madman wavers. He +may not know it, but the dawn that comes at the end of such a night +breaks on a soul that has accepted its damnation or has liberated itself +and transformed itself. + +About the garrison, Sergeant Newton Spooner bore a face in which the +eyes were sunken and about whose lips ran deep lines of travail. In his +duties he was prompt and smart, but that was the ingrained training, +which had reached a state where it responded automatically to routine. +As he tossed on his cot, he suffered agonies and when he fell asleep it +was not for rest, but for nightmare. His dreams were harassed with a +bitter problem and what the end was to be hung in the balance. Dreams +are precarious and lawless, yet it was in the end a dream which decided +him. + +Just before he was aroused one morning he fell into a feverish slumber, +following a wakeful night, and to him, as to many men before him, a +vision came. + +Minerva seemed to stand before the regimental band at dress-parade. She +waved the flag and said, in a voice which no one else heard: + +"The soldier serves his colors." + +It happened that about the same time the _mestiza_ girl whom +Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner had honored with his attentions, before he +had fallen into the villainous hands of Rosario, came back to the town. +She did not remain long, and her face was sad. She had come, she +confided to Mrs. Falkins, hoping to see the great, brave soldier, and, +when she was told of how he had died, her sobs tore her until the +spectacle of her grief was insupportable. + +Then Newton Spooner did an unprecedented thing. Unversed as he was in +the ways of courtship, he dogged the steps of the _mestiza_ girl, +fetching and carrying for her with doglike devotion. + +And, since he was willing, instead of pressing his own suit, to sing the +praises of the late sergeant-major, she let him sit at the threshold of +her nipa house, and gaze at her while she sewed. When she went away and +Sergeant Spooner asked a brief leave of absence to accompany her on a +part of her return journey, the men of the garrison shook their heads +and announced that they would be damned. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Newt Spooner was gone a week, though he had only announced it as his +purpose to escort the girl as far as a near-by village. + +In three days more, according to the articles of war, his name must be +dropped from the company roll, and his status become that of death or +desertion. Even if he came back at once, he must face the lesser charge +of absence beyond leave. + +When the sergeant did return, he bore the marks of jungle travel, and as +he reported to his company commander, his face indicated that his +explanation would not be merely personal. + +Yet Sergeant Spooner was secretive, and asked permission to guide a +small force into the hills. He said that he had come upon evidence which +would not wait, and he had, therefore, taken the liberty of following it +up independently. He believed he could lead a detachment to a place +where a party of insurgents were in hiding, and--at this his captain sat +up and took notice--although it was a small party, he had information +which led him to believe the renegade might be one of the number. + +But for such an enterprise Newton Spooner's superiors required no +urging. The sergeant said that no considerable force could hope to reach +the place unheralded, so two picked squads stole out that same evening, +and before dawn of the third day (for they marched only at night and lay +hidden while the sun shone) were creeping through the long grass upon a +native farm where two nipa houses proclaimed the presence of humanity. +They crept cautiously, for though the place had all the seeming of +private and peaceful domiciles, they had learned to distrust appearances +and to trust Sergeant Newt Spooner's judgment. The spot was very wild +and desolate, lying remote from any village. In the gray mists between +night and morning it seemed a land of ghosts, with broken hills and +jungle closing about it. + +As daylight crept to the east, soldiers stood silent and patient at each +door and window of each house. It was a strange disposition of troops +about thatched houses that lay soundless and wrapped in profound +slumber. The lieutenant who had come in command stood at the right of +the front door of the larger house, and over against him, on the left, +stood Newt Spooner. But each stood with back pressed to wall, so +flattened against the uprights that, in that dim light, one coming out +of the door would pass them by unseeing. And at each of the other +openings the watchers were likewise flattened as though they had been +figures in bas-relief fantastically wrought by the builder. + +They stood without sound or movement, until, as the light strengthened a +little, the door opened and a _mestiza_ girl in slippered feet and +partial attire came out, carrying an earthen water-vessel. As she +crossed the threshold, looking neither to right nor left, New Spooner's +tight-pressed palm shot out and silenced her carmine lips. The officer +recognized the girl. He had himself recently turned away unable to watch +her sobs for her dead lover, and now he felt an impulse to resent this +rough indignity at the hands of the sergeant. But something in the +sergeant's face gave him pause, and at the same moment Newt Spooner +sternly whispered to his prisoner in Spanish: + +"Call him--call him, I tell you!" + +For an instant, the girl stood trembling from head to foot, with dumb +agony in her eyes. It was evident that she was facing the hardest crisis +of her life, and that terror was dominant. As Newt bent forward with +threatening hardness in his relentless face, she shrank back against the +wall, bowing her head in forced assent, and with the soldier's strong +hand still close enough to stifle any unwished-for outcry, she called in +quavering, heart-broken Spanish: + +"Beloved, come to me. Come _pronto_!" + +There followed, at once, a sound of bare feet from inside, and a +gigantic, half-clad figure appeared anxiously at the door. It was the +figure of a white man; and, as the lieutenant caught its shoulder, and +threw his revolver muzzle to its broad chest, he found himself looking +into the grave eyes of former Sergeant-Major Peter Spooner, late of the +26th Volunteers. + +For an instant, the officer stood too dazed to credit the testimony of +his eyes, but, while the Deacon glanced down the barrel of Newt's +leveled rifle, and shrugged his shoulders with a low oath, the officer +realized that he had under his hand the mysterious renegade. + +And then, as the deserter, still gazing into the flinty face of his +kinsman, raised his hands in surrender, he coolly turned toward the +house, and shouted back in excellent Spanish: + +"General, we are captives. Resistance is useless." + +In answer to that message, there shortly appeared, framed in the door, +the startled countenance of the notorious Rosario himself. Once too +often, he had trusted himself with those inconsiderable escorts which +had enabled him to pass from place to place without attracting +attention. + +The detail made its march back to headquarters, taking its prisoners +with it, in a semi-dazed condition. Against Rosario they felt little +vindictiveness, now that he was captive to their arms. But this other, +this sergeant-major who had organized most of them into soldiery back +there in the Appalachian hills, with him there was a ghastly difference. +He had been a hero, mourned as lost. He had taken the pay of the service +and held its highest warrant--and he had been false to his salt, for +those tin bars which they roughly stripped from his shoulders. + +But, if the command was struck sick with astonishment, Black Pete +himself treated them to no show of emotion. He had already considered +and weighed what it meant to desert to the enemy in time of war, and he +had been taken in attendance upon the enemy's district leader, wearing +the enemy's livery. He was already, in effect, dead, and he meant to +maintain the stolid silence of death. + +And so the detachment marched into headquarters with the grim silence of +a funeral cortege, though as yet the corpse walked upright and on its +own feet. + +No lips were tighter set, and no face more stonily expressionless than +that of Sergeant Newton Spooner. His was the capture, his the +credit--and, in part, the shame. Between himself and the man who must +hang existed the bond of one blood and one name. The smirch upon the +regiment was likewise a smirch upon that blood and name. + +The struggle in himself had begun from the moment when he found the +print of a large boot in the mud, and the disgrace to the service and +the regiment had come home to him ... the one form of disgrace which he +had ever understood. But the mental sweat was not yet over. It must have +its ugly culmination at general court-martial, and when that time came +he, Newt Spooner, must say the words upon which conviction would +indubitably follow. He knew that in its hideous fulness, had known it +from the start, and yet, when the hour came and he took the stand to +testify, no voice could have been steadier, and no gaze more unflinching +than that with which he held the eyes of the accused. + +But the gaze with which the Deacon met his was in no wise weaker. As +Black Pete listened to the proceedings in which his life-sands were +running out, his eyes were thoughtful and perhaps a shade wistful, but +undrooping, and unwavering. + +The defendant testified that, when he was captured, they offered him +choice between death and a captain's commission. He had chosen the +latter. They took him north, and he had talked with Aguinaldo in person. +The "President" had received him as an officer and a dignitary. He had +beguiled him with hopes of foreign recognition and a filmy vision of +ultimate success. The Deacon had held during his life one goal and one +ideal. His dream was leadership. He had tired of the warrant of the +"non-com." He wished to sit in council with men of higher rank. The +experiment had failed. He made no plea. + +The hearing before G.C.M. came after the regiment had left the town with +the church. It was on a larger parade ground that the united battalions +were drawn up at sunset, and the regimental adjutant stepped a pace +forward to the colonel's side and "published the order," which announced +that Peter Spooner was "to be hanged by his neck till dead." + +The lines stood silent as the adjutant's words were read. Black Pete at +"the front and center," to be seen of all men, presented a picture quite +as uncompromising as he had ever presented before. His contemplative +gray eyes bore straight to the front as he stood at attention, and in +them slept a thoughtful expression, as though they were looking off +beyond horizons hidden to other men, and already piercing the opaque +things of life and death. + +And Newt Spooner gave his company front a motionless, sternly impersonal +figure upon which to gaze. In neither condemned nor informer was there a +vestige of tremor as the officers came to the "front and center" and the +formation ended. + +In the wet mists of a rainy morning, they escorted Black Pete to a +scaffold around which ranged, in hollow square, the regiment he had +betrayed--and there they hanged him high as Haman. Brooding hills looked +down, rain-shrouded, and to their crests at the last moment the +condemned man raised his eyes. + +There was silence, save for the pelting of rain on iron roofs, until it +was broken by noise of the falling trap and the low whip-like snap of +the tautened rope. Then the burial detail went out and did its work. +Sergeant Newton Spooner returned to his routine duties with a grim +taciturnity which did not invite conversation. + + * * * * * + +It was at Manila, many months later, that Major Henry Falkins again +called Sergeant Spooner to battalion headquarters, and spoke with a +certain embarrassment: + +"Spooner," he inquired slowly, "have you come to realize that one man +may bear testimony against another for reasons other than spite?" + +A slow flush, brick-red and hot, spread over the bronzed face of the +non-commissioned officer. + +"I've come to understand a good many things, sir," he replied gravely. +"And I've paid for learning them." + +"We'll be mustered out before long," suggested Henry Falkins, "but I +won't be long out of uniform, I hope. I'm going to stay in the service. +Once I promised you a chance--" + +Newt Spooner grinned. + +"I reckon the uniform's good enough for me, too, sir," he interrupted. +Then he added, with a diffidence which all expression of deep feeling +brings to the mountaineer: "I reckon, sir, as long as I can serve under +you I'll go on reenlisting." + +Falkins was a mountaineer, too. He hastily changed the subject. + +"Commissions from the ranks are going to men less capable than you--but +examinations must be passed. If you'll study, Spooner, I'd like to get +behind you and help." + +"I've never spoken of that to any man, sir, but I've been thinking about +it," announced the sergeant diffidently. "I've been studying for +eighteen months." + + * * * * * + +Not far from the corner of Main and Limestone Streets in Lexington, +Kentucky, and almost in the shadow of the Phoenix Hotel, a poster on the +sidewalk and a flag from an overhead window proclaimed that "Men were +wanted for the United States Army." Out of the door of the building so +decorated, one spring morning, when the trees were in delicate new +leafage, came a sergeant attached to the recruiting station. He was +selected, as many of these men are, for his soldierliness of appearance. +Such men are the best advertisement the service can use, and it uses +them. + +The sergeant was not overly tall, and, though spare, he was by no means +lean. His shoulders swung back squarely, and his chest, rounded and +strong like a barrel, bore on its olive-drab blouse a sharp-shooter's +cross and the Medal of Honor, which must be bestowed by an Act of +Congress. + +His face was clear-cut and bronzed by tropic sun and ocean winds. In +fine, as the sergeant walked to the corner, casting his eyes up and down +Limestone Street, he was an inspiriting figure of a man--and a soldier +man. He had for the time nothing better to do than to stroll, and as he +strolled a flicker of reminiscent amusement brought a pleasant grin to +his firm lips. Sergeant Newt Spooner was thinking of the black-clad, +lowering-faced boy who years ago hiked through this town, bent on +assassination. + +As he went along the historic street, where every square held traditions +of ante-bellum days, he began to encounter other strollers, college lads +in sweaters and caps, and college girls with books. But his eyes finally +focused their gaze on a young woman who came out of a house and also +turned up the street, walking ahead of him. She was a slim girl in +simple gingham, but in her cheeks was an apple-blossom glow and +delicacy, and her movements were informed with the lithe grace of +out-of-doors. Newt wanted to overtake and accost her. He wanted to see +if she would recognize him, changed as he was, as quickly as he had +recognized her, who was even more changed. + +For this girl looked like some splendid young blossom that had come to +flower in open woods, and the soldier saw, with mingled pride and +twinging jealousy, that all the boys and men who passed took off their +hats with frank ardor in their eyes. This was such a metamorphosed +Minerva that he fell into shyness and delayed announcing himself until +they had reached the stone gate-posts of the rolling campus, where, +under the maples, the macadam road wound up to the college buildings, +and the old field-gun of civil-war days looked out over the cadets' +drill-ground. + +There he plucked up courage to call in a low voice, "M'nervy!" and at +the mountain pronunciation, coming unexpectedly from behind, the girl +wheeled and stood for a moment, confronting him in a pretty picture of +delight and astonishment, while a warm color stole into her cheeks. + +"Newty!" she cried, as she held out both hands in greeting. "Where in +the world did you spring from?" + +They stood there under the maples for a while, and the boy made her talk +of herself, and, while they talked, a man, wearing the uniform of a +lieutenant of infantry, came down the walk. He was a likeable-looking +fellow, well set-up and soldierly, but very young. From his campaign hat +to his polished puttees, he was new, new like the lately minted coin +that has not long circulated. Lieutenant March was not long from the +"Point," and he was at present stationed here as Commandant at the +University. The sergeant, with his back turned that way, was deep in +conversation with the girl, so that, as he heard a pleasant voice +saying, "How are you, Miss Rawlins," he turned just in time to see the +officer's lifted hat, and to catch the smile on his lips. But his +soldier instinct was now second nature, and in the same glance he saw +the "U.S.A." of the collar-ornaments. + +At once, Sergeant Newt Spooner stood at attention, his heels together +and his hand at his hat-brim in salute. The officer, too, was taking in +those things which military men observe. He saw the service stripes and +the two medals on the breast, and his eyes brightened. As he returned +the salute he cheerily inquired: + +"What command, sergeant?" + +"Fifty-ninth Infantry, sir; late of the 26th Volunteers." + +"Here on leave?" + +"Recruiting detail, sir." + +The officer's eyes were dwelling on the decorated breast. + +"Medal of Honor man," he said. "What service was that, sergeant?" + +The girl, whose less-trained eyes had not recognized the import of the +little metal disc, flushed with pleasure. Newt flushed, too. It irked +him to talk about himself; but the military ethics were ingrained, and +he still stood upright, and answered respectfully, but as briefly as +possible: + +"The islands, sir. Province of Nueva Ecija." When the lieutenant had +gone, the sergeant looked down in an embarrassed fashion at the white +road. + +"Minerva," he said, "I don't know whether it interests you, but I'm +studying pretty hard myself. That's why I asked for this detail. That +and one other reason. I'm only a non-commissioned officer, and you're +almost a school-teacher. I'm on the wrong side of the line, but I've +applied for an examination, and, when this term of enlistment is up I've +got a good chance of a commission." He saw her looking at his medal, and +heard her saying: + +"I should think you would have, Newty." + +"Oh," he hastened to tell her, "I mean that I've got an influential +friend, who's going to help me." + +"Who is that, Newty?" she demanded; and, as he answered, the young +sergeant flushed. + +"The best soldier in the service, Colonel Henry Falkins." + +The girl looked down at the pavement and then up at the tender green of +the maples. Her only reply was a low, "Oh!" but her voice said more, and +presently she added a question: + +"You said, Newty--" her eyes now held a challenging twinkle as she +spoke--"that there was one other reason why you asked for this--what do +you call it?--oh, yes, I know, this detail. What was that reason?" + +The sergeant raised his face, and held her eyes with a steady gaze, +until her own eyes fell, and her cheeks grew more rosy. + +"That reason," he announced boldly, "is that I want plenty of chance to +tell you what the reason is." + + +THE END + + + * * * * * + + +JOHN FOX, JR'S. + +STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS + + +_THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE._ + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree +that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the pine +lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and when he +finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the +_foot-prints of a girl_. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and +the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a madder +chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine." + + +_THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME_ + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." It +is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which often +springs the flower of civilization. + +"Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he +came--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, +seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and +mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming waif, +by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in the +mountains. + + +_A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND._ + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of +moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and the +heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight." Two +impetuous young Southerners' fall under the spell of "The Blight's" +charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in the +love making of the mountaineers. + +Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some of +Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives. + + * * * * * + +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS + +THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY + + +_WITHIN THE LAW._ By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. + +Illustrated by Wm. Charles Cooke. + +This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for +two years in New York and Chicago. + +The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge directed +against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three +years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent. + + +_WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY._ By Robert Carlton Brown. + +Illustrated with scenes from the play. + +This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is suddenly +thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her dreams," where +she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers. + +The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in +theatres all over the world. + + +_THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM._ By David Belasco. + +Illustrated by John Rae. + +This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield, as +Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success. + +The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful, +both as a book and as a play. + + +_THE GARDEN OF ALLAH._ By Robert Hichens. + +This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit +barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness. + +It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has +been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. + + +_BEN HUR._ A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace. + +The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance on a +height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. The +clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect +reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere +of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tremendous dramatic +success. + + +_BOUGHT AND PAID FOR._ By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow. + +Illustrated with scenes from the play. + +A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created an +interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid +in New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor. + +The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments which +show the young wife the price she has paid. + + * * * * * + +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS + +Original, sincere and courageous--often amusing--the kind that are +making theatrical history. + + +MADAME X. By Alexandre Bisson and J. W. McConaughy. Illustrated with +scenes from the play. + +A beautiful Parisienne became an outcast because her husband would not +forgive an error of her youth. Her love for her son is the great final +influence in her career. A tremendous dramatic success. + + +THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. + +An unconventional English woman and an inscrutable stranger meet and +love in an oasis of the Sahara. Staged this season with magnificent cast +and gorgeous properties. + + +THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By Lew. Wallace. + +A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, presenting with extraordinary +power the siege of Constantinople, and lighting its tragedy with the +warm underglow of an Oriental romance. As a play it is a great dramatic +spectacle. + + +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace Miller White. Illust. by Howard +Chandler Christy. + +A girl from the dregs of society, loves a young Cornell University +student, and it works startling changes in her life and the lives of +those about her. The dramatic version is one of the sensations of the +season. + + +YOUNG WALLINGFORD. By George Randolph Chester. Illust. by F. R. Gruger +and Henry Raleigh. + +A series of clever swindles conducted by a cheerful young man, each of +which is just on the safe side of a State's prison offence. As +"Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford," it is probably the most amusing expose of +money manipulation ever seen on the stage. + + +THE INTRUSION OF JIMMY. By P. G. Wodehouse. Illustrations by Will Grefe. + +Social and club life in London and New York, an amateur burglary +adventure and a love story. Dramatized under the title of "A Gentleman +of Leisure," it furnishes hours of laughter to the play-goers. + + * * * * * + +B. M. Bower's Novels + +Thrilling Western Romances + +Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. + +Illustrated + + +_CHIP, OF THE FLYING U_ + +A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Della +Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. Cecil +Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is very +amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher. + + +_THE HAPPY FAMILY_ + +A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen +jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find +Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many lively +and exciting adventures. + + +_HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT_ + +A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners +who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana +ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and +the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities. + + +_THE RANGE DWELLERS_ + +Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. Spirited +action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and Juliet +courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dull +page. + + +_THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS_ + +A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author among the +cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud" +Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim +trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love. + + +_THE LONESOME TRAIL_ + +"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional city +life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with the +atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large brown +eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story. + + +_THE LONG SHADOW_ + +A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a +mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game of +life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from start to +finish. + + * * * * * + +THE NOVELS OF + +STEWART EDWARD WHITE + + +_THE RULES OF THE GAME._ Illustrated by Lajaren A. Hiller + +The romance of the son of "The Riverman." The young college hero goes +into the lumber camp, is antagonized by "graft" and comes into the +romance of his life. + + +_ARIZONA NIGHTS._ Illus. and cover inlay by N. C. Wyeth. + +A series of spirited tales emphasizing some phases of the life of the +ranch, plains and desert. A masterpiece. + + +_THE BLAZED TRAIL._ With illustrations by Thomas Fogarty. + +A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young man who +blazed his way to fortune through the heart of the Michigan pines. + + +_THE CLAIM JUMPERS._ A Romance. + +The tenderfoot manager of a mine in a lonesome gulch of the Black Hills +has a hard time of it, but "wins out" in more ways than one. + + +_CONJUROR'S HOUSE._ Illustrated Theatrical Edition. + +Dramatized under the title of "The Call of the North." + +Conjuror's House is a Hudson Bay trading post where the head factor is +the absolute lord. A young fellow risked his life and won a bride on +this forbidden land. + + +_THE MAGIC FOREST._ A Modern Fairy Tale. Illustrated. + +The sympathetic way in which the children of the wild and their life is +treated could only belong to one who is in love with the forest and open +air. Based on fact. + + +_THE RIVERMAN._ Illus. by N. C. Wyeth and C. Underwood. + +The story of a man's fight against a river and of a struggle between +honesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and shrewdness on the +other. + + +_THE SILENT PLACES._ Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin. + +The wonders of the northern forests, the heights of feminine devotion, +and masculine power, the intelligence of the Caucasian and the instinct +of the Indian, are all finely drawn in this story. + + +_THE WESTERNERS._ A story of the Black Hills that is justly placed among +the best American novels. It portrays the life of the new West as no +other book has done in recent years. + + +_THE MYSTERY._ In collaboration with Samuel Hopkins Adams + +With illustrations by Will Crawford. + +The disappearance of three successive crews from the stout ship +"Laughing Lass" in mid-Pacific, is a mystery weird and inscrutable. In +the solution, there is a story of the most exciting voyage that man ever +undertook. + + * * * * * + +STORIES OF WESTERN LIFE + + +_RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE_, By Zane Grey. + +Illustrated by Douglas Duer. + +In this picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago, we are +permitted to see the unscrupulous methods employed by the invisible hand +of the Mormon Church to break the will of those refusing to conform to +its rule. + + +_FRIAR TUCK_, By Robert Alexander Wason. + +Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood. + +Happy Hawkins tells us, in his humorous way, how Friar Tuck lived among +the Cowboys, how he adjusted their quarrels and love affairs and how he +fought with them and for them when occasion required. + + +_THE SKY PILOT_, By Ralph Connor. + +Illustrated by Louis Rhead. + +There is no novel, dealing with the rough existence of cowboys, so +charming in the telling, abounding as it does with the freshest and the +truest pathos. + + +_THE EMIGRANT TRAIL_, By Geraldine Bonner. + +Colored frontispiece by John Rae. + +The book relates the adventures of a party on its overland pilgrimage, +and the birth and growth of the absorbing love of two strong men for a +charming heroine. + + +_THE BOSS OF WIND RIVER_, By A. M. Chisholm. Illustrated by Frank Tenney +Johnson. + +This is a strong, virile novel with the lumber industry for its central +theme and a love story full of interest as a sort of subplot. + + +_A PRAIRIE COURTSHIP_, By Harold Bindloss. + +A story of Canadian prairies in which the hero is stirred, through the +influence of his love for a woman, to settle down to the heroic business +of pioneer farming. + + +_JOYCE OF THE NORTH WOODS_, By Harriet T. Comstock. Illustrated by John +Cassel. + +A story of the deep woods that shows the power of love at work among its +primitive dwellers. It is a tensely moving study of the human heart and +its aspirations that unfolds itself through thrilling situations and +dramatic developments. + + * * * * * + +CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS + + +_WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE_, By Jean Webster. + +Illustrated by C. D. Williams. + +One of the best stories of life in a girl's college that has ever been +written. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable +and thoroughly human. + + +_JUST PATTY_, By Jean Webster. + +Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. + +Patty is full of the joy of living, fun-loving, given to ingenious +mischief for its own sake, with a disregard for pretty convention which +is an unfailing source of joy to her fellows. + + +_THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL_, By Eleanor Gates. + +With four full page illustrations. + +This story relates the experience of one of those unfortunate children +whose early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, seldom +seeing either parent, and famishing for natural love and tenderness. A +charming play as dramatized by the author. + + +_REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM_, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +One of the most beautiful studies of childhood--Rebecca's artistic, +unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of +austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal +dramatic record. + + +NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that +carry Rebecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday. + + +_REBECCA MARY_, By Annie Hamilton Donnell. Illustrated by Elizabeth +Shippen Green. + +This author possesses the rare gift of portraying all the grotesque +little joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a +pathos that is peculiarly genuine and appealing. + + +_EMMY LOU_, Her Book and Heart, By George Madden Martin. + +Illustrated by Charles Louis Hinton. + +Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real. She +is just a bewitchingly innocent, hugable little maid. The book is +wonderfully human. + + * * * * * + +STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER + + +_THE HARVESTER_ + +Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs + +"The Harvester," David Langston, is a man of the woods and fields, who +draws his living from the prodigal hand of Mother Nature herself. If the +book had nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man, with his +sure grip on life, his superb optimism, and his almost miraculous +knowledge of nature secrets, it would be notable. But when the Girl +comes to his "Medicine Woods," and the Harvester's whole sound, healthy, +large outdoor being realizes that this is the highest point of life +which has come to him--there begins a romance, troubled and interrupted, +yet of the rarest idyllic quality. + + +_FRECKLES._ + +Decorations by E. Stetson Crawford. + +Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he +takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great +Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to +the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The +Angel" are full of real sentiment. + + +_A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST._ + +Illustrated by Wladyslaw T. Brenda. + +The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, lovable type of +the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness +towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of +her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and +unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage. + +It is an inspiring story of a life worth while and the rich beauties of +the out-of-doors are strewn through all its pages. + + +_AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW._ + +Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp. Design and decorations by Ralph +Fletcher Seymour. + +The scene of this charming, idyllic love story is laid in Central +Indiana. The story is one of devoted friendship, and tender +self-sacrificing love; the friendship that gives freely without return, +and the love that seeks first the happiness of the object. The novel is +brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and its pathos +and tender sentiment will endear it to all. + + * * * * * + +MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS + + +_LAVENDER AND OLD LACE._ + +A charming story of a quaint corner of New England where bygone romance +finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of love to +the young people on the staff of a newspaper--and it is one of the +prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old fashioned love stories, * * * a +rare book, exquisite in spirit and conception, full of delicate fancy, +of tenderness, of delightful humor and spontaniety. + + +_A SPINNER IN THE SUN._ + +Miss Myrtle Reed may always be depended upon to write a story in which +poetry, charm, tenderness and humor are combined into a clever and +entertaining book. Her characters are delightful and she always displays +a quaint humor of expression and a quiet feeling of pathos which give a +touch of active realism to all her writings. In "A Spinner in the Sun" +she tells an old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in +solitude and whose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a +mystery at the heart of the book that throws over it the glamour of +romance. + + +_THE MASTER'S VIOLIN._ + +A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German virtuoso +is the reverent possessor of a genuine "Cremona." He consents to take +for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an aptitude for +technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth has led the happy, +careless life of a modern, well-to-do young American and he cannot, with +his meagre past, express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life +and all its happy phases as can the master who has lived life in all its +fulness. But a girl comes into his life--a beautiful bit of human +driftwood that his aunt had taken into her heart and home, and through +his passionate love for her, he learns the lessons that life has to +give--and his soul awakes. + +Founded on a fact that all artists realize. + + * * * * * + +ZANE GREY'S NOVELS + + +_THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS_ + +Colored frontispiece by W. Herbert Dunton. + +Most of the action of this story takes place near the turbulent Mexican +border of the present day. A New York society girl buys a ranch which +becomes the center of frontier warfare. Her loyal cowboys defend her +property from bandits, and her superintendent rescues her when she is +captured by them. A surprising climax brings the story to a delightful +close. + + +_DESERT GOLD_ + +Illustrated by Douglas Duer. + +Another fascinating story of the Mexican border. Two men, lost in the +desert, discover gold when, overcome by weakness, they can go no +farther. The rest of the story describes the recent uprising along the +border, and ends with the finding of the gold which the two prospectors +had willed to the girl who is the story's heroine. + + +_RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE_ + +Illustrated by Douglas Duer. + +A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon +authority ruled. In the persecution of Jane Withersteen, a rich ranch +owner, we are permitted to see the methods employed by the invisible +hand of the Mormon Church to break her will. + + +_THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN_ + +Illustrated with photograph reproductions. + +This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, +known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert +and of a hunt in "that wonderful country of yellow crags, deep canons +and giant pines." It is a fascinating story. + + +_THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT_ + +Jacket in color. Frontispiece. + +This big human drama is played in the Painted Desert. A lovely girl, who +has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young New Englander. The +Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall become the second +wife of one of the Mormons-- + +Well, that's the problem of this sensational, big selling story. + + +_BETTY ZANE_ + +Illustrated by Louis F. Grant. + +This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful +young sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. Life +along the frontier, attacks by Indians, Betty's heroic defense of the +beleaguered garrison at Wheeling, the burning of the Fort, and Betty's +final race for life, make up this never-to-be-forgotten story. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Code of the Mountains, by Charles Neville Buck + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CODE OF THE MOUNTAINS *** + +***** This file should be named 38498.txt or 38498.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/4/9/38498/ + +Produced by Roger Frank, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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