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diff --git a/41772.txt b/41772.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 32fc3d5..0000000 --- a/41772.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5562 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Silent Alarm, by Roy J. Snell - -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 Silent Alarm - A Mystery Story for Girls - -Author: Roy J. Snell - -Release Date: January 4, 2013 [EBook #41772] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SILENT ALARM *** - - - - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images -made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.) - - - - - - - _Adventure Stories for Girls_ - - - - - The - Silent Alarm - - - _By_ - ROY J. SNELL - - - The Reilly & Lee Co. - Chicago - - - _Printed in the United States of America_ - - Copyright, 1926 - by - The Reilly & Lee Co. - _All Rights Reserved_ - - - - - Contents - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I The Prisoner in a Lone Cabin 9 - II Strange Sentries 18 - III A Darting Shadow 41 - IV A Strange Escape 58 - V Safe at Home 69 - VI Confederate Gold 76 - VII Mysterious Footsteps 93 - VIII The Silent Watcher 112 - IX Beyond Forbidden Portals 131 - X A Mysterious People 149 - XI The Guard of the Stone Gateway 166 - XII The Mystery Trail 182 - XIII A Tense Situation 196 - XIV Hallie Kidnapped 212 - XV By the Aid of a Coon 220 - XVI A Perilous Glide 234 - XVII The Last of Her Clan 244 - XVIII The Strange Procession 253 - - - - - THE SILENT ALARM - - - - - CHAPTER I - THE PRISONER IN A LONE CABIN - - -In a cabin far up the side of Pine Mountain, within ten paces of the -murmuring waters of Ages Creek, there stood an old, two roomed log cabin. -In one room of that cabin sat a girl. She was a large, strong girl, with -the glow of ruddy health on her cheeks. - -Her dress, though simple, displayed a taste too often missing in the -Cumberland Mountains of Kentucky, and one might have guessed that she was -from outside the mountains. - -If one were to observe her, sitting there in a rustic splint bottomed -chair; if he were to study her by the flickering firelight, he might have -said: "She is a guest." - -In this he would have been wrong. Florence Huyler was virtually a -prisoner in that cabin. As she sat there dreamily gazing at the -flickering fire, a man did sentry duty outside the door. He seemed asleep -as he sat slouched over in a chair tilted against the cabin, but he was -not. Nor would the occupant of that chair sleep this night. - -Yet, had you said to Florence, "Why do they hold you prisoner here?" she -would have replied: - -"I'm sure I don't know." - -That would have been true, too. - -"What can they want?" she asked herself for the thousandth time as she -sat there watching the coals of her wood fire blink out one by one. "Are -they moonshiners? Do they think I am a secret agent of the revenue men? -Do they want this," she patted a pocket inside her blouse, "or have they -been hired by the big coal company to hold me until the secret of the -railroad is out?" - -When she patted her blouse there had come a crinkling sound. Ten new -fifty dollar bank notes were pinned to the inside of the garment. - -"If that's what they want," she said to herself, "why don't they demand -it and let me go?" - -She shuddered as she rose. The room was cold. She dreaded facing a night -in that cabin. - -Having entered the second room, she closed the door softly behind her, -then sat down upon the edge of the bed. - -After removing her shoes, she glanced up at the smoke blackened ceiling. - -"Hole up there," she mused. "I wonder if.... No, I guess not. Never can -tell, though." - -At once her lithe body was in motion. With the agility of a cat, she -sprang upon a chair, mounted its back, caught the edge of the opening -above and drew herself up into the attic, then dropped noiselessly down -upon a beam. - -"Whew! Dusty," she panted. - -Five minutes later she found herself staring out into the moonlight. At -the upper end of the cabin loft she had found a small door that opened to -a view of the mountain side. Having found this she opened it noiselessly. -It would be an easy matter to hang by her hands, drop to the ground and -then attempt her escape through the brush. This she was about to do when -something arrested her--a very small thing. On a narrow level space where -the grass had been eaten short by cows or wild creatures, three young -rabbits were sporting in the moonlight. - -"Shame to spoil their fun," she whispered to herself. "Time enough." She -seated herself close to the opening. - -A moment later she was thankful for the impulse that caused her to wait. -In an instant, without a sound, the rabbits disappeared into the brush. - -With a little gasp the girl closed the small door. Ten seconds later, by -peering through a crack, she saw a man cross the small clearing. It was -her guard. - -"Thanks, little rabbits," she whispered. "You did me a good turn that -time." - -A moment later the man returned across the patch of short grass and once -more the girl set herself to listening and watching. - -"When the little gray fellows come back to play, I'll risk it," she told -herself. - -As she sat there waiting, feeling the cool caress of the mountain night -air upon her cheek, listening, watching, she allowed her eyes to wander -away to the half dozen little peaks that formed the crest of Pine -Mountain. - -"How dark and mysterious they seem in the night," she thought to herself. -"How--" - -Her meditations were suddenly cut short. Her eyes had caught a yellow -gleam that had suddenly appeared on the very crest of the highest peak of -the mountain. - -"Wha--what can it mean?" she whispered. "It can't be--but it is!" - -Even as she looked, the yellow gleam blinked out for a second, glowed -again, only to vanish, then to glow steadily once more. - -The girl's heart grew warm, her cheeks flushed. Whereas only the moment -before she had felt herself utterly alone in an unknown and hostile -world, now she knew that on the crest of yonder mountain there stood a -friend, her very best friend, Marion Norton. Between her and that peak -lay many a long and tangled trail. What of that? That golden glow spoke -warmly of friendship. - -"The Silent Alarm," she murmured as she hastily drew from her pocket two -dark cylinders. One of the cylinders she placed before her on the window -ledge. The other she grasped at either end, drawing it out to four times -its original length. The thing was a pocket telescope such as is often -carried in the mountains. From the ends of this she unscrewed the lenses. -After that, lying flat upon the dusty floor that was all but level with -the sill of the small shuttered door, she glanced along the tube of the -dismantled telescope. Slowly, surely, as if the thing were a rifle, she -aimed it at the distant yellow gleam. Then, without allowing the tube to -move, she picked up the other shorter one which had all this time rested -on the window sill. Having placed the end of this against the end of the -hollow tube, she pressed a button, and at once a needle point of glowing -light shot forth into the night. The second cylinder was a small but -powerful flashlight. - -"The Silent Alarm," she whispered once more. - -She had kept the small flashlight aimed at the distant yellow flash of -fire less than a moment when, with a suddenness that was startling, the -glow on the distant mountain crest vanished. It was as if someone had -thrown a shovel of earth or a bucket of water upon a small camp fire. - -The little tableau was not at an end. Florence, by moving her hand before -her tube, sent out successive flashes, some short, some long. Now a short -one, now two long ones, now three short; so it went on for some time. - -"The Silent Alarm," she thought. "I only hope she gets it right. She -might try to come to me. That would be too terrible." - -This had scarcely passed her mind when, of a sudden, from that same -distant hillside there gleamed a star. Or was it a star? If a star, then -a tree branch must wave before it, for now it appeared, only to disappear -and reappear again. - -It was no star. At once, with a pencil and a scrap of paper, the girl was -marking down dots and dashes, taking the message being sent by signal -code from the distant mountain crest. - -As she scratched down the last dash, the star vanished, not to reappear. -Once more darkness brooded over the foothills of Pine Mountain and the -somber peaks beyond were lost in the glooms of night. - -For a time, by the steady gleam of her flashlight, the girl studied her -dots and dashes. Then, as she closed her tired eyes for a moment, she -murmured: - -"Oh! I had hoped for a real message, a message that would mean success." - -As she opened her eyes she glanced down to the spot of golden moonlight -on the grass. The rabbits had returned to complete their frolic. - -"Time to try it," she whispered as she drew herself up on her knees. - - - - - CHAPTER II - STRANGE SENTRIES - - -"Thanks, jolly little friends," she whispered to the rabbits. "Sorry to -disturb you, but it really has to be done." - -Clutching at her heart in a vain effort to still its wild beating, she -slid slowly out of the window. A gripping of the beams, a swinging down, -a second of clinging, a sudden drop, a prayer of thanksgiving that her -alighting place was grass cushioned and noiseless, and the next instant -she was lost from sight in the brush whither the three rabbits had fled. - -For a full moment she crouched there motionless, scarcely breathing, -listening intently. - -There came no sound. Her guard was dozing in his chair. - -Her mind was in a whirl. Now that she was free, where should she go? -Where could she go? Home, if she could find the way, or to Everett -Faucet's cabin. Everett lived at the back of the mountain. - -Yes, she might go to either place if only she knew the way. Truth was, -she didn't know the way. She had been carried about on horseback by her -mysterious captors, covering strange trails, and at night. She was lost. -Only one thing she knew--she was still on the back of Pine Mountain. The -way home led up this side of the mountain and down the other. - -A great wave of fear and despair swept over her. The whole affair, she -told herself, was a useless adventure. - -"I'll go back home to our cabin; give it up," she declared. - -She began the upward climb. Beating her way through the brush, she -struggled forward. It was heart-breaking work, making her way through -brush and timber. Here a dense thicket tore at her, and there a solid -wall of rock blocked her progress. - -"Ought to find a trail. Have to," she panted. - -With this in mind, she began to circle the slope. She felt the need of -haste. Night was wearing away. The early morning would soon reveal her, a -lone girl in a strange and apparently hostile country. - -Panic seized her. She fairly flew through the brush until, with a sudden -compact that set her reeling, she came upon a rail fence. - -Beyond the fence was a narrow trail. To her immense relief she found that -this trail wound away up the mountain. - -That mountain trail was the longest she had ever taken. It wound on and -on, up and up until there seemed no end. - -The cool damp of night hung over everything. The moon, swinging low in -the heavens, cast long, deep shadows far down the trail. Now a startled -rabbit, springing into the brush, sent the girl's heart to her mouth. Now -the long-drawn bay of a hound at some distant cabin sent a chill running -up her spine. Frightened, alone, quite without means of protection, she -hurried on. - -Then suddenly, as she rounded a corner, she caught the sound of voices. - -"Men," she said to herself with a shudder. - -The next instant she was silently pushing herself back into the depths of -a clump of mountain ivy that grew beside the trail. - -The men were coming down the trail. Now their voices sounded more -clearly; now she caught the shuffle of their rough shoes, and now heard -the heavy breathing of one as if carrying a load. - -As they came abreast of her, she saw them dimly through the leaves. Then -for a second her heart seemed to stop beating. - -"A dog," she breathed. "A long-eared hound!" - -As the hound, with nose to the ground, came upon the spot where she had -left the trail, he stopped short, gave a loud snort, then started -straight into the bush. - -"Come on, you!" one of the men grumbled, seizing him by the collar. "It's -only a rabbit." - -The dog struggled for a time, but a kick brought him back to his place -behind his master and they traveled on down the hill. - -"Saved!" the girl breathed as she dropped weakly upon the ground. - -"And yet," she thought as strength and courage came back to her, "why -should I fear everyone here behind Pine Mountain?" - -Why indeed? The experiences of the past hours had made fear a part of her -nature. - -Once more upon the trail, she hurried on more rapidly than before. Dawn -was on its way. The jagged peaks of the mountain ahead showed faintly -gray against the dark sky. - -"Have to hurry," she told herself. "Have to--" - -Her thoughts broke short off and once more she sprang from the trail. -Other men were coming. The night seemed filled with them. - -This time, finding herself in a narrow grass grown trail that led away at -an angle from the hard beaten main trail, she hurriedly tiptoed along it. - -"Not another narrow escape like the last one," she thought. - -She had followed this apparently deserted trail for a hundred yards when -suddenly she came upon a cabin. - -Her first thought was to turn and flee. A second look told her that the -place was abandoned. Two panes of glass in the single window were broken -and before the door, displaying their last fiery red blossoms, two -hollyhocks did sentry duty. - -The door stood ajar. For a moment she hesitated before the red sentries. - -"Oh, pshaw!" she whispered at last. "You dear old-fashioned guardians of -a once happy home, I can pass you without cracking a stem or bruising a -blossom." - -Putting out her hands, she parted the tall flowers with gentlest care, -then stepped between them. For this simple ceremony, inspired by her love -of beauty, she was destined in not so many hours to feel supremely -grateful. - -Inside she found a lonesome scene. The moon, shining through the single -window, struck across a rude table. A dark cavern at the end spoke of a -fireplace which once had offered ruddy comfort. - -A ladder leading to the loft stood against the wall. Without thinking -much about it, she climbed that ladder. Somewhat to her surprise, she -found the attic half filled with clean, dry, rustling corn husks. - -"Someone stowed his corn here. Husked the corn and left the husks." - -"How--how comfortable," she sighed as her weary body relaxed upon this -springy bed. - -"I'll rest here for a moment," she thought, "rest here for a--for -a--rest--" - -The next moment she was fast asleep. - -Hours later she awoke with a start. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Then, -catching the rustle of corn husks, she remembered where she was. - -"Must have fallen asleep," she said, a feeling of consternation coming -over her. "And now it is--" She gazed about her questioningly. - -"Now it is daylight," she finished as she noted a bright bar of sunlight -that fell across the floor. "Here I stay until dark." - -Here she remained. Once she left the cabin for a moment to slake her -thirst at a spring that bubbled out of the rocks just back of the house. -Both in coming and going she reverently parted the hollyhocks before the -door. - -"Probably some childish hands spilled the seed that started them growing -there," she told herself. "I wonder where that child may be now?" - -The attic was silent, too silent. In one dark corner a fly, caught in a -spider's web, slowly buzzed his life away. - -There was time now for thinking. And she did think, thought this whole -adventure through from its very beginning. - -It is strange, the unusual opportunities for adventure and romance that -come to one in out-of-the-way places. Florence, with her chum, Marion, -had been invited by Mrs. McAlpin, Florence's aunt, to spend the summer in -the mountains. They had come, expecting fishing, swimming and mountain -climbing. They had found time for these, too; but above all, their summer -had been filled with service, service for those whose opportunities had -been far fewer than their own. - -The one great service they had been able to render had been that of -conducting a summer school for the barefooted, eager little children who -swarmed the sides of Big Black Mountain. It had been a real pleasure to -teach them. Strange to say, though there was a public school at the mouth -of Laurel Branch, little was ever taught in it. The teacher, who knew -nothing of grammar, geography or history, and little enough of "Readin', -'Ritin' and 'Rithmatic," took the school for no purpose save that he -might draw the public money. The school, which was supposed to last six -months, he brought to an end as speedily as possible. If no children came -he could go back to his farm work of putting away his corn crop or -rolling logs to clear land for next year's harvest, and he could do this -and still draw his pay as a teacher. - -The schoolhouse, a great log shack with holes for doors and windows, was -without either doors or windows to keep out the weather. Before the cold -autumn rains the little group of children who came to drone out words -after their disinterested teacher vanished like blackbirds before the -first snow, leaving the teacher free for other things. - -Now all was to be changed--at least the girls hoped so. They had been -teaching the summer school for six weeks when Ransom Turner, a sincere -and ambitious man who had the good of the community at heart, had come to -them proposing that they remain through autumn and early winter and teach -the public school. - -Here was an opportunity to make a real contribution, to set a model for -all time, to give these simple mountain folks an idea of what school -should be. - -"Of course," Ransom Turner had said, "we'll have to elect you a trustee." - -"A trustee!" they had exclaimed in unison, failing to understand his -meaning. - -"Of course. You don't think that worthless scamp that's been drawin' the -pay and not teachin' any could get the job unless he'd elected a trustee, -do you? But leave that to us mounting folks. You jest say you'll take the -school an' we'll elect you a trustee." - -"But the schoolhouse!" Florence had remonstrated. "It's bad enough -now--flies, and all that--but in cold weather it would be impossible." - -Ransom's face had clouded. "Can't be helped none, I reckon. They hain't -no funds fer hit. Doors and windows cost a heap, havin' to be brought in -as they do. Us mounting folks are most terrible poor, most terrible." - -The two girls had considered the proposition seriously. They were not yet -through the University. It seemed a little hard to give up the first half -of their school year. They caught visions of great buildings, swarming -students, laughing faces, books, libraries, all the good things that go -to make University life a joyous affair. Yet here was an opportunity for -an unusual service. Could they afford to refuse? They had talked it over. -In the end Florence had said to Ransom: - -"If you can manage the trustee and we can get some money to fix up the -schoolhouse, we will stay." - -To this Marion had given hearty assent and Ransom Turner had gone away -happy. - -Money for the new school! It had been their desire for just this that had -put Florence in her present strange and mysterious predicament. - -It had been a very unusual proposition that Mr. John Dobson of the Deep -Rock Mining Company had made to them, a proposition that held great -possibilities. - -They had gone to him to ask him to help them with money for the school. -He had told them that his company had no fund for contributions such as -they asked. He had not, however, turned them away entirely without hope. - -"The company, of which I am President," he had said, "is a comparatively -small one. The stock is not owned by any one rich man, or by a group of -rich men. It is owned by a number of men who own a little property and -who hope to improve their position by wise investment. These men look to -me to bring about the success they hope for. Unfortunately, at the -present time we are short of coal lands. The railroad up this way has -been built for several years. The coal land that lies along it has been -bought up by rich companies, principally the Inland Coal and Coke -Company, which is so large that it has come to be looked upon as -virtually a monopoly in these parts. - -"There is but one field left to us." His eyes glanced away to the crest -of Pine Mountain. "At the back of that mountain there is coal, plenty of -it. Land is cheap. At present there is no railroad, but there is a -persistent rumor that the M. and N. proposes to build a spur up that -creek. They will build it. But when?" He had risen to pace the floor of -his small office. "When? That's the question." - -"The directors of the railroad," he had gone on after a long pause, "are -to hold a meeting next week. They may decide upon the spur at that time. -If it is to be built within the next year, there is a tract of land back -here that we want--want badly. It is owned by a man named Caleb Powers. -The price is twenty-one thousand. Needless to say, our rich rival will -want it. They may be able to secure advance information regarding the -coming decision of the Directors of the M. and N. In that case we are -defeated. If they do not, we have a chance. The first person to get to -Caleb Powers after the spur has been decided upon, will get the land." - -Here he had paused and looked Florence squarely in the eye. - -"That's where you come in," he had said steadily. "That is, if you wish -to. I am to be away in another section of the mountains next week--can't -be here. You want money for your school?" He had stared hard at the girl. - -"Y-es, we do." - -"Well then, here's your chance. One of you go back behind Pine Mountain -and there keep in close touch with Caleb Powers. The other must remain -here until news of the decision regarding the proposed spur comes. I will -arrange for a messenger at the rail's end. As soon as the messenger -arrives you must make all haste to reach Caleb Powers. I will give you -the earnest money--five hundred dollars. If the spur is to be built and -you succeed in purchasing the land, I will pay you a commission of ten -percent." - -"Think of it!" Florence had exclaimed. "Twenty-one hundred dollars! All -that for the school!" - -Visions of a warm, cozy school room, brightened by many happy, glowing -faces, passed before her mind's eye. - -"Of course we'll try it," she had said with quiet resolution. - -"Of course," Marion had echoed. - -"And now it has come to this," Florence said to herself as she stirred -upon the rustling corn husks of her bed in the deserted cabin which -formed her temporary hiding place. - -Once more her mind went back to the broken sequence of events. It had -been agreed that she should cross over the mountains and stay with a -friend of Mrs. McAlpin who lived at the back of Pine Mountain. - -"And I will keep you posted by means of the Silent Alarm!" Marion had -exclaimed. - -Until now the Silent Alarm had been little more than a plaything. Now it -was to be of some real use. Florence's older brother, who had been in the -great war, had told her how, by the use of signal lamps, flashlights and -the Continental code he and his comrades had been able to signal to one -another even across a point of the enemy's trenches. He had explained the -matter to her in detail, had also taught her the code. Often at night, -from some distant hillside, with a flashlight and the barrel of a -dismantled shotgun, Florence had signalled to Marion at the cabin. And -Marion, with some similar simple apparatus, had signalled back. - -The simple-minded, superstitious mountain folks, having seen these -strange stars blinking away against the mountain, had whispered weird -tales of witch light and of seeing old women riding a cloud at night. All -this had greatly amused the girls and they kept their secret well. - -"Now," Marion had said to Florence when she started on her mission, "when -you get to your destination back there, I'll climb this side of the -mountain to the crest and we'll get in touch with one another by signal -fires. After that, when the big news comes, I'll climb the mountain -again. If it comes in the daytime I will use a heliograph; if by night, -some form of tube and a flashlight." - -As you have already seen, by the aid of Marion's beacon fire on the -mountain's crest, they had established communications. But under what -unexpected conditions this was done! Florence had been the prisoner of -strange men whose motives in holding her were unknown. This she had -flashed back to Marion. She had added a warning not to try to come to -her. - -Bearing this startling news, Marion had retraced her steps to Mrs. -McAlpin's cabin. - -"And here I am a fugitive," Florence sighed as she sat up among the corn -husks. "A fugitive from whom? And why? The message will come and I will -not be able to deliver it. The coal tract will be lost to the Inland Coal -and Coke Company and our hopes for a schoolhouse will be blighted. - -"But no!" she clinched her fist. "It must not be! There is yet a way!" - -The message did come, a message of great good news. It came on the wings -of the wind, came to Mrs. McAlpin and Marion, late that very afternoon. - -In the meantime, on the mountain-side near the cabin in which Florence -was hiding, strange things were happening. Florence was wondering about -the identity of the rough mountain men who had made her prisoner. Were -they feudists? Or moonshiners suspecting her of being a spy? Or real -spies themselves, employed by the great mining corporation to trap her? -Or were they just plain robbers? - -Such were the thoughts running through her mind when she caught the sound -of a cheery note outside the cabin. It was the _chee-chee-chee, to-wheet, -to-wheet, to-wheet_ of a mountain wren. The song brightened her spirits -and allayed her fears. - -"As long as he keeps up his joyous notes I need have no fear," she told -herself. "The appearance of someone near would frighten him into silence. - -"Dear little friend," she whispered, "how wonderful you are! When human -friends were here you came each year to make your nest in some niche in -their cabin. Now they are gone. Who knows where? But you, faithful to -their dream of happiness, return to sing your merry song among the -ruins." - -Even as she whispered this, her ear caught a far different note, a dread -sound--the long-drawn note of a hound. - -As this grew louder and louder her heart beat rapidly with fear. - -"On my trail," she thought with dread. - -As the sound began to grow fainter she felt sure that the hunters, if -hunters they were, had passed on up over the main trail. Hardly had the -hope been born when it was suddenly dashed aside. The solid thump-thump -of footsteps sounded outside the cabin, then ended. - -For a moment there was silence, such a silence as she had not experienced -in all her days. Flies had ceased to buzz. The little brown wren had -flown away. - -Then a harsh voice crashed into that silence. - -"Reckon she are up thar, Lige?" - -"'T'ain't no ways possible," drawled the second man. "Look at them thar -hollyhocks. Narry a leaf broke. Reckon airy one'd pass through that door -without a tramplin' 'em down?" - -"Reckon not." - -"Better be stirrin' then, I reckon." - -"Reckon so." - -Again came the solid drum of feet. This grew fainter and fainter until it -died away in the distance. - -"Good old hollyhocks! Good little old sentries, how I could hug you for -that!" A tear splashed down upon the girl's hand, a tear for which none -should be ashamed. - -Even as the footsteps of the men died away in the distance, Florence felt -the shadow of the mountain creeping over the cabin. - -"Soon be dark," she breathed, "and then--" - -She was some time in deciding just what should be done. Her first impulse -was to take the up-trail as soon as darkness had fallen and to make her -way back to her friends. - -"But that," she told herself, "means the end of our hopes." - -At once there passed before her closed eyes pictures of brave, laughing -little children of the mountain; ragged, barefooted, pleading children, -walking miles over the frosts of November to attend their school, the -first real school they would have known. - -"No!" She set her teeth hard. "There is still a way. I will wait here for -Marion's signal. It will come. If she has news, good news, somehow I will -find my way to Caleb Powers. Somehow the race must be won!" - - - - - CHAPTER III - A DARTING SHADOW - - -That same evening, just at dusk, Marion came upon a fresh and startling -mystery. She had climbed the hill at the back of the ancient whipsawed -cabin which was occupied by Mrs. McAlpin and her friends. - -Beside the bubbling brook that sang so softly, she had found she could -think calmly. There was reason enough for calm thinking, too. They had -entered into this business of buying the Powell coal tract, expecting -only mild adventure and possibly a large profit. Mysterious things were -happening to Florence. She was sure of that. By the aid of the Silent -Alarm she had received a message from her. The message had warned her to -retreat, to return to the whipsawed cabin and wait. She had obeyed. - -It was indeed very singular. - -"What can have happened?" Marion now asked herself for the hundredth -time. "Wherever she may be, she can hardly be out of reach of the Silent -Alarm. Darkness will find me again on the trail that leads to the crest -of Pine Mountain. - -"She must succeed! Must! Must!" she told herself. "And I must let her -know. I surely must!" - -That very afternoon she had received information of tremendous -importance. - -In the whipsawed cabin was a small radio receiving set. The long twilight -of the mountains often slipped away with a score of mountain people -sitting on the hillside listening to the sweet strains of music that came -from this radio and floated through the open windows. At times, even in -the afternoon, they tuned in on Louisville that they might catch some -news of the outside world. On this particular afternoon, wearied from her -long hike of the previous night, Marion had been lolling half asleep on -the couch when of a sudden she sat upright, wide awake. Her ear had -caught the words, "M. and N. Railroad." - -Here might be important news. It was important, for the announcer, after -a brief pause in which he had perhaps referred to his notes, had gone on: - -"At a meeting to-day of the Board of Directors of the M. and N. Railroad, -it was decided that a spur would be built along the south slope of Pine -Mountain. This work, which is to be rushed to completion within a year, -will tap vast tracks of valuable coal land." - -Marion had risen trembling from the couch. She had wanted to cry, to -laugh, to shout. Here was great news indeed. Coming right in from the -air, it had beyond doubt given them many hours of advantage over their -rival, the agent of the Inland Coal and Coke Company. - -But she had not shouted, nor had she cried nor laughed. She had climbed -the hillside and had stretched out on the leafy slope by the murmuring -brook to think. - -She had decided to wait for darkness. Then she would hurry away over the -four miles that led to the crest of the low mountain. Once there she -would kindle a beacon fire. - -Down deep in her heart she prayed that Florence might catch the gleam of -that fire as she had the one of the night before, and that having caught -her joyous message, she might be free to act. - -"If only it would hurry and get dark!" she whispered to herself. "If only -it would. Then I could slip up there and send the message." - -But what was this? Of a sudden this all important problem was driven from -her mind. From out the clump of mountain ivy that skirted the hill above -the whipsawed cabin there had darted a shadow. - -Who could it be? No mysterious persons were known to be about, but she -could not be sure. Men hid out in these hills--rough, dangerous men who -were wanted by the law. - -The cheery lamplight that suddenly burst forth through the small square -window of the whipsawed cabin below reassured her. There were friends in -that house, her friends Mrs. McAlpin and little Hallie. - -Even as she settled back again to think of their great problems, she was -given another start. Outside the window, into the square of light that -poured forth from it, there had crept the face of a man. It was not a -charming face to behold, but rather an alarming one. Beneath bushy -eyebrows gleamed a pair of beady black eyes. The nose was hawk-like and -the cheeks and chin were covered by a stubby beard. - -It was a face to make one shudder, and Marion did shudder. She drew back -as if to bury herself in the giant chestnut at her back. Even as she did -so she saw the man start, saw an unuttered exclamation spring to his -lips. What had he seen? What had he hoped to see? There was mystery -enough about that whipsawed cabin. Once there had been gold in it--much -gold. Preacher Gibson had hinted that it might still be there. It had -been brought there many years before, just after the Civil War. Jeff -Middleton, who with the help of a neighbor had built the cabin, had died -suddenly in a feud. The gold had vanished. No one, so far as was known, -had ever found it. - -Who was this man at the window? Did he at last have a clue to the -whereabouts of the gold, and had he come to search for it, only to find -the cabin occupied? - -Little Hallie, too, was quite as mysterious as the whipsawed cabin in -which she lived. She had been brought to the cabin door on a stormy -night--a beautiful eight year old child, unconscious from an ugly blow on -her head. While she was being cared for, the man who brought her had -vanished. He had not returned. That was three weeks ago. Efforts to -discover the identity of the child--other than the name "Hallie," which -had come from her own lips--had been unavailing. Her memory appeared to -have gone with the blow on her head. - -Fortunately, Mrs. McAlpin had studied medicine in her younger days. Under -her efficient care Hallie had become the cheery joy of the whipsawed -house. - -Did this mysterious man know something about little Hallie? Or was he -just some wanderer looking for food and shelter? This last seemed the -most probable. - -Yet, as Marion came to this conclusion, she suddenly learned that this -man knew something about one member of the household, for even as she sat -there he passed close enough to touch her, mumbling as he passed: - -"Hit's her. Hit shorely are!" - -The girl's heart went into double-quick time as the man came near to her. -It slowed down very little as he vanished into the night. Questions were -pounding away at her brain. Who was this man? What did he want? To whom -had he referred? To Mrs. McAlpin? To Hallie? - -"Must have been Hallie," she told herself. "And now perhaps he will steal -upon us unawares and carry her away." - -Even as she thought this she felt that it was a foolish fear. Why should -he? - -Then of a sudden, as a new thought struck her, she sprang to her feet. A -cry was on her lips, but it died unuttered. - -It had suddenly occurred to her that if this man knew something about -this mysterious little girl he should be called back and questioned. - -She did not call him back. She was afraid, very much afraid of that man. - -"Anyway," she reassured herself, "he probably didn't mean Hallie at all. -Probably meant Mrs. McAlpin. She's been here three summers, and has been -up every creek for miles around." - -With this as a concluding thought, and having caught the delicious odor -of spring chicken roasting on the hearth, she hurried down to supper. - -As she entered the cabin, Mrs. McAlpin, who was a famous cook, lifted the -lid of the small cast-iron oven that had been buried beneath the hearth -coals for an hour. At once the room was filled with such delectable -fragrance as only can come from such an oven. - -Since the cabin had been purchased by its present owner, it had not been -disfigured by a stove. An immense stone fireplace graced the corner of -each of the four rooms. The cooking was done on the hearth of the room -used as kitchen and dining room. - -"Isn't it wonderful!" Marion exclaimed as she hung her sweater on the -deer's antlers which served as a coat rack. "Just to live like this! To -be primitive as our ancestors were! I shall never forget it, not as long -as I live!" - -Supper was over. Darkness had fallen "from the wings of night" when -Marion slipped alone out of the whipsawed cabin. - -As she entered the shadows that lay across the path that led away from -the cabin, she caught sound of a movement off to the right. - -Her heart skipped a beat, but she did not pause. The message she had to -send could not be longer delayed. And yet, as she hurried on, she could -not help wondering who might have been behind the bushes. Was it the -prowler, he of the beady black eyes and hooked nose, who had peered in at -the cabin window? If it were, what did he want? What did he mean by that -strange exclamation: "Hit's her?" Had he seen Hallie? Did he know her? -Would he attempt to carry her away? She hoped not. The little girl had -become a spot of sunshine in that brown old cabin. - -Two hours later the proceedings of the previous night were being -re-enacted. Marion's beacon fire appeared on the mountain's crest. -Florence caught it at once and flashed back her answer. There followed a -half hour of signaling. At the end of this half hour Florence found -herself sitting breathless among the husks in the cabin loft. - -"Oh!" she breathed. "What news! The railroad is to be built. I wonder if -the land is still for sale?" - -"And I," she exclaimed, squaring her shoulders, "I must be afraid no -longer. Somehow I must find my way down this slope to Caleb Powell's -home. I must buy that land." - -She patted the crinkly bills, five hundred dollars, still pinned to the -inside of her blouse. Then, slipping quickly down the ladder, she stepped -into the cool, damp air of night. - -Yet, even as she turned to go down the mountain, courage failed her. - -Above her, not so far away but that she could reach it in an hour, hung -the mountain's crest. Dim, dark, looming in the misty moonlight, it -seemed somehow to beckon. Beyond it, down the trail, lay home, her -mountain home, and loving friends. - -She had experienced thus far only distrust, captivity without apparent -cause, the great fear of worse things to come. - -"No," she said, "I can't go back." Her feet moved slowly up the trail. - -"And yet I must!" She faced the other way. "I can't go back and say to -them, 'I have no money for the school. I went on a mission and failed -because I was afraid.' No, No! I can't do that." - -Then, lest this last resolve should fail her, she fairly ran down the -trail. - -She had hurried on for fully fifteen minutes when again she paused, -paused this time to consider. What plan had she? What was she to do? She -did not know the way to the home of her friend, nor to the home of Caleb -Powell. Indeed, she did not so much as know where she was. How, then, was -she to find Caleb Powell? - -"Only one way," she told herself. "I must risk it. At some cabin I must -inquire my way." - -Fifteen minutes later she found herself near a cabin. A dim light shone -in the window. For a moment she hesitated beside the footpath that led to -its door. - -"No," she said at last, starting on, "I won't try that one." - -She passed three others before her courage rose to the sticking point. At -last, realizing that the evening was well spent and that all would soon -be in bed, she forced herself to walk boldly toward a cabin. A great -bellowing hound rushed out at her and sent her heart to her mouth. The -welcome sound of a man's voice silenced him. - -"Who's thar?" the voice rang out. - -"It's--it's I, Florence Huyler." The girl's voice trembled in spite of -her effort to control it. - -"Let's see." The man held a candle to her face. "Step inside, Miss." - -"It--I--I can't stop," she stammered, "I--I only wanted to ask where -Caleb Powell lives." - -"Hey, Bill," the man turned to someone within the cabin. "Here's that -girl we was lookin' for this evenin'." - -"Naw 't'ain't. Don't stand to reason." The man's feet came to the floor -with a crash. The girl's heart sank. She recognized the voices of the -men. They were the men who had visited the deserted cabin. The hollyhock -sentinel had done their bit, but all to no purpose. She was once more -virtually a prisoner. - -"Guess you come to the wrong cabin, Miss. We are plumb sorry, but hit are -our bond an' duty to sort of ask you to come in and rest with we-all a -spell. Reckon you ain't et none. Hey, Mandy! Set on a cold snack for this -here young lady." - -Florence walked slowly into the cabin and sank wearily into a chair. Her -head, which seemed suddenly to grow heavy, sank down upon her breast. She -had meant so well, and this was what fate had dealt her. - -Suddenly, as she sat there filled with gloomy thoughts, came one gloomier -than the rest--a thought as melancholy as a late autumn storm. - -"Why did we not think of that?" she almost groaned aloud. - -She recalled it well enough now. Mrs. McAlpin had once told her of the -queer mixing of titles to land which existed all over the mountains. In -the early days, when land was all but worthless, a man might trade a -thousand acres of land for a yoke of oxen and no deed given or recorded. -"Why," Mrs. McAlpin had said, "when I purchased the little tract on which -this cabin stands I was obliged to wait an entire year before my lawyer -was able to assure me of a deed that would hold." - -"A year!" Florence repeated to herself. "A year for a small tract! And -here we are hoping to purchase a tract containing thousands of acres -which was once composed of numerous small tracts. And we hope to get a -deed day after to-morrow, and our commission a day later." She laughed in -spite of herself. - -"If we succeed in making the purchase, which doesn't seem at all likely, -Mr. Dobson may be two years getting a clear title to the land. Will he -pay our commission before that? No one would expect it. And if we don't -get it before that time what good will it do our school?" - -"No," she told herself, facing the problem squarely, "there must be some -other way; though I'll still go through with this if opportunity offers." - -In her mental search for "some other way" her thoughts returned to the -ancient whipsawed house on Laurel Branch. She had heard old preacher -Gibson's story of Jeff Middleton's return from the Civil War with a great -sack of strange gold pieces. - -"Hit's hid som'ers about that ar whipsawed cabin," the tottering old -mountain preacher had declared, "though whar it might be I don't rightly -know. Been a huntin' of it right smart o' times and ain't never lit onto -narry one of them coins yet." - -"If only we could find that gold," Florence told herself, "all would be -well. That is, if we win the election--if we elect our trustee." - -She smiled a little at this last thought; yet it was no joking matter, -this electing a trustee back here in the Cumberlands. Many a grave on the -sun kissed hillsides, where the dogwood blooms in springtime and ripe -chestnuts come rattling down in the autumn, marks the spot where some -lusty mountaineer lies buried. And it might be written on his tombstone, -"He tried to elect a trustee and failed because the other man's pistol -gun found its mark." Elections are hard fought in the Cumberlands. Many a -bitter feud fight has been started over a school election. - -Surely, as she sat there once more a prisoner, held by these mysterious -mountaineers, there was enough to disturb her. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - A STRANGE ESCAPE - - -Morning came at last. Florence stirred beneath the home woven covers of -her bed in the mountain cabin. Then she woke to the full realization of -her position. - -"A prisoner in a cabin," she groaned. "And yet they do not treat me -badly. For my supper they set on the table the best they had. It meant a -real sacrifice for them to give up this entire room to me, yet they did -it. I can't understand it." - -"But I must not let them defeat me!" She brought her feet down with a -slap upon the clean scrubbed and sanded floor. "Somehow, by some means or -another, I must make my way to Caleb Powell's home to-day." - -Her eyes lighted upon an object that hung above the fireplace--a long -barreled squirrel rifle with a shiny new cap resting beneath the hammer. -"Loaded," she thought. "Cap wouldn't be there if it wasn't. They left it -hanging there because I am a girl and they were certain I couldn't shoot. -Hump! I can shoot as straight as any of them." - -For a moment a wild vision whirled before her--a vision of a girl -bursting from a room, yelling like a wild Indian and brandishing the long -rifle above her head. - -"No," she smiled. "'Twouldn't do. It would be very dramatic, but it would -probably end in tragedy, and I have no desire to act a part in such a -tragedy." - -She dressed quickly, then stepped into the other room of the cabin where -she found crisp, brown biscuits, wild honey and fried eggs awaiting her. - -She ate a hearty breakfast. "Who knows what strength I may need for this -day?" she thought to herself as she spread honey on her third biscuit. - -After that, knowing from past experiences what her limitations would be, -she did not attempt to go many steps from the cabin but contented herself -with sitting outside the cabin door in the sun. - -"Such a lovely scene," she sighed as she looked away and away to where -the peaks of Pine Mountain blended with the bluer peaks of Big Black -Mountain, and all at last were lost in the hazy mists of the morning. - -"So peaceful," she thought, "you'd think there had never been a bit of -trouble since the world began. And yet, right down here in the mountains -there is more trouble than anywhere else in the country. Some men say -that Nature, God's open book, will make men good and kind. It takes more -than that. It takes--it must take God inside their hearts to accomplish -that." So she mused, and half the morning slipped away. - -From time to time her eyes left the mountain tops to follow the winding -stream that, some fifty feet down a gentle slope, went rushing and -tumbling over its rocky bed. Above and beyond this creek bed, at the -other side of the gorge, ran a trail. Down that trail from time to time -people passed. Now a woman, leading a lean pack horse laden with corn, -shambled along on her way to mill. Now a pair of active, shouting boys -urged on a team of young bullocks hitched to a sled, and now a bearded -mountaineer, with rifle slung across his saddle horn, rode at a dog trot -down the dusty trail. - -The girl watched all this with dreamy eyes. They meant nothing to her; -were, in fact, but a part of the scenery. - -Still she watched the trail, taking little interest in the people passing -there until suddenly she came to life with surprising interest. A person -of evident importance was passing up the trail. He sat upon a blooded -sorrel horse, and across the pommel of his saddle was a rifle. - -"Who is that?" Florence asked, interested in the way this man sat his -horse. - -"That? Why, that are Caleb Powell." Her guard, who sat not far from her, -had also spoken without thinking. - -"Caleb Powell!" The girl sprang to her feet. In an instant her two hands -were cupped into a trumpet and she had sent out a loud call. - -"Whoo-hoo!" - -Caught by rocky walls, the call came echoing back. The man on the blooded -horse turned his gaze toward the cabin. - -"Here, you can't do that away!" The guard put a rough hand on her -shoulder. - -"I can, and I will!" The girl's tone was low and fierce. "You take your -hands away from me, and keep them off!" She jerked away. "I came back -here to see him. He's a man, a real man, and he--he's got a rifle." - -Cowering, the man fell back a step. - -Again the girl's hands were cupped. - -"Mr. Powell! Come over!" she called. "I have something important to tell -you." - -The man reined in his horse, stared across the gorge in apparent -surprise, then directed his horse down a narrow path that led down one -side of the gorge and up the other. - -Standing there, leaning against the doorpost, the girl watched him with -all the fascination that a condemned man must feel as he sees a man -approaching with a message commuting his sentence. - -The man who, a few minutes later, came riding up the steep trail to the -cabin, was quite as different from the average mountaineer as Florence -had, at a distance, judged him to be. His face was smooth shaven and his -gray suit, his tie, his leggings, his riding boots, all were in good -order. When at last he spoke it was not in the vernacular of the -mountains, but of the wide world outside. - -"You--you have some coal land?" she hesitated as he asked what he might -do for her. - -"Why, yes, little girl," he smiled as he spoke. "My brothers and I have -several acres up these slopes." - -Florence stiffened at his "little girl." She realized that he had used -the term in kindness, but he must not think of her as a little girl. She -was for a moment a business woman with an important transaction to carry -through. - -"You want to sell it?" she said briskly. - -"We have offered to sell." - -"For twenty-one thousand?" - -"About that." He was staring at her now. He stared harder when she said: -"I am authorized to buy it at that price." - -For a moment he did not speak; just kept his keen grey eyes upon her. - -"I am waiting," he said at last in a droll drawl, "for the smile." - -"The--the smile?" - -"Of course, you are joking." - -"I am not joking." She was tempted to be angry now. "Here--here's the -proof. It's the--Mr. Dobson called it the earnest money." She dragged the -five hundred dollars in bank notes from her blouse. - -For ten seconds after that her heart fluttered wildly. What if this whole -affair were a game played by these men at her expense? What if this man -was not Caleb Powell at all? The thought of the consequences made her -head whirl. - -But no, the guard of a half hour before was staring, popeyed, at the -sheaf of bills. - -"That looks like business," said Caleb Powell. "Your Mr. Dobson--I know -him well. So he made you his agent? Well, well! That's singular. But men -do strange things. I suppose he sent a contract?" - -"Yes, yes." She was eager now. "Here it is." - -"Well," he said quietly. - -Then turning to the former guard, he said; "You'll not be wanting -anything further of the girl, Jim?" - -"Reckon not," the man drawled. - -"Then, Miss--er--" - -"Ormsby," she volunteered. - -"Then, Miss Ormsby, if you'll be so kind as to mount behind me, I'll take -you down to the house. We'll fix up the papers. After that we'll have a -bite to eat and I'll send you over the mountain." - -The hours that followed were long-to-be-remembered. The signing of the -papers, the talk on the cool veranda, a perfect dinner, then the long, -long ride home over the mountains on a perfect horse with a guide and -guard at her side, and all this crowned by the consciousness of a -wonderful success after days of perils and threatened failure; all these -seemed a dream indeed. - -One thing Florence remembered distinctly. She had said to Caleb Powell: - -"Mr. Powell, why did those men wish to hold me prisoner?" - -"Miss Ormsby," he said, and there was no smile upon his lips, "some of -our people are what you might call 'plumb quare'." - -That was all he had said, and for some time to come that was all she was -destined to know about the reason for her mysterious captivity. - -Only one thought troubled her as she neared the whipsawed cabin, and -that, she told herself, was only a bad dream. - -That it was more than a dream she was soon to learn. Two days later Mr. -Dobson, having dismounted at their cabin, smiled with pleasure when he -was told of the successful purchase of Caleb Powell's coal land. Then for -a moment a frown darkened his face. - -"I--I hate to tell you," he hesitated. - -"You don't have to," said Florence quickly. "Please allow me to guess. -You were about to tell us that it is necessary to spend a great deal of -time looking up records and getting papers signed before you have a clear -title to this mountain land, and that we can't have our money until you -have your title." - -"That puts it a little strongly," said Mr. Dobson, smiling a little -strangely. "As fast as we can clear up the titles to certain tracts my -company has authorized me to pay that portion of the commission. I should -say you ought to have your first installment within four months. It may -be six, however. Matters move slowly here in the mountains." - -"Four months!" exclaimed Marion. - -"Not sooner, I fear." - -"Four--" Marion began, but Florence squeezed her arm as she whispered; -"It's no use. We can't help it and neither can they? There must be some -other way. Besides, we haven't yet elected our trustee." - - - - - CHAPTER V - SAFE AT HOME - - -That night, for the first time in many days, Florence found herself ready -to creep beneath the hand woven blankets beside her pal. Ah, it was good -to feel the touch of comfort and the air of security to be found there. -What did it matter that after all the struggle and danger she had found -her efforts crowned only by partial success? Time would reveal some other -way. New problems beckoned. Let them come. Life was full of problems, and -solving them is life itself. - -The whipsawed house in which the girls lived had been built more than -sixty years before. The heavy beams of its frame and the broad thick -boards of its sheeting inside and out had been sawed by hand from massive -poplar logs. - -The walls of the room in which the girls slept were as frankly free of -paint or paper as when the boards were first laid in place. But time and -sixty summers of Kentucky mountain sunshine had imparted to every massive -beam and every broad board such a coat of deep, mellow, old gold as any -millionaire might covet for his palace. - -Heavy, hand-cut sandstone formed the fireplace. Before this fireplace, on -a black bearskin, in dream-robes and dressing gowns, sat the two girls -curled up for a chat before retiring. - -Then it was that Marion told of the mysterious stranger who had peered in -at the window at dusk. - -"That's strange," said Florence as a puzzled look knotted her brow. "Who -could he have meant when he said, 'Hit's her'? Could he have meant Mrs. -McAlpin?" - -"Maybe. She's been around doctoring people a great deal. He might have -seen her somewhere; might even have needed her services for his family -and been too timid to ask for it. You know how these mountain folks are. -But--" Marion paused. - -"But you don't believe it was Mrs. McAlpin," prompted Florence, leaning -toward the fire. "Neither do I. I believe it was little Hallie, and I -don't like it." - -"Neither do I," said Marion with a sudden dab at the fire that sent the -sparks flying. "I--I suppose we ought to want her identity to be -discovered, want her returned to her people, but she's come to mean so -much to us. She's a dashing little bit of sunshine. This place," her eyes -swept the bare brown walls, "this place would seem dreary without her." - -"Marion," said Florence, "will we be able to elect our trustee?" - -"I don't know." - -"Al Finley and Moze Berkhart taught the school last year. They taught a -month or two; then when it got cold they discouraged the children all -they could, and when finally no one came they rode up and looked in every -day, then rode home again, and drew their pay just the same." - -"We wouldn't do that." - -"No, we wouldn't. We'd manage somehow." - -"Marion," said Florence after they had sat in silence for some time, -their arms around each other, "this building belongs to Mrs. McAlpin, -doesn't it?" - -"Surely. She bought it." - -"And everything inside belongs to her?" - -"I suppose so." - -"Old Jeff Middleton's gold--if it's here?" - -"I suppose so." - -"Then, if we found the gold we could use it to buy repairs for the -schoolhouse, couldn't we?" - -"Yes," laughed Marion, "and if the moon is really made of green cheese, -and we could get a slice of it, we might ripen it and have it for -to-morrow's dinner." - -"But preacher Gibson thinks it's hidden somewhere about here. He saw it, -over sixty years ago. When Jeff Middleton came home from the war he came -from Georgia driving a white mule hitched to a kind of sled with a box on -it, and on the sled, along with some other things, was a bag of gold. Not -real coins, Preacher Gibson said, but just like them; 'sort of queer-like -coins,' that's just the way he said it. There wasn't anything to spend -gold for back here in the mountains in those days. He built this house, -so he must have hidden the gold here. He lived here until he was killed. -The gold must still be here." - -"Sounds all right," said Marion with a merry little laugh, "but I imagine -the schoolhouse windows will have to be patched with something other than -that gold. And besides--" she rose, yawning, "we haven't even got the -positions yet." - -"You don't think they'd refuse to hire us? Just think! Those boys who -tried to teach last year couldn't even do fractions, and there wasn't a -history nor a geography in the place!" - -"You never can tell," said Marion. - -In this she was more right than she knew. - -A moment later Florence crept beneath the homewoven blankets. A little -while longer Marion sat dreamily gazing at the darkening coals. Then, -drawing her dressing gown tightly about her, she stepped to the door and -slipped out. Like most mountain homes, the door of every room in the -cabin opened onto the porch. - -Stepping to the edge of the porch, she stood there, bathed in moonlight. -The night was glorious. Big Black Mountain, laying away in the distance, -seemed the dark tower of some clan of the giants. Below, and nearer, she -caught the reflection of the moon in a placid pool on Laurel Branch, -while close at hand the rhododendrons wove a fancy border of shadows -along the trail that led away to the bottom lands. - -As the girl stood drinking in the splendor of it all, she gave a sudden -start, then shrank back into the shadows. Had she caught the sound of -shuffled footsteps, of a pebble rolling down the steep trail? She thought -so. With a shudder she stepped through the door, closed it quickly, and -let the heavy bar fall silently into place. Then, without a word, she -crept beneath the covers. As an involuntary shudder seized her she felt -her companion's strong arms about her. So, soothed and reassured, she -rested there for a moment. She and Florence had been pals for many long -months. Strange and thrilling were the mysteries they had solved, the -adventures they had experienced. What would the morrow bring? More -mystery, greater adventures? At any rate, they would face them together, -and with these thoughts her eyes closed in dreamless sleep. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - CONFEDERATE GOLD - - -"So you're thinking of going into politics?" - -Ralph Cawood, a frank-faced college boy of the mountains, who had become -a friend of the two girls, brushed the tangled locks from his eyes and -laughed a merry laugh as he repeated, "Going into politics! You two -girls!" - -"I didn't say that," said Marion with a frown and an involuntary stamp of -her foot. "Teaching school isn't going into politics, is it?" - -"You just better believe it is! Anyway, it is if you're to teach here in -the mountains and draw your pay from the State. You'll have to elect you -a trustee, that's what you'll have to do. It's always done. And believe -me, that calls for a right smart of a scrap!" - -"But Ralph!" Marion exclaimed. "Don't you know we've nearly finished -college, that we are better qualified than most of the teachers in the -Mountain Academy at Middlesburg, and that the teachers they've had before -scarcely knew how to read and write?" - -"Yes," said Ralph, his face suddenly growing sober, "they know all that, -and more. But think of the money! This school at the mouth of Laurel -Branch pays over seven hundred dollars. Last year Al Finley was head -teacher. He paid his assistant twenty dollars a month. School lasts six -months. That left him nearly six hundred for six months work, and he -didn't work half the time at that. If he'd worked at freighting, logging -or getting out barrel staves, he couldn't have earned that much in two -years." - -"But the children!" - -"Yes, I know," said Ralph still more soberly, "but nobody thinks of them; -at least not enough. I never got much good out of country school. Nobody -expects to. My brother, who'd been outside to school, taught me." - -"But why shouldn't they get good out of it? What do they think the school -is for?" Marion's brow was knit in a puzzled frown. - -"For drawing the State's money, I guess. Anyway, that's what it's always -been for. But you just go ahead," he added cheerfully. "Try it out. See -if you can elect you a trustee. Ransom Turner is for you from the start, -and he counts for a lot. A good many folks believe in him." - -"We'll do it!" said Marion. Her lips were set in straight lines of -determination. "If we must go into politics in order to do the right -thing, we will!" - -It was a daring resolve. Life surely is strange at times. Very often the -thing we did not want yesterday becomes the one thing we most desire -to-day. It was so with Marion and the winter school. There had been a -time when it took a hard fight to bring her mind to the sticking point -where she could say: "I'll stay." Now she suddenly resolved that nothing -but defeat could drive her away. - -And yet, as she sat quietly talking to Florence a half hour later, the -whole situation seemed incredible. It seemed beyond belief that men could -be so selfish as to draw the money that rightfully belonged to their -children and to their neighbors' children, with no notion of giving any -service in return for it. - -If the girls lacked proof that there would be a fight, they were not long -in finding it. - -"We'll go down to Ransom Turner's store, and ask him about it," said -Florence. - -"Yes, he'll tell us straight." - -Before they reached Ransom's store they learned much. News travels fast -in the mountains. This was mill day. All the mountain folks were at the -mouth of the creek with their grist of corn to be ground into meal for -corn bread. Some on horse back, some on foot, and one or two driving -young bullocks hitched to sleds, they came in crowds. One and all talked -of the coming school election and how Al Finley and his political backer, -Black Blevens, were likely to have a race worthy of the name. Ralph had -told someone of his talk with Marion. That person had told two others; -these others had carried the news to the mill. Now all knew and already -they were lining up, on this side or that, for the coming battle. - -As the girls passed through group after group, they felt that the very -atmosphere about them had changed. It was as if a threatening storm hung -over the mountain top. Everyone smiled and spoke, but there was a -difference. One could scarcely tell what it was; perhaps an inflection of -the voice, perhaps the tightening of the muscles about the mouth. -Whatever it was, Marion, who was a keen student of human nature, felt -that she could say almost to certainty: "That one is for us; this one -against us." - -There were few doubtful ones. Mountain folks are quick to make decisions -and slow to change them. - -A little lump came to Marion's throat as she realized that the people -they passed were about evenly divided. - -"And to think," she whispered with a little choke down deep in her -throat, "only yesterday they were all so cordial. They praised us for the -education we were giving their children. They've all asked us out to -dinner many times. 'Come and stay a week'--that's what they said." - -"Yes," Florence smiled without bitterness, "but this summer we have been -teaching their children for nothing. We are about to ask them to let -their State pay us the money coming to them for teaching their winter -school. Black Blevens has always controlled that. He's unprincipled, but -he's rich and powerful as mountain folks go. He's given work to many of -these people when they needed it badly. Many of them are kin to -him--belong to his clan. As they would say, they are 'beholden' to him. -Whatever his battle is, they must fight it. They're living back in the -feudal days. And that," said this big strong girl, swinging her arms on -high, "is what makes me love it. I'd like to have been born a knight in -those good old days. - - "'Scotts wha hae wi' Wallace bled, - Scotts wham Bruce has aften led, - Welcome to your gory bed, - Or to victory!'" - -She threw back her head and laughed. "I'm going to get out my 'Lady of -the Lake' and my 'Lays of the Last Minstrels' to-night. And in the fight -that lies before us I'm going to live over those days of old." - -"'What! Warder Ho! Let the portcullis fall'," Marion murmured with a -smile. "Here's Ransom Turner's store. 'Dismount, and let's within'!" - -The low board shack which they entered did little to carry forward the -illusion of castles, moats and drawbridges. From within, instead of the -clang of armor, there came the sound of a hammer bursting in the head of -a barrel of salt pork. - -The man who stepped forward to greet them carried little resemblance to a -knight of old. Ransom Turner was a small man, with close cropped hair and -grimy hands. And yet, who can judge the strength and grandeur of a soul? -There was a steady, piercing fire in the little man's eyes that was like -the even flow of an electrical current through a white hot wire. - -"Heard what you said to Ralph this mornin'," he said quietly. "Reckon -that means right smart of a scrap, but I ca'culate we'll lick Black -Blevens and his crowd this time. Leastwise, it looks thataway. Folks have -took to believin' in Mrs. McAlpin, an' in you two--took to it a heap. - -"But looka here," he drew them off into a corner. "Don't you think hit's -goin' to be easy! Talk about Brimstone Corner! Hit'll be worse 'an that -afore hit's finished! Gun play, like as not, and people drove off into -the hills. Mortgages foreclosed on 'em as don't aim to vote to suit old -Black Blevens. But you'll stay? You ain't afeared, be y'?" The fire -seemed to fairly shoot from his pale blue eyes. - -"No," Florence said quietly, "we're not afraid." - -"That's right. You needn't be. You don't never need to be. There's -mounting folks, an' heaps of em', as would leave their firesides an' -fight for them that comes here to help their children out of the -ignorance we're all in. You believe that, don't you?" - -"We do," said Florence. The sound of her voice was as solemn as it had -been the day she joined the church. - -As the two girls left the store they felt exactly as they might have done -had they been living hundreds of years ago, and had come from a -conference with their feudal lords. - -"Do you know," whispered Florence as they passed around the corner and -out of sight, "I believe I'm going to like it. Fighting just because -you're naturally quarrelsome is disgraceful. But fighting for a cause, -that you may help those who are weaker than yourself, that's glorious." -She flung her arms wide, "That--" - -She stopped short. Only by a narrow margin had she escaped enfolding in -those outflung arms a curious little old man who had just emerged from a -bypath. - -Dressed in loose-fitting homespun jacket and trousers, with shoes that -were two sizes too large and hard enough to stand alone either side up, -and with a home tanned squirrel skin cap that had shrunken to half its -size in the first rain it encountered, this man formed a ludicrous -figure. - -The girls did not laugh. This was Preacher Gibson. "Uncle Billie" many -called him. He it was who had told them of old Jeff Middleton. - -"Ho-Ho! Here you are!" he exclaimed. "I been lookin' for you all. I got a -notion about that ar gold. Hit war Confederate gold that old Jeff brought -back from the war. Reg'lar old Confederate gold hit war fer sure." - -"But Uncle Billie, how do you know the Confederates coined any gold -money?" - -"Pshaw, child!" Uncle Billie looked at her in shocked surprise. "Didn't -Jeff Davis take the mint at New Orleans? An' waren't there a power of -gold in that there mint? Hain't there powers of hit in all them mints? In -course of reason there are. Hit's what mints are for." - -"But Uncle Billie, Jeff Middleton wasn't a Confederate soldier, was he?" - -"Never hearn that he were," Uncle Billie's face fell for a moment. Then -his countenance brightened. "But you can't never tell 'bout folks, kin -you? Jeff came home dressed in brown homespun and drivin' a mule hitched -to a sled, the all-firedest kickin' mule you ever seed, and on that ar -sled war that sack of quare gold. Jeff was plum quare hisself. Who knows -but he fit the Union arter all, and got that ar gold fer his pay?" - -"That doesn't seem very likely," said Marion. "The Confederate soldiers -weren't paid when the war ended. But the gold might have been plunder. -Jeff may have been a Union soldier with Sherman on his march to the sea. -There was plenty of plunder then." - -"So he might. So he might," agreed Uncle Billie. - -He sat down upon a flat rock and appeared to lose himself in deep -thought. - -"Do you know," he exclaimed, leaping to his feet, "if you all had that -gold right now you could do a power of good!" - -"Sure we could," agreed Florence. "We could have the schoolhouse windows -and doors put in." - -"Yes," Uncle Billie said, with a scratch of his wooly head, "but -'t'wouldn't be no use unless you come out on top in that ar school -election. I'll tell you," he moved close and whispered in the girl's ear. -"There's some no 'count folks livin' up on Shader Branch that's mighty -nigh got no sense. Them folks allus sells their vote to the one that pays -'em most. If'n we had that ar gold we'd put a piece whar they all could -find it and they'd come down an' vote fer our trustee." - -"Oh no, we wouldn't!" said Florence emphatically. "That's bribery. It's -unlawful." - -"Why, so it is," agreed Uncle Billie, "but so's a heap more of things." - -"Anyway, we wouldn't buy a vote," said Florence. "Not if we had all the -gold in the world. Our trustee will have to win fair and square, or not -at all." - -"Most likely hit'll be not at all," grumbled Uncle Billie as he went -stamping away. It was plain enough that he did not understand that fine -point of ethics. - -Above the whipsawed cabin, a few hundred paces up the side of Little -Black Mountain, a brook emerged from the dark shadows of its closely -thatched roof of rhododendrons. Coming in shadows from ice cold springs -above, the waters of this brook were always chilled. As they rushed -downward toward the river they spread about them a refreshing coolness -that defied the hottest summer sun. - -Beside this brook, Marion loved to sit and think. The feel of the cool, -damp air was like the touch of a calm personality, the murmur of the -brook was like the voice of a calm, counselling friend. - -On the evening of the day into which so much surprise and excitement had -been crowded, she took little Hallie by the hand and together they -scrambled up the steep mountain side until, flushed and quite out of -breath, they threw themselves down on a bed of moss beside the cool -stream. - -Hallie did not remain long in repose. Restless as a bee, she was soon up -and away. First she chased a chipmunk to his rocky lair, then she busied -herself in the engrossing task of hunting the peculiar "sang" leaf which -might mark the hiding place of a treasure of ginsing roots. Dressed as -she was in a bright yellow dress, she reminded Marion of a yellow -butterfly flitting from leaf to leaf, from blossom to blossom. - -All too soon she was quite forgotten, for as the shadows lengthened -Marion thought of the problems and possibilities that lay before them. -They had decided to help elect a school trustee. Ransom Turner would run. -Many people believed in him. Were there enough to elect him? She hoped -so, yet she doubted. Florence had said they would not buy votes, and they -would not. But how about Black Blevens? He would force men to vote for -him as trustee. He would use every means, fair or foul, to win. "And what -of the free school we are teaching now?" she thought. "Will he try to -interfere with that?" She decided it would be well to be on guard. - -"Surely," she thought to herself, "there are thrills and adventures -enough to be had down here in the Cumberlands. Yes, and mystery as -well--even the mystery of Confederate gold." - -She was thinking of Uncle Billie Gibson and what he had said about the -gold that haunted the whipsawed house. She found it hard to believe that -the Confederate States had coined gold, and harder still to think that -there might be a quantity of it hidden away in the old house. - -"But if there should be," she caught her breath, "if we should find it! -Each coin would be worth a fabulous sum. Every museum in the country -would want one, and every private collector. If it were only true," she -whispered low, and the brook seemed to murmur, "true, true, true." - -Then of a sudden, rudely awakened from her dreams, she sprang to her -feet. A piercing scream had struck her ears. This was followed by another -and yet another. - -"Hallie!" she exclaimed, too frightened to move. "Hallie! What can have -happened to her?" - -At that instant there flashed before her mind a picture of a face in a -square of light, an ugly face with bushy eyebrows, unshaven cheeks and -beady eyes--the face of the strange man she had seen at the cabin window. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - MYSTERIOUS FOOTSTEPS - - -Scarcely a moment had elapsed after Hallie's last scream when she sprang -sobbing into Marion's arms. Without a question regarding the cause of her -fright, the older girl gathered her up and went racing down the mountain. -It was a headlong flight. Now they were in danger of a plunge down the -steep slope, and now, having stepped upon a round pebble, Marion rolled -twice her length to land against a stout sapling that saved them from -dashing over a cliff. Yet, somehow, at last they found themselves safe in -Marion's room, seated by the fire, with the door securely bolted behind -them. Then, and only then, did Hallie cease her sobbing to sit staring -round-eyed at the fire. - -"What frightened you?" Marion asked. - -"A man," the little girl shuddered. - -"Did he try to catch you?" Marion was eager now. She was sure she could -describe that man. - -"No. He only stood and stared at me." - -"Then why were you afraid?" - -"He was a very ugly man, and--and it seemed like I had seen him before -in--in--" she hesitated, "maybe in a bad dream." - -"Oh!" Marion was excited. Perhaps here was a clue to the little girl's -lost identity. Perhaps she had seen the man before in that other life -lived before the blow on her head. - -"If only I could find that man, perhaps he could tell me," she told -herself. Yet she knew right well that nothing could induce her to return -to the mountain that night to search for him. - -"Did he say anything?" she asked after a moment's silence. - -"Yes," the little girl spoke quickly. "He said: 'Hit's her. Hit shorely -are'!" - -Marion started. What further proof did she need that this was the man she -had seen peering in at their window? One more thing was certain, too; it -had been the little lost girl he had thought of when he said, "Hit's -her." - -At the fireside council that night all the events of the day were -discussed. Mrs. McAlpin approved to the fullest extent the girls' resolve -to make a stand in the interest of the mountain children and to do all in -their power to elect a school trustee who had the children's interest at -heart. She would do all within her power to help win the election. - -In regard to the mysterious man and little Hallie, it was decided that -should the man be seen again, every effort would be made to obtain -information from him regarding the identity of the child. - -"In the meantime," said Mrs. McAlpin, "we must keep an eye on the child -every moment. It is one thing to find her parents, quite another to have -her spirited away by one who may have no claim whatever upon her. At -school, at home, at work, at play, she must be carefully guarded." - -With this the council broke up and a few moments later Marion found -herself beneath the homespun coverlids, staring up at the brown beams and -dreaming that they were being slowly transformed into shining trenches -filled with Confederate gold. - -Black Blevens was not long in carrying his election war into every -quarter. The summer school at once became a center of fire. At this time -the free summer school was more than half over and, though neither -Florence nor Marion had taught in day school before, they had met with -singular success. They had found these young feud fighters regular -storehouses of explosives, but once the children came to know that their -teacher meant to deal justly with them and that they had a deep and -abiding love for them, they had settled down to hard study in a way quite -remarkable. - -Now, on the Monday after the election struggle had been determined upon, -there came a new pupil to the school. With two battered books and a half -of a tablet under his arm, he marched to the teacher's desk and announced -his intentions of going to school. - -His manner was meek enough to disarm the most wary of teachers. He was -sixteen. He was not badly dressed and an attempt had been made to comb -his unruly locks. Only in his restless blue eyes did there lurk a warning -signal of danger. - -Florence's lips trembled ever so slightly as she asked his name. - -"Bud," was the answer. - -"Bud for Buddington, I suppose?" - -"No'm, jest Bud." - -"All right, Bud," Florence's smile was a doubtful one. She was beginning -to suspect the truth. - -"Bud Wax," the boy added reluctantly. - -Florence started. She had feared this. Bud Wax, known as the most -troublesome boy on Laurel Branch, a boy who had been known to ride -through the settlement at midnight shouting like a wild Indian and firing -his pistol in air. And worst of all, he was a distant relative of Black -Blevens and lived at his cabin. - -What could be the answer? There could be but one; he had been sent to -make trouble. If Black Blevens could break up the summer school he could -all the more easily convince doubtful voters that these girls from the -outside were unqualified to handle the school. - -For a moment she wavered. She could refuse to admit him. The control of -the summer school was in her hands. Yet there was no real reason to -offer. Bud was larger and older than most of the other children, yet -there were a few older than he. - -"And besides," she told herself as she set her lips tight, "to refuse to -admit him is to surrender without a battle. I won't surrender." - -All this thinking took but a half dozen seconds. At the end of that time -she favored the boy with her very best smile and said: - -"All right, Bud, you may have the seat by the back window on the right -side." - -For a moment the boy stared at her in silence. A seat by a back window is -at once a much coveted place and a spot quite advantageous for mischief -making. Bud knew this; yet this girl teacher gave him this place. Just -what his conclusions were regarding this move Florence could not even -guess. - -Every hour of that day seemed the hour before a thunder storm. Every -child in the room knew why Bud was there; and while as a whole they were -friendly to their teachers, they were at the same time normal children. -And where is the child who does not long for excitement. - -The day passed as others had. The slow drone of bees outside, the murmur -of voices reciting lessons, loud shouts of play at noon and recess, then -the glad burst of joy as the sixty children went racing home. - -"Bud was just like the rest," Florence said to Ransom Turner that -evening. "Perhaps there's nothing wrong after all." - -"Just you wait!" Ransom said with a shake of his head. "Old Black Blevens -ain't sendin' that boy to school fer book larnin'. Hit's time for layin' -by of the corn. Took him right outen' the field, he did. Don't make -sense, that ar don't, unless he hopes Bud'll make trouble." - -Florence went to bed with a headache. Doubtless Ransom was right. She was -tempted to wish that they had never started the fight, that they had left -Black Blevens and Al Finley to collect their ill gotten school money. - -"And the children without an education!" she whispered fiercely. "No! -Never! Never! We'll fight, and by all that's good, we'll win!" - -A whole week passed and nothing unusual happened. If Bud Wax and Black -Blevens meant any harm they were taking a long time to tamp powder and -lay fuse. All Ransom would say was: - -"Jest you mind what I say. That Black Blevens is a plumb quare worker, -but he's always at hit." - -Two little rumors came to Florence. A small child had told her that Bud -carried his pistol to school. An older boy had said that Bud was trying -to pick a quarrel with Ballard Skidmore. Ballard was larger and older -than Bud, a big, slow-going, red-headed fellow who somehow reminded -Florence of a St. Bernard dog. She put little faith in either of these -rumors, and as for picking a quarrel with this slow-going fellow, she did -not believe it could be done. - -On Saturday something vaguely disturbing occurred. There were many -squirrels on the upper slopes of Little Black Mountain. Ralph had taught -Florence how to shoot with his long barreled .22 pistol. She decided to -try her hand at hunting. Had it not been Marion's day for helping with -the work she would have asked her to go along. As it was, she struck away -alone over the tortuous cow path that led to the upper reaches of the -mountain. - -Having donned a pair of canvas knickers, high boots and an old hunting -coat, she was prepared for a free, rough time of it. Free and rough it -was, too. Brambles tore at her, rocks slid from beneath her feet to send -her sprawling, a rotten tree trunk over which she was climbing suddenly -caved in and threatened to send her rolling down the mountain. She -enjoyed it all. A typical American girl, strong and brave, born for the -out-of-doors, she took the buffets of nature and laughed in its face. - -As she reached a higher elevation the slope became gentler. Here she -found an abundance of beach and chestnut trees, and higher up a grove of -walnut. - -Hardly had she reached the edge of the walnut grove when she caught a -flash of red, then a scolding chatter from a tall tree. - -"A squirrel," she breathed as she silently lifted the hammer of her long -pistol. "I wonder--I just wonder--" - -Her wonderings were cut short by a sudden thud close by, then another. -Two frisking squirrels had come to the ground within a dozen paces of -her. Like a flash of light they were away over the moss and up another -tree. This tree was not large and the leaves were scanty. On tip-toe she -stalked it. - -Gazing intently upward, she discovered a pair of small black eyes looking -down at her. - -"There's one." - -She lifted the shiny barrel, but at that instant the eyes vanished. - -Off to the right she caught a chatter. Then, just as she went tip-toeing -away, a half-grown walnut dropped at her feet. She picked it up. The -shell had been half eaten away. - -"You saucy things!" she exclaimed, shaking her fist in mock anger at the -frolickers. - -With eyes wandering everywhere, tip-toeing, listening, pausing for a -moment to start quickly away, she at last crossed over into a grove of -chestnuts. - -All this time the inside of her pistol's barrel remained as shiny as when -she started. Always, as she prepared to shoot, she caught a shrill -chatter or saw the flash of a bushy tail. It was great fun, so she went -on with it until at last, quite tired out, she flung herself down beneath -a great chestnut tree to half bury herself in green and gray moss as soft -as a velvet cushion. There, flat on her back, breathing the fresh -mountain air, listening to the songs of forest birds far and near, -catching the distant melodious tink-tank of cow bells, squinting at the -flash of sunlight as it played among the leaves, she at last drifted off -into a dreamy sleep. - -She did not sleep long, but when she awoke she was conscious of some -living creature near her. Then she heard a thump-thump among the leaves, -followed by a scratching sound. Without the least sound, she moved her -head from side to side. Then she saw him, an inquisitive red squirrel. He -was sitting on a stump, not ten feet away, staring at her. Instantly her -hand was on her pistol, but she did not lift it. Instead, she rolled over -and lifted up her head to look again. - -The squirrel had retreated a little, but had mounted another stump for a -second look. - -"How easy!" she thought, silently gripping her pistol. - -There came a rustle from the right, then one at the left. The ground was -alive with squirrels who had made a party of it and had come for a look -at this sleeping nymph of the woods. She caught the gleam of their -peering eyes from leaf pile, low bush, stump and fallen trees. - -"No!" she whispered at last. "I couldn't kill one of you. Not one. But -it's been heaps of fun to hunt you." - -At that she sat up and began shaking the dead leaves from her hair. -Instantly her furry visitors vanished. - -But what was that? She caught a sound of heavier movements in the leaves. - -Instantly she was on her knees, peering through the bushes. What could it -have been? Surely not a squirrel. Too heavy for that. There it was again! -Rustle! Rustle! Rustle! - -Then again there was silence, a silence that was frightening. The girl -felt the hair rising at the back of her neck. She was alone on the -mountain. Was it a bear? There were bears on the mountain. Was it a man? -An enemy? - -As she glanced about she realized with a little burst of fright that, -like sparrows at sight of a hawk, the squirrels had vanished. This indeed -was an ominous token. - -Springing to her feet, she thrust her long barreled pistol into an inside -pocket of her jacket, where it could be snatched out at a moment's -notice. Yet, even as she did this, she realized how absurd a weapon is a -long barrelled .22 when one faces real danger. - -For a moment, standing like a wild deer, poised on tip-toe ready for -instant flight, she stood there listening. All she heard was the wild -beating of her own heart and the faint tink-tank of cow bells in the -valley below. - -The sound of these bells increased her fear. Their very faintness told -her the distance she had wandered away over the mountain. - -The next moment, walking on tip-toe, scarcely breathing, with her pistol -snugly hidden in her coat, she was making good her retreat. - -It was not until Monday morning that the real truth of this mountain -experience came to her. Then it came with a suddenness and force that was -strong enough to bowl over even a man of strong heart. - -She was on her way to school when Ransom Turner, having called her into -the store and closed the door, said in a low husky tone that told her of -deep feeling: - -"There's a warrant out for your arrest, but don't you care narry bit!" - -"For my arrest?" Florence stared. "What have I done?" - -"Hit's for carryin' concealed weapons, a pistol gun, I reckon." - -"Why, I never--" - -The girl paused and caught her breath. It all came to her like a flash. -Those stealthy movements on the mountain had been made by some of Black -Blevens' men. They had been spying on her. She blushed as she realized -that they might have seen her sleeping there in the leaves. But her face -was flushed with anger as she realized that, having seen her pocket that -all but harmless pistol, they had taken a mean advantage and had sworn -out a warrant for her arrest. - -"Don't you keer," said the little mountain man, putting a hand on her -arm. "Don't you keer narry bit. This store's mine, an' all them goods. -I'll mortgage hit all to go your bond. You go right on teaching your -school. We'll take keer of old Black Blevens and all them of his sort." - -Quick tears blinded her, but she brushed them away. It was hard to be -treated as a criminal in a strange land and by the very people you were -trying to help. - -Quickly, instead of tears, there was a gleam of battle in her eyes. - -"We'll beat it!" said Ransom, clinching his fists hard. "Down here in the -mountings law's a club to beat your enemies with. Hit's quare, but hit's -true. We'll git a lawyer from the court house. We'll beat old Black -Blevens, just you wait and see!" - -Three times more that morning Florence was reduced to tears by -rough-clad, shuffling mountaineers who came to knock timidly at the -schoolhouse door and to assure her that they had heard of her plight and -were ready to go her bail and to help in any way. "If hit takes the roof -off from over my ole woman an' the last hog shoat I got runnin' in the -branch," as one of them expressed it. - -It is always good to know that one has friends, and when one is among -comparative strangers it is gratifying indeed. - -And yet, as the day came to an end and the sudden mountain darkness fell, -it found Florence with a heavy heart. To be tried by a Justice of the -Peace for a crime, this was a cross indeed. - -"Tried by a Justice," she thought to herself. "Who is the Justice? -Pellage Skidmore! One of Black Blevens' henchmen! It's a plot. They'll -fine me and let me go; perhaps give me ten days in the county jail. Ten -days in that place!" Her heart stopped beating. She had seen that jail--a -dark and dirty place full of vermin. - -"Oh, I couldn't!" she breathed. - -Then of a sudden a new thought came to her. The least fine that could be -imposed was twenty-five dollars; one of the men had told her that. - -"In the Constitution of the United States," she whispered to herself, "it -says that in trials over matters amounting to twenty-five dollars, or -over, the defendant may call for a jury. I'll call for one. If I must -have a trial, I'll have a real one!" - -At that she stamped the ground with her foot and felt immensely relieved. -There is a great comfort to be had sometimes when one has something to -say about his own hanging. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - THE SILENT WATCHER - - -Troubles never come singly. Florence's second shock came close on the -heels of the first. Having decided to make the best of a bad situation -and to allow her friends and fellow clansmen to arrange the legal battle -over her trial for carrying a concealed weapon, she went to her work next -day with a brave heart. - -With all her strong resolves, the look on the faces of her smaller -charges came near melting her to tears. All knew of the impending trial. -A few greeted her with a glassy stare. These were children of her -enemies. For the most part they looked at her with such a sad and -sorrowful longing as one might expect to find on the face of a mother -whose son has been ordered shot. - -"Surely," Marion said to her, "being tried by a jury in the mountains -must be a solemn affair." - -"It is," said Florence, swallowing hard, "and Ransom Turner told me last -night this was the first time in the history of the mountains that a -woman has been tried for carrying concealed weapons." - -"It will be a great occasion!" Marion could see the humor of the -situation. "When is it to come off?" - -"Ransom says that the judge has set the trial a week from next Monday." - -"That's school election day. All Laurel Branch will be there!" - -"Let them come!" said Florence, a gleam of fire in her eye. "I haven't -done anything to be ashamed of! They want a fight. We'll give them one--a -battle royal! They've already lost one point; they must give me a jury. -We'll make them lose some more. I shouldn't wonder if the tide would turn -and the power that is higher than I would turn this bit of meanness and -trickery to our advantage." - -The forenoon of that day passed much as had the earlier hours of other -days--study and lessons, recess, then again the droning of voices blended -with the lazy buzzing of flies and the distant songs of birds. - -In spite of the quiet smoothness of the passing hours, there was in the -air that ominous tenseness which one feels but cannot explain. - -This was heightened fourfold by a strange occurrence. Just as Florence -was about to ring the bell after the noon hour, Marion drew her to a -gaping window that looked out on the upper landscape and pointed with a -trembling finger to a solitary figure perched atop a giant sandstone rock -that lay in the center of a deserted clearing a few hundred yards above -the schoolhouse. - -The figure was that of a mountaineer. At that distance it would have been -difficult to have told whether he was young or old. Something about the -way he sat slouching over the rifle that lay across his lap reminded -Florence of Black Blevens. An involuntary shudder shook her. - -"On Lookout Rock!" she breathed. - -The story of that rock they knew too well. In earlier days, when a deadly -feud was raging up and down the creek, this rock had been the lookout for -Black Blevens' clan. There, on top of the rock, with rifle at his side, a -clansman would watch the movements of his enemy. Smoke curling from a -distant chimney, a woman hoeing corn in the field, the distant boom of a -rifle, all were signs that he read and passed on by signals to his -distant clansmen. - -"There hasn't been a watcher on that rock for years, they say," said -Florence. Her teeth were fairly chattering. - -"See! He's looking this way. Seems that he must be expecting something to -happen." - -"Wha--what could it be?" - -Florence stood trembling, all unnerved for one instant. Then, having -shaken herself as one will to awaken from an unpleasant dream, she became -her brave self again. - -It was well she regained her courage. Fifteen minutes later, while Marion -was outside beneath a great beech tree, hearing a lesson, Florence sat -watching over a study hour. On hearing a sound of commotion she looked up -quickly to see her fifty children running for doors and windows. In the -back of the room Bud Wax and Ballard Skidmore stood glaring at each other -and reaching for their hip pockets. - -One instant the teacher's head whirled. The next that dread rumor sped -through her brain: "Bud has been carrying his pistol gun to school." - -Then, like a powerful mechanical thing, she went into action. One instant -she had leaped from the platform; the next found her half way down the -aisle. Before the slow muscles of Bud's arm had carried a hand to his -pocket, he felt both wrists held in a vice-like grip and a voice that was -strange, even to the speaker herself, said: - -"Ballard Skidmore, leave the room. All the rest of you take your seats." - -Had Bud Wax possessed the will power to struggle, he would have found -himself powerless in this girl's grasp. Nature had endowed her with a -magnificent physique. She had neither neglected it nor abused it. Gym, -when there was gym, hiking, climbing, rowing, riding, had served to keep -her fit for this moment. - -As Bud sank weakly to his seat he felt something slide from his pocket. - -"My pistol gun," his paralized mind registered weakly. The next moment he -saw the teacher gripping the butt of that magnificent thing of black -rubber and blue steel and marching toward the front of the room. - -"James Jordon," she said as she tried to still the wild beating of her -heart, "go bring me two sandstones as large as your head." - -"Yes, mam." James went out trembling. - -Florence calmly tilted out the cylinder of the gun and allowed the -cartridges to fall out. After that she stood with the weapon dangling in -her hand. - -When the rocks had been placed on her desk she laid the pistol on the -flattest one, then lifted the other for a blow. - -She did not look at Bud. She dared not. When a small child she had -possessed a doll that was all her own. A ruthless hand had broken the -doll's head. No doll ever meant more to a girl than his first gun meant -to a mountain boy. - -Without looking, she felt the agony on the boy's face as the stone -descended. Without listening she heard him crumple in his seat as the -rubber grip broke, springs flew and the barrel bent. - -When there remained only an unrecognizable mass of broken and twisted -steel, she walked slowly to the open window and dropped it out. Turning, -she looked them all squarely in the eye (all but Bud, whose face was down -on his desk) and said in her ordinary tune of voice: - -"You may resume your lessons." - -In one corner a fly, caught in a spider's web, droned complainingly. From -a nearby bush there came the liquid notes of a wild canary, while faint -and from far away there came the low of a cow. Save for the occasional -swish of a turned page, no other sound disturbed the Sabbath-like -stillness of the school room. And, as Florence's glance strayed to the -hillside and sentinal rock, she saw that the silent watcher was gone. - -Had Florence been able to open the book of the future and to read there -an account of the far reaching events that were to come out of the -moments that had just passed, she would have been surprised and startled. -As she could not, she could only wonder, and in her heart there was a -feeling of dread. - -The hours that followed were filled with a strange, subdued silence. The -careless rustle of pages was gone. Gone, too, was the uneasy shuffle of -feet on the plain board floor. Children recited in tones little above a -whisper. It was as if the room were empty; no children there. And yet, -there they were. Florence saw them with her eyes, but when she closed her -eyes she was subject to an illusion, a feeling that they had vanished. - -When the last long hours had dragged its way to a weary end, the children -crept silently away. On the soft soil their bare feet made no sound, and -from their lips there came never a whisper. - -Bud Wax was the last to leave and looking neither to right nor left, with -his head upon his breast he disappeared at once in the shadows of a -paw-paw thicket. - -Marion had gone ahead with some of the younger children to help them -across the river. - -Florence remained behind. As the last child disappeared from sight, she -left the schoolhouse to strike off up the leafy bank and on up the -hillside until, quite out of breath from climbing, she threw herself upon -a soft bed of ferns to bury her face in her hands and burst out crying. - -As she lay there pressing her throbbing temples, it seemed to her that -all worth while things in the world had passed away. Being only a girl, -she could not fathom the depth of emotion nor measure the flood tide of -bitterness that flowed over her soul. She only knew that at last memory -came to her rescue, the memory of an old, old story in the Bible of a man -who, having won a marvelous victory over great odds, had gone far away -into the wilderness to at last throw himself prostrate upon the ground -and ask that he might die. - -As the girl recalled the story she felt that she had much in common with -this old prophet of Israel. The enemy of her school had tried to destroy -it. She had defeated his end. How long she would remain victor she could -not tell. She only knew that to-day she had won. - -"And to-day," she assured herself stoutly, "is enough. Let to-morrow care -for itself." - -Then of a sudden she recalled a promise. She had told Jensie Crider, one -of her most promising pupils, that she would come to her house and stay -the night. She must be away at once. - -An hour later found her on the shake roofed porch of a two room cabin far -up on the side of Big Black Mountain. The light faded from the tallest, -most distant peak as her tiny young hostess bade her shy welcome. - -To one accustomed, as Florence was, to the homes of rich and fertile -valleys, this mountain cabin seemed strangely meager. Two rooms, two -beds, a table of pine boards, a fireplace hung with rows of red peppers -and braids of onions, three splint bottomed chairs, a pile of home woven -coverlids in the corner, a box cupboard nailed to the wall, a few dishes -in the cupboard, that was all. - -And yet it was scrupulously clean. The hearth had been brushed, the floor -scrubbed and sanded, the coverlids on the beds were spotless and the few -cheap stone dishes shone like imported china. - -"It's something that people from the outside don't realize," Florence -told herself. "Many of these mountain folks, living here shut off from -the world, with few tools and many difficulties, would put to shame many -of those whose opportunities have been great. Surely their children -should have a chance! And they shall!" She clenched her hands tight as -this thought passed through her mind. She was thinking of the coming -school election and of the things they would do if they won. - -"If we win?" she whispered. "We will win! We will!" - -One incident of the evening in that cabin remained long in her memory. -They were at supper. Since there were but four plates and four chairs, -the two younger children must wait while Jensie ate with her teacher and -the father and mother. - -The meal was simple enough--corn bread baked on the hearth, fried string -beans, a glass of wild cherry jelly and a plain cake with very little -sugar. The luxury of the meal was a plate of boiled eggs. On the rich, -broad-sweeping prairies, or in cities, one thinks of eggs as staple food. -In the mountains they are hoarded as a golden treasure, to be traded at -the store for calico, shoes, and other necessities of life. - -But this night, in honor of the guest, Jensie had served six shining -white eggs. Florence saw the faces of the children glow with -anticipation. - -"Probably haven't had eggs for months," was her mental comment. - -As she took her egg and cut it in two with her knife, it was like the -breaking of bread in sacrament. - -As the meal was eaten she watched the eager eyes of the two waiting -children. Then, of a sudden, in the eyes of those little ones, a near -tragedy occurred. - -"Have another egg," said the hostess to Florence, passing the plate as -she did so. - -Without thinking, she put out a hand to take one. Then, of a sudden, the -youngest child threw herself flat on the floor while her little form -shook with silent sobbing. - -"No, I don't think I care for another," Florence said quickly, drawing -back her hand just in time. - -At once, with face wreathed in smiles, the little one was on her feet. - -"They do this for me," thought Florence, swallowing hard. "What must I -not do for them?" - -Nine o'clock found Florence safely tucked away in the bed which occupied -a corner of the small living room. In the kitchen-living room slept her -host and his good wife, while from above her there came an occasional -rustle or thump that told plainer than words that the three children, -having given up their bed to the teacher, had gone to sleep on the floor -of the attic. Here was one more token of the unusual hospitality of these -kindly mountain people. - -The ceiling, at which the girl lay staring with sleepless eyes, was -strange indeed. In some way Jeff Crider had obtained enough mill sawed -boards to cover the rough hewn beams. Some way, too, he had obtained -enough paint to cover the boards. Then, that he might produce a -decorative effect, before the paint was dry he had held a smoking, -globeless kerosene lamp close to the paint, and, moving about in ever -widening circles, had painted there black roads that led round and round -in endless ways to nowhere. - -As the girl stared at this fantastic ceiling it seemed to her that these -tracings should mean something, that they led to an important truth, a -truth that she should know, and one of vast importance. - -Then of a sudden it struck her all of a heap. This cabin had an attic. -Mrs. McAlpin's whipsawed cabin must have one, too. There was no entrance -from below. She was sure of that, but the attic was there all the same. - -"Confederate gold," she whispered. "It must be hidden there." - -So intense were her convictions on this subject that she found herself -unable to sleep. - -At last, having wrapped a homespun blanket about her, she stepped into -the crisp air of the night. - -The moon was just rising over Big Black Mountain. It was lighting up the -scenes of another entrancing mystery, which Florence had stumbled upon a -few days before. - -"Who lives at the head of Laurel Branch?" she had asked Ransom Turner. - -"I don't rightly know." - -"Don't know!" she exclaimed. - -"I reckon there ain't nobody that rightly knows except them that lives -there." - -"But--but where did they come from?" - -"Peers like there don't nobody rightly know." - -"How very strange!" she had exclaimed. "When did they come?" - -"Mebby two years back. Came from somewhere away over back of Pine -Mounting. Quarest people you most ever seed. One man half as big as a -mounting, and no arm except one. Mighty onfriendly folks. Coupla men who -went up thar huntin' got scared off. Quarest folks you most ever seed." - -"Perhaps that's where little Hallie came from." - -"Might be. But if I was you I'd never go near thar." - -Ransom had gone on to tell weird tales of these strange people, a dozen -families in all who had leased land from a coal company and had gone up -there beyond a natural stone gateway which appeared to shut them from the -rest of the world. He had told how they had stayed there, never coming -down to the settlements for barter and trade, and how they kept other -mountain people away. - -Other tales he had told, too; tales that had made her blood run cold. -There was the story of a peddler with a pack who had gone up there at -nightfall and had never been seen to return, and a one-armed fiddler who -had never come back. - -"But couldn't they have gone out some other way?" she had asked. - -"Narry a pass at the head of this branch, narry a one. Jest rocky ridges, -so steep an' high that if you was to drop your hat from the top it would -blow back up to you. No, Miss," he had added with a shake of his head, -"don't you never go up thar!" - -And yet she had somehow felt that she must and would go through the -natural gateway to the little known valley of mystery. - -Now, as she stood looking at the moon that shone down upon it all, she -felt the lure stronger than ever. - -"Some day," she whispered, "I will go up there. I feel sure that I must." - -Little did she dream, as she stood there until the chill night air drove -her inside, that in less than a week up there at the head of Laurel -Branch she was to enter upon the strangest, most mysterious adventure of -her young life. - -Before she fell asleep she wondered a little about the strange -experiences that had come to her on Ages Creek. Would she ever know why -they had made her prisoner there? When would the title be proved up on -the Powell coal tract? Would it ever be? Would they get the commission? - - - - - CHAPTER IX - BEYOND FORBIDDEN PORTALS - - -"Uncle Billie, has the whipsawed house an attic?" - -Florence asked the question eagerly as she met her venerable friend on -the creek road next day. - -"Sure enough! Now has it? I most forgit." The old man scratched his head. - -"It hasn't a stairway, nor an opening for a ladder, but there must be -space up there, and if there's space there must be something there." - -"Shore there are. Cobwebs, dust, an'--an'" the old man, startled with a -sudden thought, almost lost his balance and fell over, "an' of course -that ar Confederate gold. Shore enough. Whar else could it be?" - -"You come over at five this afternoon and we'll explore that place," -smiled Florence. "That is, if Mrs. McAlpin will permit us." - -"I'll shore be thar at the apinted hour--sun time," Uncle Billie beamed -like an excited child. - -"Plum quare gold it were," he added as Florence hurried away to school. - -At sight of the old log schoolhouse, all thoughts of the fabled gold were -driven from her mind. The responsibilities of the day came flooding in -upon her. What had been the results of yesterday's affair? She had asked -Marion to visit Ballard Skidmore in his home and get his story of the -quarrel with Bud Wax. She did not doubt but that Bud had been entirely in -the wrong, and hoped Ballard would return to school. Bud, of course, she -would never see in her school room again. Somewhat to her surprise, she -found herself regretting this. There was much good in the boy. She had -grown rather fond of the sight of his restless blue eyes. - -"If only he did not belong, body and soul, to Black Blevens," she told -herself, "one might make something of him." - -Again her mind went to work on the problems directly before her. How had -Black Blevens taken the affair yesterday? Had he been the silent watcher -on Lookout Rock? What had this setting of a watch meant? What would his -next move be? - -And what of the coming election? Would there be enough voters to enable -them to win? Ransom Turner had promised to make a canvas of the community -and tell her how matters stood. - -Her trial? Her heart sank at thought of it! To be tried by a jury with -all the mountain people looking on! - -"But it's all for them, for the little ones," she whispered, and was -comforted. - -Imagine her surprise when, upon entering the school yard, she saw Bud Wax -with the larger boys, pitching rocks at a stump. - -"I--I didn't think he'd come back," she whispered to Marion. - -"Neither did I." - -"Is Ballard coming back?" - -"Yes." - -"Will they fight again?" Florence's heart was in her throat. She felt -that another day such as yesterday would prove her undoing. - -"Ballard said he'd do his best. Bud had been teasing him for a long time. -He called him a name that no mountain man or boy will allow himself to be -called. Then Ballard struck him in the face." - -For a time Florence pondered the problem of further punishment for Bud. -In the end she concluded that any punishment after the destruction of his -pistol would be anticlimax. - -"We'll let bygones be bygones," she told Marion. "But keep your eyes open -for further trouble. Why did he come back anyway?" - -"Who knows?" - -That day Bud was a model pupil. Quiet, far too quiet for comfort, he -studied hard and recited perfectly. The day passed as a model in the -history of the school. Florence went home more puzzled than ever. On the -doorstep of the whipsawed house she found Uncle Billie Gibson. He was -smiling his brightest smile and glancing up at the eaves as if he -expected a shower of gold to come rattling down from the shingles. - -A moment later two breathless young ladies were eagerly begging Mrs. -McAlpin for permission to remove a board from the ceiling of their room -that they might explore the attic of that venerable house. - -Consent of the good lady was readily obtained and in a twinkle, armed -with a wood chisel and hammer, they were at the job. - -Have you never entered an old house whose attic has remained unexplored -for years? Then you have never enjoyed the exciting dreams that come with -thoughts of treasures that may be found there. Chests filled with curios -from many lands; ancient trunks packed with rare old laces; a -grandfather's clock; rare old books worth a fortune; period furniture -that a millionaire might covet. Indeed, who knows what rare treasures may -be hidden there? - -As for the two girls and Uncle Billie, they were looking for but one -treasure--a stack of yellow gold. - -As Florence inserted the chisel in a crack and gave it a pull there came -such a screech from the ancient hand-hammered nails as brought a scream -of fright from Marion. The next moment the board gave way with a -suddenness that all but knocked Florence from the chair upon which she -was perched and showered her with an accumulation of aged dust. With a -shrill cry she leaped to the floor. - -Over their heads, as they regained composure, they saw a broad, black, -gaping hole. - -"Dark up there," said Marion with a little shudder. - -"Have to use a flashlight." Florence dug down into her trunk. "Here it -is." - -"But it won't work." - -"Battery's dead. Have to use a candle." - -A candle was brought. Then while Marion sat on the chair, Florence -climbed the back of it and thrust her head and shoulders through the -hole. - -"See anything?" Marion asked breathlessly. - -"No, not a--yes, there's something, a black bulk over there in the -corner. It's a--" - -"A chest, of course!" Marion was quite beside herself with excitement. -Without thinking she sprang to her feet. The next instant the chair -toppled over and Florence, lighted candle and all, came crashing down -upon it. - -"Wha--what did you do that for?" she demanded, once she had regained the -breath that had been knocked from her by the fall. - -"I--I forgot!" said Marion. "Truly I'm sorry. Let's try again." - -"Not that way," said Florence, rubbing her bruises. "The bed will be -better. Come on, let's push it over." - -The bed was soon under the hole and a moment later the two girls, closely -followed by an agile old man, were creeping from beam to beam toward the -bulk in the dark. - -"I know it's the chest of gold," whispered Marion. - -"I--I--someway it don't look right." - -"Phoo-ee!" chuckled Uncle Billie. "That ain't no chest. That's a poundin' -mill. What hit's doin' stored up here is more'n I know." - -"A pounding mill? What's that?" demanded Florence as she held her candle -above a great cylindrical block of wood on which there rested a similar -block of smaller dimensions. - -"A poundin' mill's used for poundin' out corn meal. They ain't used now -on account o' water wheels, but they was a powerful help in their day. -You all never seed 'em work? Well, hit's this way." - -Uncle Billie lifted the smaller cylinder and dropped it into a hole in -the larger block, which was some three feet high and four feet across. - -"You put your corn in that there holler, then you tie this block to a -saplin' to help you teeter hit up an' down, an' you pound your corn until -it are meal. That's all there are to hit." - -"That's a powerful heavy block!" he exclaimed, trying to tip it. "Must be -made out o' first growth hickory, as sizeable as hit is." - -"But where's our gold?" asked Marion. Her voice dropped off into a little -disappointed wail. - -"Peers to me like we'd been barkin' up the wrong tree," said Uncle Billie -with a sad shake of his head. - -"Might be hidden around somewhere among the rafters," said Florence. -"Let's have a good look." - -They explored the attic thoroughly. Not a pile of dust but was disturbed -that day. Their only reward was a rusty Civil War canteen that, as Uncle -Billie expressed it, was "as empty as a bear after a winter's sleep." - -Just as they were preparing to descend, Marion made an interesting find. -Having noticed a circular spot on the dust covered boards that might have -been a knot, she put out a hand to pick up a circular disk. - -"What's this?" she exclaimed excitedly. "How heavy it is! It--why, it -must be gold!" - -"Hit shore are!" exclaimed Uncle Billie, taking it from her and rubbing -it clean on his ragged trousers' leg. "Hit sure are. Hit's one of them -are pieces of Confederate gold." - -"But it doesn't say Confederate," whispered Florence after examining it -closely. "It says on one side 'Georgia gold', and on the other--let's -see." With a trembling finger she rubbed away the last vestige of dust. -"It says: 'T-e-m-p-l-e R-e-i-d. Temple Reid, Ten Dollars'." - -"Georgia Gold. Temple Reid. Ten Dollars!" exclaimed Marion. "What -nonsense! How could a man coin money? Money is made by nations, not by -men." - -"But that's what it says," insisted Florence. - -"Well, anyway, it isn't Confederate gold," said Marion, disappointment -creeping into her tone. There had been a glamor of romance in her hope of -finding some coins struck by that long since dissolved government. - -"You can't most always tell," said Uncle Billie with a wise shake of his -head. "That ar's Georgia gold. But hit's jest one. There were a hundred, -mebby four-five hundred. Stands to reason some was Confederate, fer -hadn't Jeff Middelton come from right down thar whar that sort of money -were made?" - -Uncle Billie's logic seemed weak, but, that they might not hurt the -feelings of the good old man, the girls let it pass. They all adjourned -to the rooms below. Dust and dirt were scrubbed off, the hole was nailed -up, and there the matter stood, closed for the time being. - -One thing was decided upon. The strange gold piece was to be sent to a -curator of Field Museum, who was a friend of Marion. He would be able to -tell them the origin of the piece, and its value. - -"That one coin may be of considerable value," said Marion. "There are -coins worth hundreds of dollars." - -"Yes, and it may be worth just exactly its weight in gold," laughed -Florence. "But send it along. It will do no harm." - -That night the bit of gold went North in the registered mail pouch, and -the girls, forgetting their disappointment as quickly as possible, set -about two important tasks that lay just before them; the winning of the -school election and preparation for Florence's trial. - -It was five days later. It was evening, but there was no sunset. Dull, -gray clouds had hung low on the mountains all day. Dull clouds of -disappointment and defeat hung heavily on Florence's spirits. She had -taken a long, long walk up Laurel Branch. Her hopes that this walk would -revive her drooping spirits had proven vain. Each leaden mile had found -her head drooping more and more. - -"It's lost!" she murmured as she marched stolidly on. - -It was true; at least Ransom Turner had assured her it was. The school -election was lost. Each side had begun work early. The canvass had been -taken; the line-up, in so far as anyone could tell, was completed, and at -the present Black Blevens and his choice for teacher, Al Finely, were -eight votes ahead. - -"Eight votes!" she had said to Ransom. "How can we overcome that?" - -"Hit can't be done," Ransom had said. "Hit's a fact. That Black Blevens -is the election fightenest man I most ever seed. We're jest as good as -licked right now." - -"And yet," Florence said to herself as, undecided whether to pause for -rest or to wander aimlessly on, she paused beside a great flat rock, "it -does seem that there is a way to win if only we knew it." - -Just as if in answer to her worrying problem, the fog lifted, revealing -before her in startling clearness the natural gateway that led to the -horseshoe valley at the head of Laurel Branch. - -"The gate," she breathed. "The gateway to that mysterious valley where -strange people live without visiting the outside world, the valley from -which men do not return!" Her heart was all a-tremble. Her shaking knees -obliged her to drop suddenly upon an inviting rock. - -At once her keen mind was at work. She had come farther than she thought -and she should turn back at once. Then, too, that gateway held for her an -irresistible fascination. Did she hope from this point of vantage to -catch some glimpse of the life of those strange beings who lived beyond -the gate? Was some good angel whispering to her soul some of the hidden -things of the future? Who can say? Enough that she sat there alone while -the dull shadows deepened. - -It did not seem strange to her that her thoughts at this moment should -turn to the little girl, Hallie, who had been so mysteriously thrust into -the life that centered in the old whipsawed house. Indeed, she had often -enough associated her with this same stone gateway and had wondered if -after all she had been brought through this very portal to the outside -world. - -Wherever she may have come from, Hallie had grown to be the life of that -old brown cabin. She had come to them dressed in a water-soaked scarlet -dress and a mud smeared tam that shone bright even in their terrible -disarray. The bright colors had suited her so well that they had dressed -her so ever since. Closing her eyes, Florence could see her now. - -"Like a scarlet bird fluttering from branch to branch of an old tree," -she mused as she saw her moving from room to room. "How we'd miss her if -someone came for her!" - -Imagine her surprise when upon opening her eyes she saw, not twenty yards -before her, down the creek, the very person of whom she had been -thinking. - -Suppressing a cry of surprise, she waited and watched. Walking slowly, as -if in a trance, Hallie passed within four feet of her without seeing her, -then marched straight on toward the rocky gateway that lay between her -and the hidden valley. - -At once Florence's mind was in a whirl. Her lips parted to call the child -back, but no sound came forth. - -What should she do? Evidently something had happened to the child. She -was in a daze again. Perhaps the old fever that had wiped out her memory -had returned. Had memory accompanied it? Was she now groping her way back -to her own home? - -"Home!" Florence spoke the word softly. Home had meant so much to her. -Like a moving panorama she saw before her twilight scenes at home by the -fireplace, bed time and prayer beside her bed with her mother bending -over, joyous mornings and sunny afternoons. Home! Ah, yes, home! And -perhaps this little girl was going home. Could she stop her? And yet, -could she allow her to wander alone in the gathering darkness through -those forbidding portals? - -The answer came quickly. She dropped down into the path, turned toward -the stone gateway, then marched steadily forward until both she and the -child were lost to view beyond the rocky pillars. - -Had Florence chanced to look behind she might have caught sight of a -person following at a distance. A skulking figure it was that moved by -quick starts and stops from shadow to shadow. And, had her backward -glance been rightly timed, had it come as a sudden last feeble burst of -sunlight illumined his face, she would have seen that this person was Bud -Wax. - -Had she seen him her heart would doubtless have been filled with -misgivings and wild questions. Why was the boy following her? Was this a -trap? What did he know about little Hallie? What of the land beyond the -forbidden gateway? - -Since she did not look behind her, but walked straight on, she asked -herself no such questions. So the three passed into the mysterious -beyond, the child as in a dream, the teacher sturdily on duty bound, the -boy skulking from shadow to shadow. Hardly had they disappeared when -sudden night came down to close the gate with a curtain of darkness. - - - - - CHAPTER X - A MYSTERIOUS PEOPLE - - -Have you ever stepped out into a night so dark that you could scarcely -see your hand before you, and have you, after taking a few steps from -your own doorstep, tried to imagine that you were alone in the dark in -lands that were strange to you? If you have, then you can imagine the -feeling of Florence as she moved forward into the unknown. Scarcely had -the second hand on her watch ticked round three times than she found it -necessary to follow the child by sound rather than by sight. Such is the -darkness that at times fills rockbound mountain valleys. - -So, tripping over rocks, splashing into spring fed pools, slipping on -damp moss, she made her way forward. Always following the child, always -followed by the skulking figure of the boy, she came at last to a sudden -turn in the road, and there, just before her, shone a mellow square of -yellow light. - -"A home!" she breathed. - -At that instant there came the baying challenge of a hound. He was joined -by two others, and at once the hills were roaring with echoes of their -clamor. - -For a second Florence stood there trembling, irresolute. Her mind worked -rapidly. To flee would be folly. There was no escaping those roaring -beasts. The treatment she might hope to receive from her bitterest enemy -would be better. At once, having decided this question, she dashed toward -the light. - -Hardly had she gone a dozen paces when, with a little cry of surprise and -terror, she stumbled over something soft and yielding, then went down -sprawling. - -At once she was on hand and knees, feeling for the thing that had tripped -her. In a second her hands were upon it. Not another second was needed to -tell her what it was. - -"Hallie," she whispered. "Hallie! What has happened? Hallie! Get up!" - -But the form beside her neither answered nor moved. - -In desperation she groped about her for a stone. Having found two of the -right size, she crouched there like a panther beside her wounded young. -At the same time, in as steady a tone as she could command, she shouted: - -"Hey there, you! Call off your dogs! Do you want them to murder an -innocent child?" - -One instant there came a flood of light from a large door, the next the -light was blocked by the form of the largest man Florence had ever seen, -and there came such a giant's roar as quite drowned the baying of the -dogs and set the rocks fairly shaking with echoes. - -The echoes died away and the dogs were silent. The giant did not speak -again, but stood there peering into the darkness. The girl caught the -snap-snap of a bat's jaws as he flew over. She heard the steady tick of -her watch. Then of a sudden there came a movement close behind her. -Wheeling about, she tried to peer into the darkness but saw nothing. -There came no other sound. - -So a moment passed on into eternity, and yet another. Then the giant's -voice boomed again: - -"Whoever y' be, come! Them hounds won't harm you narry bit. There's chill -and right smart of mounting fever in the night air." - -Rising unsteadily, a great fear tugging at her heart, Florence lifted the -child in her arms and stumbled along toward the doorway. - -As she came nearer, the man turned to speak a word to someone inside and -at once the light from within brought out his profile in clear relief. A -massive, full-bearded face it was, with a powerful jaw, a large hawk-like -nose, and a full forehead. All this was crowned by a tangled mass of iron -gray hair. - -Two other facts the girl noted with a shudder. The giant's right sleeve -hung limp at his side; in his powerful left arm he held a rifle of -gigantic proportions which might suit equally well for either firearm or -club. - -"It's the one-armed giant that Ransom Turner told about!" she whispered -to herself, more frightened than ever. - -Yet, mindful of the good of the child who lay limp in her arms, she -trudged sturdily on until the light from the doorway fell full upon her. - -Instantly, at sight of them, a change came over the man's face. The ruddy -touch to his cheek turned to ashen. He tottered as if for a fall but, -gripping the doorpost, he held his ground and continued his glassy stare -until at last words escaped his lips: - -"Hit's Hallie!" - -Then, and not till then, did Florence know that she had brought the child -to her home. - -But the giant? The moment his force of will had loosed his tongue, like -some lion who stunned by a shot comes back to life, he became a -terrifying creature of tremendous action. - -"Hit's her!" he roared. "They killed her!" - -"She's not dead," said Florence in as calm a tone as she could command. -"Let me by." - -Mechanically the giant moved to one side. - -As Florence stepped into the room she took in the interior at a glance. -It was the largest room she had seen in the mountains and its walls were -of logs. The cracks were well chinked. The floor was clean and the wooden -table, on which rested three large candles, was scrubbed to a snowy -whiteness. Two beds in a corner were well in order. A burned down fire -glowed dully in a broad fireplace. - -In the corner by the fireplace stood two women; one tall and young, with -the sturdy erectness of her kind; the other bent with age. They had risen -from their chairs and were pointing at the child in her arms. - -"They've killed her!" the giant roared again. The working of his face in -rage or sorrow was a terrible thing to see. "You have killed her. Hit's -enough. Give her to me." He gripped Florence's arm in a way that brought -white lines of pain to her face. - -At that instant an astonishing thing happened. A body hurdling through -the doorway struck the giant amidship and sent him bowling over like a -ten-pin. As he fell he crashed into the table and overturned it. The -three candles cut circles through the air, then sputtered out, leaving -the place in darkness. - -At once Florence's head was in a whirl. What should she do? Try to -escape? Perhaps. But where was the door? She had lost her sense of -direction. As she took a step forward her foot caught in some garment -and, loosing her hold on the child, she fell heavily. - -Stunned by the fall, she lay motionless. As her wandering senses returned -she became conscious of the beings about her. She caught the heavy -breathing of the old man. No sound came from the corner by the fire. Like -all those of their race, the mountain women were neither whining nor -sobbing over this sudden commotion in their home, but stood stolidly -waiting the next surprising turn of fortune's wheel. - -Darkness continued. Two red coals on the hearth glowed like eyes, but -gave forth no light. - -Suddenly, as Florence listened, she heard the sharp drawn breath of one -in pain. - -Who could this be? The person who had leaped through the door? Perhaps, -but who was he? - -All these wandering thoughts were put to flight by the sudden wail of a -child. - -"Hit's Hallie," said a woman's voice from the corner. "She hain't dead. -Not near. Betsy Anne, make a light." - -Florence heard a shuffle in that corner, sensed a groping in the dark, -then saw a trembling tube of paper thrust against one of the live coals. -At once the coal began to brighten. - -"Someone blowing it," she thought. - -Five seconds later the tube burst into bright flame, throwing fantastic -shadows over the room. A few seconds more and a candle was found. It -illumined the cabin with a faint but steady light. - -Scarcely knowing whether to flee or stay, Florence glanced hurriedly -around her. The giant, having risen to his knees, was bending over the -child who was now silently sobbing. The two women were standing nearby -and in the corner was the last person Florence had expected to see. - -"Bud Wax!" she exclaimed. - -Then catching the look of pain on his face, she said with a look of -compassion. - -"You're hurt!" - -"I--I guess it's broken," said the boy, touching the arm that hung limp -at his side. - -"But why--" - -"I--I thought he'd hurt you, and I--I couldn't--" - -"You did it for me! You--" Florence was beginning to understand, or at -least to wonder. Bud had done this--Bud, of all persons. Kin of her -bitterest enemy, the boy whose choicest possession she had destroyed! And -how had he come to be here at that moment? Her head was in a whirl. - -"There's right smart of a rock right outside the door," the boy grinned. -"I were a watchin' from up there an' when I seed him grab yore arm I just -naturally jumped. I reckon hit were to far." - -"But if your arm is broken, it must be set." - -"Yes'm, I reckon." - -At that moment there was a sound of shuffling feet at the door. Turning -about, Florence found herself staring into the face of a man, a face she -recognized instantly. The beady eyes, hooked nose, unshaven chin--there -could be no mistaking him. It was he who had twice frightened Marion and -at one time all but driven little Hallie into hysterics. - -"What more could happen in one crowded night?" she asked herself, deep in -despair. - -Strangely enough, Bud Wax was the one person in the room who brought her -comfort. Oddly enough, too, the person she feared most was the one she -saw for the first time that very moment, the man at the door. - -Even as she stared at this man with a fascination born of fear, the man -spoke: - -"What you all so shook up about?" he drawled. - -"Hit's Hallie," the grizzled old man said, running his hand across his -brow. "She's come back. They brung her back. Might nigh kilt her, I -reckon, then brung her back." - -Florence's lips parted in denial, but no words came out. Her tongue -seemed glued to the roof of her mouth. There she sat, staring dumbly, -while a cheap nickel plated alarm clock on the mantelpiece rattled loudly -away as if running a race with time, and faintly, from far away, there -came the notes of some bird calling to his mate in the night. - - * * * * * * * * - -At this moment, back in the whipsawed cabin, Marion found herself at once -highly elated and greatly depressed. - -"If only we can find the rest of them--a whole sack of them!" she -whispered excitedly to herself one moment, and the next found herself -pacing the floor, murmuring: "Where can they have gone? Why don't they -come back?" - -There was no connection between the two emotions which she was -experiencing. The first had to do with a letter which had just been -brought to her from the little postoffice down the creek; the last with -the mysterious disappearance of Florence and Hallie. - -The letter was from her friend, the curator at Field Museum. It read: - - "Dear Marion: - - You have made quite a find. How did you happen upon it? But then, I - suppose one may find many rare articles back there in the Cumberlands - so far from the main channels of commerce and life. - - The gold piece you sent me is not properly a coin, but a token minted - by a private individual. There are enough such tokens in bronze, but - the gold ones are rare. Just why any were made is hard to tell. We know - they were made, however. Two kinds are known to exist; one made in - Georgia, the other in North Carolina. - - You may not know it, but way back in 1830 gold was mined in Lumpkin - County, Georgia, and Rutherfordton, North Carolina. Temple Reid, of - Georgia, and a Mr. Bechtler of Rutherfordton, made their gold into - tokens and the specimen you have found is a true sample of Georgia - gold, very rare and quite valuable. Should you care to sell this one, - and should you find others, I have no doubt they might be readily - disposed of at something like sixty or seventy dollars for each piece." - -"Sixty or seventy dollars!" Marion exclaimed as she read the letter for a -third time. "At that rate a mere handful of them would be worth quite a -small fortune, and even the price of one is not to be sneered at. It -would help toward repairing the schoolhouse." - -"It wouldn't go far," smiled Mrs. McAlpin. "That schoolhouse needs a new -roof, a new floor, doors, windows, blackboards and seats. Otherwise it is -a very good schoolhouse. But then, what is the use of your dreaming about -that? Ransom Turner says the election is lost, and he should know." - -"Yes, he should." A cloud spread over Marion's face as she sat down. The -cloud was replaced by a frown as she sprang to her feet to pace the floor -and exclaim for the fourth time: - -"Where can they have gone? Why don't they come back?" - -"Have no doubt," said Mrs. McAlpin, "that they went together to a cabin -for supper or to spend the night." - -They--Florence and Hallie--had indeed gone to a cabin to spend the night; -but such a cabin, and such a night! - -Marion knew that Mrs. McAlpin did not feel half the assurance she tried -to express. Little Hallie had disappeared, leaving no trail behind. -Florence had left the whipsawed cabin, saying she was going for a walk -but would return for supper. She had not returned. Darkness had come, -supper time had passed. Their supper stood untouched and cold on the -table. - -"I still have hopes of finding the rest of that Georgia gold," said -Marion, talking more to herself than to Mrs. McAlpin. "Perhaps it isn't -all Georgia gold. There may be some Confederate gold mixed in with it. -One never can tell. It certainly would be thrilling to discover some real -Confederate gold. I'm not at all satisfied with our search of the attic." - -"Was there anything up there beside this one bit of gold?" On Mrs. -McAlpin's face there was such an amused smile as one might expect to find -there had a child told her he meant to go in search of the pot of gold at -the foot of the rainbow. - -"Nothing but a heavy old pounding mill," replied Marion. - -"Why should one wish to store a pounding mill in an attic? They are -always used out of doors." - -"I don't know," said the girl thoughtfully. "Might be sort of an -heirloom." - -"Rather ponderous I should say." - -Marion caught her breath. Uncle Billie had said that old block of a -pounding mill was uncommonly heavy. Here was food for thought. The first -thing in the morning she would go up there. She would-- - -At this moment her thoughts were cut short by a sudden burst of thunder -that went rolling and reverberating down the mountain. - -"We're in for a storm!" she exclaimed, dashing toward the door. - -They were in for a storm indeed; such a storm as had not been known on -Laurel Branch in years. For an hour Marion sat by the doorway watching -the play of lightning as it flashed from peak to peak on Big Black -Mountain. The deafening peals of thunder, like the roar of gigantic -cannons in some endless battle, came rumbling down from the hills to -shake the very cabin floor. Through all this one thought was uppermost in -Marion's mind, one question repeated itself again and again: - -"Where is Florence and little Hallie?" - - - - - CHAPTER XI - THE GUARD OF THE STONE GATEWAY - - -At the very moment when Marion was wondering and worrying about her pal, -Florence was learning how truly one might trust the providence of God. - -Being cornered, with the grizzled giant before her accusing her of "might -nigh killing" little Hallie, and with the beady-eyed individual, whom she -feared most of all, blocking the door before her, and with Bud Wax, whom -she had always thought of as a member of the enemy's clan, groaning with -pain in the corner, she had reached the point of utter distraction when -of a sudden the man in the doorway spoke. - -He had just been told that little Hallie had returned home, "might nigh -killed." - -"T'ain't so!" he exclaimed, looking first at the one-armed giant and then -at Florence. "Hain't narry a word of truth in what you just been saying, -Job Creech. Them thar folks never hurt Hallie. They never teched one hair -on her head. They was plumb kind an' gentle with her. I been watchin'. I -knowed whar she was. She was so pert and contented hit were a shame to -tote her away." - -Nothing could have more surprised Florence than this speech; nothing -could have more quickly released her pent-up powers and set her brain -working on the needs of the moment. - -"Hain't nobody been totin' Hallie back," grumbled the giant. "This here -fureign lady brung her back." - -Florence did not hear this speech. She was already bending over the -silently sobbing child. After loosening her clothes, she chafed her cold -hands and feet until a warm red glow returned to them; then, picking her -up, she placed her on the bed and covered her in home woven blankets. In -less than a minute Hallie fell into a peaceful sleep. - -"She'll be all right when she wakens," Florence smiled reassuringly at -the younger woman, who she thought might be the little girl's mother. -"When she wakes up she may even recognize you all. I hope so." - -The woman stared at her as if she had spoken to them in a foreign -language. - -Disregarding this, she turned to the man at the door. "This boy has -broken his arm," she said, nodding at Bud. "It will have to be set. Have -you anything that will do for splints?" - -"I reckon thar's right smart of shakes outen the shed." - -"Will you get me some?" - -The man disappeared. - -After a search she found in the corner an old, faded calico dress which -was quite clean. - -"This will do for binding," she said, looking at the women. "You don't -mind if I use it?" - -"'T'ain't no account noways." - -"All right. Thanks." - -She was obliged to hurt Bud severely while getting the bone in place and -binding it, but the boy uttered never a groan. - -By the time this task was completed, finding herself quite shaky and -weak, Florence somehow made her way to a splint-bottomed chair by the -fire. Fresh fuel had been put on. In spite of the deluge of water that -now and again came dashing down the chimney, the fire burned brightly. -The thunder storm was now in full progress. Florence was surprised at -noting this. - -So preoccupied had she been with her errands of mercy that she had -neither heard nor seen anything of it until this moment. - -Strange indeed were her thoughts as she sat there staring at the fire. At -times it was the fire itself that held her attention. Led on by the -challenge of wind and storm, it went roaring and laughing up the chimney, -for all the world as if it meant to dispel the damp and cold from every -cabin in the mountains. A moment later, slapped squarely in the face by a -deluge of rain, it shrunk down within itself until the whole cabin was in -darkness. - -"It--it's given up," Florence would whisper to herself with a half sob. -"But no! There it is rising from its own blackened ruins to roar with -cheer again. - -"It's like life," she told herself. And, indeed, how like her own life it -was. Only a few days before she had been fired with hope and desire to be -of service to these mountain people. Now, with hopes drowned and courage -well nigh gone, she waited only to battle her way through the coming -trial and the election that seemed certain defeat. A lump rose in her -throat at the thought. - -But again, as the fire battling its way once more up the chimney flung -free its challenge to the elements, she was driven to believe that -courage, hope and desire to serve would again burn brightly in her heart. - -"Hope!" she whispered. "What hope can there be? The election is lost! The -winter school a thing of the past. How can it be otherwise? And yet I do -hope!" - -These thoughts passed. She had become suddenly conscious of her immediate -surroundings. She was well within the natural stone gateway through which -entrance had been forbidden heretofore. She was in the midst of a strange -and mysterious people, in the very cabin of their leader. Of this last -she felt sure. - -She recalled with a sudden shock the weird tales she had heard told of -these people, of the peddler with his rich pack of linens and box of -jewelry, and of the one-armed fiddler who had passed this way to be seen -no more. - -"And now I am here," she whispered, her limbs trembling with terror. "And -on such a night!" - -Even as she spoke there came such a rolling crash of thunder as set the -dishes in the little wall cupboard rattling and brought a huge cross-log -on the fire down with a thud and sputter that sent sparks flying -everywhere. She caught the rush of water outside, not alone the constant -beating of the rain, but louder and more terrifying than that, the mighty -rush and roar of a cataract. Swollen to twenty times its natural size, -Laurel Creek had become a mighty Niagara. - -Turning about, she allowed her gaze to sweep the room. In one corner on a -bed little Hallie slept peacefully. In the opposite corner the man with -the hooked nose had thrown himself across the other bed. The two women -had vanished, probably into the other room of the cabin. In the corner, -with head pillowed on his uninjured arm, Bud Wax slept. - -"He doesn't look to be such a bad fellow," Florence told herself. And so -he didn't. On his face there was such an expression as one might expect -to find upon the countenance of one who, having lived through a long and -hard fought battle for self and self interests, had at last found peace -in service for another. - -Florence read the look pictured there, but she could not account for it. -She could not guess why the boy was there at all, nor why he had made the -attack that had resulted in the broken arm. It was all very strange and -puzzling. - -Strangest of all was the thing the one-armed giant was engaged in at that -particular moment. On a small chair that emphasized his hugeness, with -head bent low and lips constantly moving, he sat whispering over an old -Bible, spelling out the words one by one. As the fire regained courage to -do its best, lighting up his aged face with a sort of halo, the girl -thought she had never seen upon any face before a look so restful, -benevolent and benign. - -At that moment a hand touched her shoulder. She turned about and found -herself looking into the wrinkled face of the old woman. - -"Thought y' might like to lay down a spell," she said, jerking her thumb -toward a door that led to the other room. - -Without a word Florence followed her and, fifteen minutes later, buried -beneath a pile of home woven coverlids, she lay lost in dreamless sleep. - - * * * * * * * * - -Marion sat upon a bed of moss well up the side of Big Black Mountain. -Three days had passed since the mysterious disappearance of Florence and -little Hallie, three days of tormenting anxiety. Every creek and runway -had been searched, but to no purpose. They had vanished as completely as -they might had the earth swallowed them up. - -Only one spot remained to be searched--the head of Laurel Creek, beyond -the natural gateway. - -"They can't have gone up there," Mrs. McAlpin had said in a tone of deep -conviction. "Florence knew well enough the reputation of those strange -people. Nothing could have induced her to pass that forbidden barrier." - -Not satisfied with this, Marion had gone to Ransom Turner about it. - -"Hit's past reason!" he said emphatically. "Them's the killingest folks -in the mountains. That's a fact, though they've never been made to stand -trial. She'd never dare to go up there. An' besides, if hit were best to -go there to search, you'd have to git you up half the men in these here -mountains, and there'd sure be a big fight right thar." - -So the other hillsides had been searched and the tongues of local -gossipers had wagged incessantly. Bitter enemies had it that, seeing -herself defeated in the coming election and being ashamed or afraid to -stand trial for carrying concealed weapons, the girl had fled in the -night and had taken the child with her to the "Outside." All this, they -argued, was known well enough by Mrs. McAlpin and Marion, but they did -not care to admit it. - -In spite of all this, Ransom Turner and Marion had continued, almost -against hope, to carry on the election fight. Black Blevens had sent word -to Lige Howard up on Pounding Mill Creek that his mortgage would be -foreclosed if he and his three boys did not promise to come down on -election day and vote for him as trustee. Ransom Turner, on hearing this -had sent word to Lige that his mortgage would be taken care of--that he -was to vote for the best man. - -Mary Anne Kelly, a niece of Black Blevens, who lived down at the mouth of -Ages Creek, sent word to her fiance, Buckner Creech, that if he did not -vote right she would break her engagement. That had put Buckner on the -doubtful list. Pole Cawood's wife, who was a daughter of Black Blevens, -threatened to leave him and his four small children if he did not vote -for her father. - -"Such," said Marion, rubbing her forehead with a groan, "is a school -election in the Cumberlands. Nothing is too low or mean if only it helps -to gain an advantage. We have fought fair, and lost, as far as I can see. -Ransom says we will lack ten or twelve votes, and he doesn't know where -we can find a single other one." - -And yet, with the cheerful optimism of youth, the girl still hoped -against hope and looked forward with some eagerness the coming of -to-morrow and the election. - -Needless to say, with worry over Florence and Hallie, and interest in the -election, she had found neither time nor interest for further exploration -of the attic nor a search for Jeff Middleton's treasure. - - * * * * * * * * - -Strange were the circumstances that had held Florence within the -forbidden gates these three long days. - -She had wakened with a start on the morning following the storm and her -strange experiences in the cabin. The sun, streaming through a small -window, had awakened her. At first she had been utterly unable to account -for her strange surroundings. Then, like a flash, it all came to her. The -aged giant, Bud Wax with his arm in a sling, the women, the other man, -little Hallie, the storm,--all the strange and mysterious doings of the -night flashed through her mind and left her wondering. - -The very window through which the sunlight streamed suggested mystery. -Whence had it come? These mysterious people who lived beyond the stone -gateway had come from below, had travelled up Laurel Creek and had not -come back to the settlement. Where had the glass for the window come -from? Had it been taken from some older cabin? This log cabin seemed -quite new. Had these strange people some hidden trail to the outside -world? Ransom Turner had said there was no mountain pass at the head of -Laurel Branch. Could it be possible that he was wrong? - -All the wondering was cut short by thought of little Hallie. How was she? -Had consciousness returned? Perhaps she needed care at this very moment. - -With this thought uppermost in her mind, Florence sprang from her bed, -drew on her outer garments, then pushed open the door that led to the -other room. - -She found Hallie feverish, and somewhat delirious. Upon discovering this, -without begging leave of her strange host and with not one thought for -her own safety, she set herself about the task of bringing the bloom of -health back to the child's cheek. - -The people about her brought the things she asked for, then stood or sat -quietly about as they might had she been a doctor. - -During the course of the day some twenty men and women, and quite as many -children, came to peek shyly in at the door, or to enter and sit -whispering together. - -"More people in this neighborhood than one would think," was Florence's -mental comment. - -A day came and went. Hallie improved slightly. The next day she was so -much better that Florence took time for a stroll out of doors. It was -then that she received something of a shock. Having wandered down the -creek trail until she was near to the stone gateway, she saw a tall, -gaunt, young mountaineer step out into the path. With a rifle over his -arm, he began to pace back and forth like a sentry on duty. - -"I--I wonder--" she whispered to herself, "if he would let me pass?" - -She had no desire to leave without taking Hallie, she did not try, but -deep in her heart was the conviction that for some strange reason she was -virtually a prisoner within those gates. - -At once her mind was rife with speculation. Who were these people? What -had they to fear from contact with the outside world? Were they -moonshiners? She had heard much of mountain moonshine stills before she -came to the Cumberlands. If they were moonshiners, where had they sold -the product of their stills? - -"No, it couldn't be that," she shook her head. - -Were they a band of robbers? If so, whom did they rob? She thought of the -peddler and the one-armed fiddler, and shuddered. - -Still, as she thought of it now, she had seen very little in these cabins -that could have come from a peddler's pack. The bare-topped wooden tables -were innocent of linen. Towels were made of coarse, hand-woven linen. The -women wore no jewelry such as might have come from a peddler's black box. - -"It's all very strange and mysterious," she said with a shake of her -head. - -Only one thing came to her clearly as she returned to the cabin--she must -remain beside little Hallie until she was out of danger. - -"After that--what?" - -This question she could not answer. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - THE MYSTERY TRAIL - - -As Florence halted in her upward march she felt herself overawed by a -terrible sense of desolation. For an hour she had traveled over the most -silent, lonely trail her feet had ever trod. Little more than a footpath, -possible mayhap to a sure-footed horse, the trail wound up and up and up -toward the point where the green of forest ended in massive crags of -limestone. She was now among the crags. - -Far away on the opposite mountainside the sun was still shining, but on -this trail there fell neither sunlight nor form of shadow. The north -slope lay bathed in the perpetual chill of a cheerless autumn. No sound -came to her from above, not a whisper from below. Beneath her feet was -solid rock, above her more rock. - -"What's the use?" she asked herself as she stood there irresolute. "There -couldn't be a pass. There just couldn't. Yet it seems there must be! And -some way, some way, I must escape! To-morrow is my trial. To fail to -appear is to face disgrace. Besides, there are my faithful friends, my -bondsmen. I must not fail them!" - -Once more, with an eagerness born of despair, she pressed forward. - -It was, indeed, the day before the trial. Three days has passed since she -had entered the forbidden portals of the rock made gateway. Little Hallie -was now so far recovered that she at this moment sat wrapped in a -blanket, smiling at the flames in the great fireplace. Yes, Hallie was -all right now, but she, Florence, was in trouble. It was necessary that -she return to the settlement. But how was she to do it? Three times that -day she had approached the stone gateway. Each time the silent sentinel -had appeared, treading his monotonous watch before the trail. She had not -mustered up the courage to ask him to let her pass. - -"There must be another trail, a pass over the mountains at the head of -the creek," she had told herself. So, before the day had half gone, she -had walked slowly up the creek trail until far beyond sight of the -farthest cabin. Then she had quickened her pace almost to a run. - -One thing she had seen in passing the cabins had surprised her not a -little. As she rounded a corner she had caught a gleam of white and had -at once recognized the forms of three persons standing in the shadows of -a great pine. Two were men, one a grown boy. That boy, there could be no -mistake, was Bud Wax. The white she had seen was the wrappings on his -arm, which was still in a sling. - -With his back to her he was so engrossed in the conversation which he was -carrying on with the other man that he did not so much as see her. - -From that distance she caught only fragments of the talk. As the boy's -voice rose shrill and high, almost as if in anger, she heard: - -"Hit's your bounden duty. That's what hit are! Look what she's been -doin'. Look--" - -But here she passed behind a clump of young pines which muffled the sound -of his voice. - -As she pushed on through the deepening shadows she thought of this and -wondered deeply. Bud had disappeared before she was up that first -morning. She had always supposed that he had escaped to his home in the -darkness of night and storm. But here he was. What was she to make of -that? Why had he come in the first place? Why had he stayed? Was he, -also, virtually their prisoner? Or had he gone out and returned for a -reason? What was his feeling toward her? There had been times during that -last week of school that she had surprised on his face a look almost of -admiration. The look had vanished so quickly that she had doubted its -existence. - -And that night? Why had he leaped at the one-armed giant when he put out -a hand to seize her? It looked like a desire to protect her. But why? Was -he not from the camp of the enemy--Black Blevens' camp? Had she not -destroyed his most priceless possession, hammered it to bits between two -rocks? What could she think? - -Her thoughts were suddenly cut short. Before a wall of stone that towered -a hundred feet in air, she had come to the end of the trail. - - * * * * * * * * - -In the meantime, all unknown to Marion and Mrs. McAlpin, a clan was -gathering at the mouth of Laurel Branch. It was Ransom Turner's clan. A -strangely silent, uncommunicative people, the mountaineers of the -Cumberlands seldom confide fully in those who have but late come to live -among them. Ransom Turner and the men of his clan had not confided their -suspicions, nor even all that they knew about Florence's strange -disappearance, to either Marion nor Mrs. McAlpin. - -Having always suspected that the mysterious child, Hallie, had somehow -strayed beyond the portals of the gate that led to the head of the creek, -and that she belonged to that silent, forbidden land beyond, they had -assumed that she had found her way back to her home. - -That Florence had followed Hallie beyond the gate, they had suspected at -once. As time passed and she did not return, this suspicion, aided by -certain rumors that came to their ears, became a conviction. - -"Hit's up there she are!" Ransom Turner had been heard to whisper more -than once. - -"Hit certain are!" came with a nod of wise heads for answer. - -Now it was the day before Florence's trial, and the school election as -well. Ransom's men did not like the stinging remarks that came from the -camp of Black Blevens. - -"To-morrow's the trial," Ransom had said. "She's bound to be here. Go -tell the boys to git up their rifles an' pistol guns an' come here at -sunset." - -This was said to a trusty henchman, who was away at once. In a small -clearing a little way up the side of Big Black Mountain, a clearing -completely surrounded by thickets of laurel and mountain ivy, the men -were now straying in to drop silently down upon the grass. - -A grim, silent group they were. Here was a lanky, long-bearded patriarch -with a squirrel rifle that stood as tall as he, and here a boy of sixteen -with a shiny modern rifle. Here were dark-bearded, middle-aged men with -leather holsters buckled to their belts. - -Conversation was all in whispers. One caught but fragments of it. - -"Hit's whar she are." - -"Hit's plumb quare about Bud Wax." - -"Will they fight, you reckon?" - -"Sure they will." - -"Bud's been home once, I hearn tell. Hit's what Bud said that made Ransom -so sartin about her bein' up thar." - -So the whispering went on and more men straggled in as the shadows fell. - -The people at the mouth of Laurel Branch had always resented the presence -of their mysterious neighbors beyond the stone gateway. To a certain -degree, also, they had feared them. Things mysterious inspire terror. -Tales of their strange doings had not grown smaller in their telling. The -one-armed giant had become a veritable Cyclops. The beady-eyed stranger, -who had once or twice been seen beyond the gates, was a man of strangely -magic power. Such were the yarns that had been spun. - -To-night, however, all these spells must vanish before the demand of cold -steel. To-morrow was trial day and election day. Florence was needed. She -must be at the mouth of Laurel Branch at sun up. They meant to bring her -home. As soon as darkness fell these grim warriors of the hills meant to -march past that stone gateway. If a sentry attempted to stop them he -would be silenced. They would ask the release of their teacher, the one -who had dared to stand and fight for their rights and the rights of their -little ones. If they could secure her release by peaceable means they -would do it. If it meant a fight, then a fight it would be. - -And so, at the very hour when Florence trudged up the dark and shadowy -trail, the clan was gathering. - -As for Florence, as has been said, she had come to what appeared to be a -sudden end of the trail. Before her was a towering wall of rocks. - -But a well trodden path, beaten hard by the tread of hundreds who have -passed that way, does not end so abruptly. Like the current of a sunken -river, it must always go somewhere. By a careful examination of her -surroundings, the girl found that certain sandstone boulders that lay in -jagged heaps to the right of her were worn smooth. These smooth spots, -she reasoned, had been made by human feet. - -At once, with a bound, she was away up this natural stairway. Up, up, up -she climbed till her heart thumped wildly and her head whirled. Then, to -her vast surprise, just as she reached the topmost pinnacle she came upon -a black heap of coal and directly before her a coal shaft yawned. - -"A coal mine!" she exclaimed in disgust, sinking down breathless upon a -rock. "I have come all this way to find only a coal mine!" - -In these mountains, this was no discovery. The mountains were full of -coal. There was wanted only a railroad to make the country rich. But to -think that she had come all this way in the hope of finding a way out, -only to find there was nothing left but to retrace her steps and to -choose between taking the desperate chance of slipping past that pacing -guard in the dark or remaining quietly within the gates until something -happened that would set her free. - -"And that last," she groaned, "can never be. Never! I must escape! I must -not miss my trial!" - -In the frenzy of this resolve she sprang to her feet. But what was this? -The moment's rest and the cooling breeze had quieted her heart. She could -think more clearly. This was no coal mine; could not be. A coal mine at -the top of the mountain, a mile by trail from the nearest cabin? What -folly! There were veins of coal lower down. She had seen them, and open -coal mines, too, almost at the cabin's door. What, then, could this mean? -Here was coal, a coal vein, and an open drift, and yet it was not a mine. - -Boldly she set a foot inside the dark opening. At once her foot shot from -beneath her and she went sprawling. Only by a desperate clutching at the -ragged rocks at her side was she prevented from gliding downward into a -dark, unknown abyss. - -Frightened, with hands lacerated by the sudden gripping of the rocks, and -with heart beating wildly, she clung there panting until her head cooled -and she realized that she was resting on a rocky step. - -Drawing herself up, she found she was able to sit in a comfortable -position and gaze about her. Just before her was utter darkness; behind -her was the fading light of day. - -Groping about in her pocket, she found a box of safety matches. Having -lighted one of these she held it far out before her. At once her lips -parted in an exclamation of surprise. - -Before her, leading down, down, down, was a rude stairway cut in solid -rock. On either side of the stairway were mine props, and back of these -were black walls of coal. - -It was all clear to her in an instant; not all, perhaps, but much. There -were many just such veins of coal as this in the rockiest portions of the -Cumberlands. She had heard of them. After the ages had passed when coal -had been deposited upon the surface of the earth and strata of earth and -rocks piled upon them, there had come some tremendous disturbance of the -earth's surface which had tilted rocks and coal deposits as well, and -this was just such a vein. - -There was nothing so strange about that, but it was strange to find this -natural stairway leading downward to some regions unknown. - -Just as her match flickered and went out her eyes caught the gleam of -something white in a niche of the rock at her side. At once she was -fumbling eagerly for another match. - -To her consternation, in her excitement she let the box drop from her -fingers. - -Bump, bump, bump, it went down the steps. For an instant her heart stood -still. Had it gone on down? Was she left without a light? She thought it -had stopped on the third step, but could not be sure. - -Slowly, carefully, she felt her way over the damp and slippery steps. One -step, two, three. She felt them over carefully. No matches. Her heart -sank. One more step, a hasty groping in the dark, then a cry of joy. She -gripped the box. - -The next moment the place was alight with a reddish yellow glow, and the -next instant, standing up, she was grasping the white object that had -caught her eye. It was one of four tallow candles that lay in a rocky -niche. - -Holding her match to it, she had the joy of seeing its wick sputter, then -flame up. - -One moment she hesitated. Then, putting one of the candles in her pocket, -and holding another well before her, with a firm and steady step she -began the descent into the mysterious cavern. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - A TENSE SITUATION - - -It was mysterious, haunting, spectral. "Like going down into the tomb of -some ancient Egyptian king," Florence told herself as, with candle held -well out before her, and every step carefully poised, she made her way -down the long stone stairway. - -Black walls of coal were on either side. Before these the mine props -stood like grim sentinels. The shadows of these, cast by the flickering -light of the candle, appeared to take on life as they leaped, swaying and -dancing, against the dusky walls. - -Suddenly the girl caught her breath. A puff of air had all but -extinguished her candle. - -"And it came from below, not from above!" she breathed. - -Scarcely had she made this astonishing discovery when she rounded a curve -in the stairway and came in sight of a square of light. This distant -illumination, the natural light of day, coming from the outside, seemed -to beckon her on. - -Then of a sudden it all came to her. "A tunnel!" she exclaimed. "Not the -entrance to a mine, but a tunnel, a tunnel through this narrow peak of -the mountain. Oh, joy! I've found the way out!" - -In her eagerness she plunged down the stone stairway at a rate which -threatened to send her pitching headlong. But sure-footed athlete that -she was, she kept her balance and in another moment, panting, quite out -of breath, she threw herself upon a huge flat rock that, lighted by the -last rays of the setting sun, seemed a nugget of pure gold. - -The scene her eyes gazed upon was of matchless beauty. The crests of the -mountains, still beamed upon by the setting sun, glowed like so many -domes of fire, while farther down the lower hillsides and valleys were -shrouded in impenetrable shadows broken only by the silver thread of a -stream that idled down a valley. - -Suddenly the girl sprang to her feet. The whole thing had come to her in -a flash. Wishing to be left alone, the mysterious people at the head of -Laurel Branch had cut a pass through the solid mountain peak at a narrow -place. They alone knew of it. Through this pass they carried the produce -from their rough little farms to the coal mines far, far below. There -they bartered them for shoes, salt, calico, and whatever their meager -existence demanded. - -"And this," she told herself, "is the way the missing peddler and the -one-armed fiddler have gone. Being wanderers by profession, they have -gone through this pass and never been seen again by the people at the -mouth of Laurel Branch. - -"And that," she exclaimed, quite overcome by the thought, "that means -that these people at the head of Laurel Branch are honest folks. They are -not robbers and murderers. I had hoped it might be so. It did not seem -possible that old Job could sit there by the fire, spelling out the words -of his Bible, then lay the grand old Book aside to go out robbing and -killing." - -Then the girl did a strange thing. Relighting her candle, she picked her -way over the rocks back to the entrance to the tunnel, then slowly, with -thoughtful mind and careful tread, began ascending the stone stairway. -She was going back. - - * * * * * * * * - -In the meantime, down at the mouth of Laurel Branch, in the heart of the -laurel thicket, the low murmur of voices increased in volume. They were -coming--the clan was gathering. Gaunt old men with white beards were -there, men who had fought in the Civil War; middle-aged men who had -packed a gun in the Anson-Rankin feud of twenty years before; and -beardless boys who had never fired a shot except at squirrel or possum. -One name was on every tongue, that of Florence Ormsby. - -As for Florence, while the night shadows darkened she was making her way -down the mountain trail, back to the cabin of old Job, the one-armed -giant. - -Once there, she threw off her hat and coat and drew up a chair to the -fire. - -"Et?" the giant asked from his corner. - -The girl shook her head. - -"Want a snack?" - -Another shake, then again silence. - -For a long while the nickel alarm clock above the mantel raced against -time and its constant tick-tick was the only sound that disturbed the -Sabbath-like stillness. - -At last the aged giant cleared his throat with surprising difficulty, -then spoke: - -"I reckon it peers plumb quare to you all that we all stay up here in -these here mountains this away?" - -Florence did not answer. She merely bent forward with an air of great -expectancy on her face. - -"Hit might be quare. Then again it mightn't. Listen, Miss, hit's like -this." - -Then for fifteen minutes, in his inimitable mountain dialect and drawl, -the old man poured into her eager ears a story of such bitter battling -for life, such a tale of feud fighting, as she had never before dreamed -of hearing from human lips. - -There were tales of stalwart men shot down on their very doorsteps, of -battles in the night, of men carried from their homes to be seen no more. - -All this had happened somewhere in the mountains, back of Big Black -Mountain, beyond Poor Fork, over Pine Mountain, then back and still back. - -When there remained but a remnant of what had once been a powerful -family, the old giant, having heard of this vacant land at the head of -Laurel Branch, had at last persuaded his followers to come here to live. -And that there might be no more battles and bloodshed, they had shut -themselves completely out from other people of the mountains. Only by a -secret passage had they come and gone, to trade and barter in the valley -below. - -How strange life is! Even as this old man was telling of their long -search for peace and how at last they had found it, forty men and boys, -grim, determined mountain folks with rifles in hand, were marching upon -the stone gateway which had heretofore held them back. It was Ransom -Turner's clan. - -"And what's this I hearn tell about?" the old giant exclaimed in a -rumbling tone of anger. "What about them sorry people at the mouth of the -crick takin' you up fer gun totin'?" - -Florence started. So intense had been her interest in the story that she -had quite forgotten her own troubles. - -"They--they're to try me to-morrow," she faltered. - -"Fer gun totin'?" - -"Yes." - -"A woman? Fer gun totin'!" he mused. "Mounting folks have come tew that! - -"And this 'lection, this school 'lection," he rumbled with a sudden -change of subject. "How do you reckon about that?" - -"That is to-morrow, too, and it's lost." - -"So I hearn tell," the old man mused. "So I hearn tell. But you can't -always reckon right about these here things, kin you?" - -There was almost jocular freedom in the old man's tones, something quite -different from his Moses-like dignity of other times. - -Again his tone changed. It was tender now. - -"You've been mighty nice and a right smart help to us with little Hallie. -I reckon she's might nigh well now. I reckon as how you might--" - -The old man paused as if reluctant to say the words that had forced their -way to his lips. Leaving the sentence unfinished, he fumbled about in the -corner for a poker. Having found it, he gave the fire such a jabbing as -sent the sparks dancing by thousands up the chimney. - -There were watchers who saw those sparks soaring skyward and wondered at -them--forty watchers, the men of Ransom Turner's clan. - -At that very moment, too, the guard behind the stone gateway, catching -the shuffle of feet behind the thicket of paw-paws that grew just outside -the gate, caught his breath hard and, shifting his rifle to the other -arm, dropped back into the deeper shadows. - -"As I was about to remark," the old man turned to Florence with a look of -resolution on his face, "'t'ain't no mite o' sense in keepin' you here, -not narry 'nother minute. There's little Hallie, she's might nigh well. -There's that sorry trial to-morrow, an' that 'lection. They'll be ailing -fer you down there at the mouth of the creek, plumb ailin', so it's -fittin' that you'd go. You tell Zeb Howard down thar by the gate that I -sent you, and I reckon he'll let you by." - -Florence caught her breath. She had heard the old man's story. She was -free. She might go. For a moment, as a wild bird, made captive for a day -and then set free hesitates before his first free flight, she sat there -in silence. Then, as if impelled by the sense of impending peril and a -great need, she rose and hurried away. - -Need enough there was, too. Her fleet feet could not cover that distance -too quickly, for at that moment hot words were passing thick and fast -before the stone gateway. - -As she paused in her sudden flight she caught the sound of these angry -voices. At first indistinct, then growing louder as she rounded a curve, -she caught fragments of sentences: - -"Narry a step."--"Hit are!"--"Hit are not!"--"Drop down the barrel of -that ar gun!"--"Hit's plumb unnatural!" - -Then, having caught a hint of the meaning of it all, she paused to strain -her ears to catch the lowest word. At that moment there came the ominous -click of a cartridge being thrown into its place in a rifle barrel. This -sound came from within the gate. - -"The guard," she whispered. - -"I tell you all plain," there came from the same spot a second later, "we -all don't mean you all narry bit of harm. You all go on back down that -crick. The land down thar belongs to you all. Up here it's ourn. Don't -let's have any trouble." - -"'An' I'm tellin' you, stranger," came in an equally insistent voice, "we -all are goin' through. You are got someone up that we want and are goin' -to git!" - -"Hain't narry one up yonder that's not aimin' to stay." - -"Come on, boys!" Florence caught these words spoken in low tones by a -voice that sounded familiar. The voice was terrifying in its seriousness. -"We got to go in thar. Hain't no other way. When I say the word start -comin' on an' firin' as you come. He can't git all of us. Mebby he won't -get airy one. 'T'ain't no use a talkin' to him nohow." - -Florence caught her breath. Her heart paused for a second, then went -racing. Her knees trembled. She had heard much of mountain feud fights. -Now she was about to witness one. Worse than that, she must be directly -in the path of the bullets. At realization of this she wanted to flee, -but her feet would not obey her. So there she stood as if rooted to the -spot. - -Though her feet were still, her brain was racing. She had recognized the -voice of the last speaker, Ransom Turner. A good man does not start a -feud fight over a trifle. Why had they come? Who was this person they had -come to demand? Was it a friend, or some outlaw fleeing from justice? She -did not have long to wait. - -"Just a minute, strangers," came in calm tones from within the gates. -"You kin get me maybe--seem's how there's a army of you--but count on it, -I'll get a lot of you first. I'm the shootinest man as I reckon has most -ever made a crop on Laurel Branch. But I'm plumb peaceably minded, too. -Hain't rarin' up fer no killin'. Now what I wants to know is, who might -that air person be that you all come after?" - -"You know well enough," drawled Ransom Turner. "But so's you'll know -agin', I'll tell you. Hit's our teacher, Florence Ormsby." - -Florence Ormsby! The girl's own name sounded strange to her. So they were -risking their lives to save her! And she was an outsider! A great wave of -dizziness came over her. She fought it off. She tried to speak. Her -tongue clung to the roof of her mouth. Powerless to move, she stood there -gasping. - -"Come on, boys! 'T'ain't no use foolin' further." - -The grim tones of the doughty little leader loosed the girl's tongue. -Then, with tones that were little less than shrieks, she cried: - -"Ransom! Ransom Turner! Don't! Don't do it! I'm here. It's all right. I'm -coming out." - -After this shouted speech that awoke shrill echoes along the mountain -side, there fell a moment of breathless silence, such a silence as is -perhaps seldom felt save on a battlefield after the declaration of a -truce. - -Then, in a tone that told of deeper emotional struggle, there came from -Ransom Turner's lips: - -"Are you shore, Miss Florence? Are hit all right?" - -"Quite all right," she said in as steady a tone as she could command. -"See! I am coming down." - -Moving quietly, she passed the last tall pine, the last clump of -rhododendrons within the gate, then the massive portals, and a moment -later found herself among her own people, free. - -Free! How good it seemed! And yet, as between two silent mountaineers she -walked back to the settlement and the whipsawed house, she felt the -burdens of these simple people come back to her shoulders like a crushing -weight. - -"To-morrow," she whispered. "The trial and the election, and then what?" - -Later that night, after a joyous reunion and a splendid supper in the -whipsawed cabin, she lay once more in her own bed, staring up at the -ceiling where the flashes of a dying fire played. Then it was that she -noted something strange. The board they had once taken from the ceiling -that they might get into the attic had been once more removed, then -replaced. She knew this, for this time it had been put back with the ends -reversed. - -Vaguely her mind played with this thought. Who had been up there? What -had they found? Georgia gold? Confederate gold? - -She wondered about the election; her trial; Bud Wax. Wondered a little -about Marion, who had gone down the branch to stay all night with -Patience Madden, the oldest girl in their school. Was she sleeping safely -in Patience's cabin? In this strange community no one seemed quite safe. - -She wondered a little about the deed for the Powell coal land and the -commission they were to receive--sometime. When would that be? She -wondered if she would ever see any of the men who had kidnapped her. Her -mental picture of them was very vivid. - -"If I ever saw them again I would know them," she told herself. - -At that she turned over and fell asleep. - -The adventures of the night for Florence were done; for Marion they were -now about to begin. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - HALLIE KIDNAPPED - - -Marion was wide awake. She lay beneath home-woven blankets in Patience -Madden's cabin. The room was dark. It was night; time for sleep. The -mountain side was very still. Even the stream, Pounding Mill Creek, -tumbling down Little Black Mountain, murmured softly. - -"I should sleep," she told herself. "To-morrow is the big day. Election. -Trial. One big day. Twenty-for hours must decide all." - -Do coming events truly cast their shadows before them, and do their -shadows disturb us, rob us of our sleep? However that may be, Marion -could not sleep. - -At last, rising noiselessly, for Patience slept peacefully in the narrow -bed next to her own, she threw a blanket over her shoulders and stole out -upon the porch. Here she dropped into a rustic chair to sit staring -dreamily at the moon. - -"Old moon," she whispered, "what do you see to-night?" - -Had the moon answered her question she would have sprung to her feet in -alarm. As it was, she sat quite still, sat there until with a sudden -start she caught the slow and steady tramp of horses on the trail below. - -"Who--who can that be?" she whispered as she shrank far back into the -shadows. - -She was soon enough to know. Two horses swung around a curve in the trail -not five rods from the cabin. At that instant the moon, coming out from -behind a filmy cloud, shone full upon them. - -"A tall slim man and a short one," she thought to herself. "Sounds -vaguely familiar. Where have I--" She started suddenly. Florence had told -her of them. These were the men who had held her prisoner when she had -gone to the back of Pine Mountain to get an option on the Powell coal -tract. - -A second shock following this one came near knocking her from her chair. -The tall man carried a bundle--something wrapped in a blanket. - -"A child," she whispered. A chill ran up her spine. She hardly knew why. - -A second later she knew. As the horses wheeled sharply to avoid a great -boulder that lay against the trail, the face of the child, lighted up by -the moon, became plainly visible. - -"Little Hallie!" Marion exclaimed under her breath. - -In an instant she was out of her chair and in the room shaking the -mountain girl and whispering hoarsely: - -"Patience! Patience! Wake up! They've kidnapped little Hallie!" - -"Wha--where? Why?" the mountain girl stammered, still half asleep. - -Sinking down upon the bed and burying her face in her hands, Marion tried -to think. Little Hallie had been kidnapped. Why? For ransom? Nothing -seemed more absurd. Who would pay? The child had been poorly dressed when -she was brought to their cabin. - -"And yet," Marion thought, "what do we really know of her?" - -She caught herself short up. This was no time for speculation. What was -to be done? There were no men in the cabin. She was alone with the -sixteen year old mountain girl. The nearest cabin was a half mile down -the creek. - -"Patience," she said suddenly, "there are no men here to follow them. -They have kidnapped little Hallie. They can't mean her any good. Shall we -go?" - -For answer the mountain girl sprang out of the room and went racing down -the stairs. - -A lamp was lighted. Rough, serviceable garments of khaki were scrambled -into, shoes were hurriedly laced. They were ready to go when Marion -thought of food. They might be away for hours, perhaps days. - -Snatching down a bag she raced to the kitchen, there to fill the bag with -corn pone, cold sweet potatoes, crackers, cookies and cheese. - -When she returned, to her astonishment she found Patience calmly ramming -home a charge in the long-barreled squirrel rifle which had hung over the -fireplace. - -"Will--will it shoot?" she faltered. - -"Awful straight." - -"Can you shoot it?" - -The mountain girl gave her a look of scorn. "In the mountains everyone -shoots." - -"Good! I'm glad!" There was warmth in the girl's tone. There was comfort -in knowing that though there was no man in their party, there was a rifle -carried by a girl who knew well how to handle it. - -A moment more and they were feeling the damp night air upon their cheeks. -It was a narrow trail they were following. Now and then as they hurried -forward the dew drenched branch of dogwood or rhododendron slapped them -full in the face. Here and there some wild creature, frightened from the -trail, went bounding away into the bush. - -It was spooky enough, this climbing higher and higher up the side of -Little Black Mountain in the dead of night. Spooky and dangerous, too. -What if those men, catching the sound of their footsteps behind them, -should draw aside from the trail and waylay them? Marion dared not dwell -on this. One thing was uppermost in her mind--the saving of Little -Hallie. How was this to be done? She could not tell. The answer would be -there when the time came. At all hazards the men must be followed. - -So, drenched by dripping dew, torn at by out-reaching brambles, catching -the faint tinge of waters in the gulch far below, they ascended higher -and higher until at last they had reached the crest. - -"See!" whispered Patience as they rested here. "There are Hallie's -footprints!" - -It was true. Having dismounted, that they might rest their tired muscles, -the men had lifted the child to the ground. - -Marion found comfort in this. "They can't be entirely bad," she told -herself. "They think of the child's comfort." - -A moment's rest, and they were away along the trail that followed the -ridge for some distance. - -They marched along in silence until they came to the spot where the trail -left the ridge to plunge down the steep slope on the other side. - -"Listen!" Patience whispered, suddenly gripping her companion's arm. - -As they listened, breathless, from somewhere far below there came the -deep, drawn-out bay of a hound. - -"See!" exclaimed the mountain girl, pointing to the ground. Where the -trail left the ridge, a fresh track had joined that of the kidnappers. It -was the trail of a man and two huge dogs. - -"Hounds!" whispered Patience. "They have hounds. Against these we have no -chance. They will smell us a long way off. They will come after us. I can -shoot but one. The other--" she paused to shudder. - -"And yet we must go on! Think of little Hallie!" - -"Yes," said the brave mountain girl, "we must go on!" Turning, she led -the way down the mountain. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - BY THE AID OF A COON - - -Climbing up the mountain side without making a sound had not been easy. -Going down it was doubly difficult. Now a rock, slipping from a ledge at -the side of the trail, went crashing down through the sloping forest. Now -a pebble, rolling beneath Marion's foot, sent her with a thud to the -ground. And now the dead branch of a tree, clung to for a second's rest, -gave way with a screaming snap that must have been heard a mile away. - -A half mile down the trail they came upon a cabin. A mere shack built of -logs with a low chimney, with one door and no windows, it could hardly be -called a human habitation. - -Yet there were people sleeping here, Marion did not doubt. - -"Sha--shall we?" she whispered as she stood near the door. - -"'T'wouldn't do narry bit o' good. No 'count folks," whispered Patience. - -They were about to pass on when the rattle of a chain caused Marion to -start and shudder. - -"Coon, pet coon," whispered the mountain girl, pointing to a dark corner -where a coon, chained to a low shrub, was standing on his haunches and -eyeing them curiously. - -"That coon," whispered Patience slowly, "might be some good to us." - -Marion did not see how it possibly could, but she did not answer. - -As they passed on down the trail Patience paused often to study the hoof -marks in the soft earth. Once, at the juncture of a small stream with the -larger creek, she paused for some time, only to shake her head and -murmur: - -"No, they have gone on down." - -At the next turn she paused again. This time she did not go on, but, -pointing up a grass grown trail to the left, said. - -"They're gone up to yonder clearin'. Camp there, I reckon. Wish we had -that coon." - -"Why? What would we--" - -But Patience was already too far up the new trail to catch Marion's -whispered question. - -As they rounded a clump of pawpaws Patience whispered: "They're camped up -yonder. I saw the light of their fire." - -"Good!" whispered Marion. "Perhaps we can turn the tables and steal her -back." - -"But the hounds!" said Patience. - -"Oh yes, the hounds," Marion repeated wearily. - -"That coon, now," said Patience thoughtfully, "he might be a heap of help -to us." - -"How?" said Marion. - -Patience did not reply. When she at last spoke, it was to suggest that -they make their way up the far side of the slope that they might be sure -the ones they followed were camping there. Wearily they followed the -creek and at last began the ascent. - -Not a word was spoken as they trudged cautiously forward. Every care was -taken not to cause the least sound. Hounds, they knew all too well, have -sharp ears. So, darting from bush to bush and from tree to tree, they -came at last to a spot directly over a cliff where, by parting branches, -they might get a fair view of the deserted cabin and the clearing. - -"Someone there," whispered Marion. "See! There's a wisp of smoke curling -from the chimney." - -For a time they sat silently intent. - -Suddenly Marion's heart stopped beating! Had she caught the low cry of a -child? Yes, there it was again. - -"Hallie," she whispered, springing to her feet. "I must go to her." - -"No! No!" Patience whispered tensely. "They are bad men. They would kill -you." - -"But Hallie." The girl's heart was wrung by the thought of the innocent -child's suffering. - -"Hallie's all right for now. You have heard her cry in that way often -before. It's just a fretful, sleepy cry. She will soon fall asleep." - -It was true. Even as they waited and listened the crying ceased and over -the hills and the forest there fell the hush of night. - -Into this hush Patience burst with an exceedingly strange whispered -remark: - -"If only we had that coon. Marion, have you any money?" - -"Five dollars." - -"Oh! Good! They'd sell it for that, I am sure. But we won't ask them; -just pin the money to the coon's box." - -"But it's all we have. We will need food. The kidnappers may go to the -railroad. We will need money. Anyway, why the coon?" - -Patience did not answer. Snatching the money, she was away in the night, -leaving Marion alone in the dark and with the strange men scarcely more -than a stone's throw beneath her. - -Who can tell what this city girl's thoughts were as she sat there alone -with the silence of night hovering over her? Whatever the thoughts might -have been, they were at last broken in upon by the low rattle of a chain. -Beside her stood Patience and in her arms, cuddled up like a kitten, was -the pet coon. - -"Now what in the world did you do that for?" demanded Marion as, having -picked up Patience's long squirrel rifle, she came trudging after her. - -"Wait and see!" she panted. - -Very weary and very skeptical, Marion waited. Having once more reached -the crest of the cliff, Patience felt her way about until she had located -a tall young hickory tree with branches some six feet from the ground. - -Placing the coon on the ground and handing the chain to Marion, she -whispered: "Give me a lift to the first limb. Then hand me the coon." - -Having complied with her request, Marion leaned wearily upon the rifle -while she listened to the sound of her companion scaling the tree, branch -by branch. - -Presently she heard Patience coming down. When at last Patience caught -the lowest branch and swung herself down Marion saw that her hands were -empty. - -"C'mon!" Patience whispered hoarsely as she dragged her companion through -the brush. - -In silence they skirted the mountain side until they were almost directly -above the cabin. - -"Hist! Listen!" Patience came to a sudden standstill. - -"Wha--what is it?" the other girl breathed. - -"It's the sound a coon makes when he's lonesome. But listen!" - -A new and louder sound burst upon their ears. There was no need for -asking what this was. Marion knew all too well. It was the booming baying -of a hound. The next second he was joined by his companion. - -"Are they coming this way?" asked Marion, while a cold chill shook her -from head to foot. - -"No." There was a quiet assurance in Patience's tone. "We've made no -sound. It isn't us they hear. It's that coon. They'll race over to that -tree and bay up at it if the men'll let 'em, and I think they will." - -"And then they'll get on our scent and--and it will all be over!" -Marion's teeth were chattering in spite of her. - -That this was a possibility she had not thought of was told by the long -moment of silence before the mountain girl spoke. - -"Well, they might," she whispered, measuring her words, "but a hound's a -hound, and all hounds love to bay a coon tree. We'll just have to wait -and see." - -Waiting out there in the dark forest with every least sound, the flutter -of a bird or the movement of some small living thing in the grass at -their feet giving them a start, was not the easiest thing in the world. -Indeed, Marion found it almost the hardest. - -Now and again there came the call of the coon, then the booming of the -hounds. - -"Why don't they let them go?" Patience murmured impatiently. "If they -don't; if--" - -She paused in the midst of a sentence to listen. Then in a joyous whisper -she exclaimed: - -"There! There they go!" - -It was true. As Marion strained her ears she caught the sound of the -hounds tearing away through the brush. - -But even as she listened her heart suddenly went wild. What if the hounds -had somehow gotten scent of them and were coming their way? How terrible -that would be! They were sure to be great, gaunt, vicious beasts. - -In the darkness it was impossible to tell what direction they were -taking. Aided by her heightened imagination, she fancied the sound of -their rush through the bushes growing louder, seemed to catch more -plainly their hoarse breathing. - -Wildly she strained her eyes in the dark, searching for a tree that she -might climb, but in vain. The trees were either too large, with branches -twenty feet in air, or too slender to bear her weight. In her wild terror -she was about to flee when again Patience whispered: - -"There they go!" - -"Who?" Marion whispered back. - -"The men. They are all alike--hounds and mountain men. They can't stand -the call of a coon. Oh, thank God! Our chance is coming. See!" - -As she looked toward the cabin Marion did see. Not alone did she see the -men, but saw their faces plainly. By the glaring light of a burning pine -knot held aloft by one of the men, faces of three tall, gaunt, -stubby-whiskered men were silhouetted against the shadows of night. - -"Know them?" Marion whispered as they disappeared behind a clump of -trees. - -"Narry a one." - -"I guess that's all of them," Patience whispered a moment later. "Away, -now, for little Hallie. We'll have to take a chance. C'mon, and -remember--not a sound. Not a snap of a twig, not a breath!" - -The next moment found them silently sliding down the mountain. Now -pausing, holding their breath to listen, they caught the roar of the -hounds, the crash of the men making their way through the brush. Now they -came to a dense thicket of briars that tore at their clothes. Luckily -they were clad in suits of stout khaki. Now they plunged down a deep -ravine that threatened to be their undoing. At last they were up the -other side and nearing the cabin. - -"Have to work fast!" panted Patience. "Find--find her! Pick her up. Don't -wake her! Don't let her cry! Then go down the mountain--fast--fast as we -can!" - -Then they caught sight of the dark bulk of the cabin ahead of them. A -faint light shone in the open doorway. - -"A--a light--" faltered Marion, drawing her companion back. "Maybe a man -has been left behind." - -"Just the fire on the hearth, I guess. Anyway, we have to risk it. -C'mon." - -Again they crept forward. Now they were a hundred yards away, now fifty, -now twenty-five, and now, with hearts beating wildly, they were skirting -the cabin. - -Dropping to the ground, Patience crept to the doorway. One glance within -and she was up on hands and knees, creeping rapidly forward. - -One moment of tense silence and she appeared at the door. In her arms was -a large bundle. - -"Got--got her," she breathed. "Now go! Go fast! C'mon." - -Once more they crept forward through the dark. A moment passed, another, -and yet another. A hundred yards below the cabin they were making rapid -progress in spite of fallen logs, brush and the dark, when Patience -suddenly stopped and gripped Marion's arm. - -"Listen!" she breathed. - -"Wha--what is it?" - -"The hounds! They're baying!" - -"They've been baying for a long time." - -"It--it's different now. They've got our scent. They're on our trail. -C'mon! We've got to go fast!" - -"Where to?" - -"I don't know, but come on!" - - * * * * * * * * - -What was happening during all this time at the head of Laurel Branch -beyond the natural gateway? Had old Job and his followers discovered that -little Hallie had been stolen? And were they hot on the trail of the -kidnappers? Would they arrive in time to save the little captive and her -brave deliverers? - -They had indeed discovered their loss and were mourning it bitterly. As -old Job sat in the chimney corner reading his well worn Bible, from time -to time a tear fell upon the faded pages. But the search had not begun; -might not begin for several days. Such are the slow and silent ways of -mountain folks. Besides, no clew had been left for them to follow. The -kidnappers had entered the valley on foot. Fortune had favored them. It -was during the excitement over the narrowly averted raid by Ransom -Turner's men that they had slipped into the cabin and had carried away -the sleeping child. - -On the rocky creek-bottom road the shoes of the kidnappers made no -imprint. It was only after walking two miles that they mounted horses, -concealed all this time in a paw-paw thicket, and rode away. No aid could -be expected from old Job's men. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - A PERILOUS GLIDE - - -As she dashed after her companion, Marion felt a dizzy wave of faintness -sweep over her. With her knees all but refusing to support her, she -seemed in danger of plunging head foremost down the mountain side. By a -supreme effort she regained control of herself and, still gripping the -long squirrel rifle, followed on as best she could. - -After stumbling through brush and over logs, with the baying of hounds -growing louder in their ears, they came to the bed of a small ravine. -There was water here and it offered better going. Besides, it might throw -the hounds off the trail. So, sometimes to their ankles and sometimes to -their knees in water, they plunged forward. - -"Keep the rifle dry," Patience panted back. "We may need it." - -"Would--would you shoot?" Marion asked. - -"I'd shoot anything to save Hallie." - -The child, now half awake, was crying softly to herself. - -Suddenly Patience came to a standstill. - -"Listen!" she whispered. - -Marion did listen, and what she heard caused her to shrink back in fear. -Above the baying of the hounds and the shouts of men who had doubtless -discovered that Hallie was gone, came the sound of water as it rushed -over the cliff to dash upon the rocks far below. So near did it seem that -Marion shrank back in fear lest she be washed over the precipice. - -"Blocked!" she whispered. - -"Here," said Patience, "you take Hallie. Give me the rifle. Now come on. -It may not be too late." She went scrambling up the bank of the ravine. -Twice she slipped and seemed about to fall back, but each time grasped -the friendly branch of some shrub for support. Many times she held out a -helping hand to the other less experienced climber. - -At last with a deep breath, Patience leaped upon the crest of the ridge. - -"Listen!" she whispered. "The hounds! They've lost the scent. The water -did that. There's a chance yet. C'mon!" - -So weary were her limbs, so spent her strength, that Marion felt she -would rather lie down and die than to go on, but the thought of the -innocent child she protected gave her new strength. So down the other -side of the ridge they dashed. - -"Here's hoping for better luck this time," sighed Patience as she parted -the bushes that lined the next ravine. Hardly had she thrust her right -foot forward than she slipped, then started gliding downward. Only a -fortunate grab at an overhanging bough saved her from a fall. - -"What is it?" asked Marion. - -"It's a skidway for logs," whispered Patience, struggling to regain her -footing. "It's our chance. We'll have to be careful, awful careful, but -it will take us to the river. Mebby down there in the bottoms there's -some one who'll help us." - -With a few well chosen words she explained to her companion that when the -white wood timber had been cut down from the mountains some years -previous the woodsmen had felled trees into the ravine and having trimmed -the branches from them had formed of them a steep chute down which -thousands of logs had been sent gliding and booming to the river. - -"It's slippery," the mountain girl warned, "but if we are careful we can -make it. Hold Hallie with one hand, hug the bank and cling to branches -with the other. I'll go before you. If you slip I'll try to stop you." - -Then in silence, foot by foot, yard by yard, rod by rod, they made their -way down the treacherous pathway. Now they came upon a moss-grown portion -that was safe as a sidewalk, and now there lay before them the shining -whiteness of logs over which water had run until they were smooth as -polished mahogany. Gliding, climbing, faltering, they made their way -downward. - -"Listen!" whispered Patience at last. "The hounds! They're on our trail -again." - -Then sudden disaster from a new field threatened. At a slight bend in the -ravine they came upon a log chute. A great quantity of debris--twigs, -rotten limbs, leaves and dead grass had collected in the chute and the -whole lay directly in the path. As they climbed confidently upon it the -whole mass broke away and the next moment, like children on a pillow in a -play chute, they were gliding downward. - -Faster, faster, with fear tugging at their hearts, they flew downward. -With no power to help themselves, dumb with apprehension they sat there, -sensing brush and trees rushing past them, feeling the sharp cut of -leaves on their cheeks until Marion found her tongue to scream: - -"Patience, are we going into the river?" - -"If--if nothing happens first," stammered the mountain girl, for the -first time truly frightened. - -"Can you swim?" - -"Yes, can you?" - -"Yes. Listen, Patience. We are older, we can stand much. Hallie is a -small child. The cold of the river will kill her. Take off your cape and -make it into a ball. Try to keep it dry. I'll do the best I can to -protect her. Somehow we'll make shore. We--" - -At that instant her lips were sealed by the sight that burst upon her -startled eyes. Apparently directly beneath them, its silently sweeping -waters yellow and swollen by recent rains, lay the river and upon it, -having just emerged from behind a cloud, shone the moon. - -The perils that lay before the two girls and their small charge, though -great enough, were not so imminent as they had appeared. A sudden turn in -the chute brought them to a more gradual slope. When at last their -cushion of debris floated out upon the river, so slight was the splash it -made that it seemed hard to believe that they had reached the end of -their perilous glide to safety. But there was still danger, for all too -soon their frail raft was water-logged and sinking. - -"Remember the cape," cautioned Marion as, with her left hand holding -little Hallie tightly upon what was left of the raft, she struck out into -the dark, chilling waters. - -"Let--let's keep together," she called through chattering teeth. -"It--it's going to be hard, but we can make it. Let--let's try for the -other shore." - -Patience struck boldly out before her. - -In spite of Marion's best efforts to protect the child, she was getting -wet. She began to cry. The cry wrenched the older girl's heart. "If the -water makes my teeth chatter, what must it mean to her!" she thought. - -"Look!" she called to Patience. "What's that off to the right?" - -"Looks like a log, a saw log. Ought we try for it?" - -"Yes." - -Instantly the course was changed. A moment later they were clambering -aboard a great log of white wood that buoyed them up as easily as a boat. - -Sitting astride the log, Marion wrapped Patience's warm dry cape about -the child. Hardly a moment had elapsed before her crying ceased. - -Of all the strange experiences that had come to Marion, this was the most -weird. To have escaped from hounds and kidnappers with a child, to have -come gliding down here in such a strange manner, to find herself sitting -astride a huge log surrounded by black, rushing waters, and gliding -steadily forward to an unknown destination, this was adventure of the -most stirring kind. But Marion found little enough time for such -reflections. Now that she had come to a time of inaction she began to -realize how cold the water and night air were. She was seized with such a -fit of shivering that she feared she would be shaken off the log. - -"The wat--the water's better than this," she chattered, yet for the sake -of the peacefully sleeping child she decided to endure the torture as -long as possible. - -Trees and bushes along the river's bank swept by. A dog at some cabin -barked. Off in the far distance a light flickered, then went out. The -cold was becoming easier to bear. She was growing drowsy. She wanted to -sleep. Sleep--yes, that was what she needed. Sleep, one wink of sleep. -Her head fell upon her breast. The cold was overcoming her, but she did -not realize it. - -She dreamed she had left the log, to find a roaring fire right by the -river's bank, by which she was warming herself. Suddenly a jolt which -almost threw her from the log rudely brought her back to life. - -"Wha--what is it!" she exclaimed, gripping Patience with one hand and -clinging frantically to the sleeping child with the other. - -"We've gone aground," said Patience. "If we're careful we can get -ashore." - -Three minutes later, beside a clump of paw-paw bushes, they were wringing -the water from their garments. - -"I saw a light just over yonder," said Patience. "We'd better try to find -it." - -A very few steps and they were out of the brush and on a well beaten -road. A quarter mile down this road they came suddenly upon a broad -clearing, in the midst of which were three large white buildings. - -"A school!" exclaimed Marion. "The mission school! Oh, we are safe!" - -For a moment, worn out as she was by over-exertion, excitement and cold, -she was obliged to battle with an almost overwhelming desire to drop in -her tracks. Her splendid will, however, stood her in good stead and with -a firm "Let's go on," she led the way. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - THE LAST OF HER CLAN - - -There was a light in the lower right room of the nearest building. -Straight to the door of this room they went and the next second found -them blinking at the light and at the same time looking into one of the -most saintly faces they had ever seen, the motherly face of Miss Bordell, -who had for many years devoted her life to the education of mountain -children. - -The girls quickly told their story. Almost before they knew it, having -been assured that here they would be quite safe from any intruders, they -found themselves tucked in between a pair of white sheets with Hallie -sleeping peacefully between them. - -"We're safe," Marion whispered to herself, "but the mystery is not -solved. To-morrow--to-mor--" Her thoughts were never finished. Her weary -brain had closed shop for the night. - -"It's the most unusual thing I have ever heard of," said the school -principal after she had heard the girls' story the next morning. "You say -they were regular mountain folks?" - -"Yes, ma'am," Patience nodded. - -"That's what makes it so unusual," said the elderly lady, wrinkling her -brow. "Mountain folks aren't given to stealing and kidnapping. That sort -of crime seems almost foreign to their nature. I'll tell you what we will -do. The Circuit Judge, John Bascomb, happens to be down at the village. -We'll go down and talk it over with him. It's only a mile." - -So down the road to the village they marched, Marion, Patience, little -Hallie, and their benefactress. - -They had reached the first cabin that stood by the creek road when of a -sudden Patience, pulling excitedly at the principal's sleeve, whispered -hoarsely: - -"That's them there! They're the three men that carried Hallie away!" - -A single glance told Marion she was right. So great was her fear of them -that her first impulse was to snatch up Hallie and flee. But her better -judgment prevailed. Surely here they were safe. - -The men, apparently without having seen them, turned up a side path to -enter a cabin. - -"Are you sure those are the men?" asked the principal. - -"Yes, yes!" the girls answered in unison. - -"Let's hurry, then." - -A short time later they were telling their story to Judge Bascomb, a -kindly old man. - -"First thing," he said after they had finished, "is to find out who the -men are. Come on out and show me the cabin they entered." - -"H'm," he mused as he sighted the cabin. "Can't be Long Jim. That's his -cabin. He's laid up with rheumatism. Must be some of his friends. Here, -John Henry," he called to a barefoot boy. "Who's visiting at Long Jim's?" - -"Reckon hit's Black John Berkhart and his brother, Blinkie Bill, and -mebby Hog Farley." - -"H'm," said the judge. "I know 'em. We'll just step over there." - -"No, no," said Marion, hanging back. "I--I couldn't." - -"That's all right, little girl," the judge reassured her. "They're just -plain mountain folks. I can't understand their actions of yesterday, but -that's what we're going over there to find out." - -The men in the cabin appeared a little startled at sight of the judge and -the girls, but having motioned them to seats around the crude fireplace, -they sat there in stoical silence. - -"Black John," said the judge in a friendly tone, "I'm told you took this -little girl from her home yesterday and carried her away over the -mountains." - -"I 'low you're right informed, Jedge." - -"Don't you know that's kidnapping?" - -"You kin name it, Jedge. I ain't much on larnin' nohow." - -"Why did you do it?" - -"Jedge, it's this way," the black-eyed mountaineer settled himself to -explain. "That little gal there is the last of her clan, the Cawoods, the -fightenest clan that I reckon ever lived in these here mountings. They -fit us and we fit them, and I reckon, Jedge, if'n ther'd been more -Cawoods and less Berkharts there wouldn't been any Berkharts left, same's -there's only one Cawood left, an' that's little Hallie. - -"Jedge," the mountain man paused to stare moodily at the fire, "us folks -is plum tired fightin'. 'T'ain't no satisfaction to go out a hoein' corn -an' makin' crops on these here rocky hillsides when you know like as not -some feller's lying up there in the bresh above you waitin' for to put -daylight through you. And Jedge, long's there's a Cawood a-livin' in -these here mountings, even a little one like Hallie, there's some one -goin' to rise up to shoot and kill us. So, Jedge, we took her an'-- - -"No, Jedge," he protested as he saw the look of horror on the faces about -him, "we didn't aim to kill her. Reckon there ain't no mounting folk -anywhar mean as that. But, Jedge, out of the mountings thar's places I've -heard tell of, big places whar they keep orphans. Hallie bein' a true -orphan, we 'lowed we'd jest take her out thar and give her another name. -She'd grow up and never know she was a Cawood, and not nobody else'd -know, either, and then thar'd be peace in these here mountings." - -For a moment there was silence, then the judge spoke. - -"Black John," he said, "you can't make right by doing a wrong. Hallie was -not kin to you. You had no right to lay one finger upon her. You believe -in God, don't you?" The mountaineer dropped his head. "God never told you -that men would be raised up to kill your people for Hallie's sake. It was -the powers of evil and darkness that told you that. It's not true. - -"As for this crime you have committed," he said in a stern voice, "you -are accountable to the law. You should perhaps be bound over to the grand -jury, but you did the thing in ignorance--your motives were not criminal -motives. If those who were wronged are disposed to forgive you, and if -you give me your word of honor that you will never molest the child -again, I'll do my best to see that you go free." - -He turned to Patience and Marion. - -"One thing else I want to know," said Marion, her voice husky with -emotion as she turned to face Black John. "Why did you seize my friend at -the back of Pine Mountain and hold her against her will?" - -"That, Jedge," said the mountain man, talking to the judge instead of -Marion, "was part and parcel of the same plan. Little Hallie were a -stayin' at their cabin then and we thought quite natural we might trade -the older girl fer the leetle one that wasn't only just a mounting girl -noways." - -The judge looked at Marion as much as to say: "That is explained. Shall -we hold them?" - -Marion frowned. She knew mountain ways and mountain courts, knew how -seldom justice was done. She recalled a word Ransom Turner had let fall. -"Reckon a word of honor given by a mountain man's a heap site surer than -a jury trial." - -"I'll take his word, if he gives it freely," Marion said. - -"Black John, do we have your word of honor?" - -"Jedge, hit's mighty hard to see through; plumb hard, but I reckon hit's -right. I give my word, Jedge." - -The judge bowed. Then, followed by the judge, they all filed out of the -cabin. - -At ten o'clock, in her room at the whipsawed cabin, with great events -hanging in the air all about her, Marion closed her weary eyes for a few -winks of sleep. Little Hallie slept peacefully beside her. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - THE STRANGE PROCESSION - - -When Florence awoke next morning at dawn she stared wildly about her for -an instant, then settled back luxuriously among the covers. - -"Home," she breathed. "Back at the whipsawed cabin!" - -She lay there gazing dreamily at the time browned ceiling. Suddenly her -gaze fell upon the misplaced board that covered the opening leading to -the attic. - -At once her mind was filled with all manner of wild speculations. Had -Marion, in her absence, thought of some new hiding place in that attic? -Had she found the Confederate gold? Or had Uncle Billie talked too much -about the vanished gold? Had some one, with no legal right to the gold, -come to the house while everyone was away? Had he climbed to the attic -and plundered it? - -She found herself all but overcome by a desire to climb up there and look -for herself. - -"But this day," she said, sitting up wide awake, "this day I have no time -for treasure hunting. My business to-day is that of being tried by a -jury. And after that,"--her thoughts were bitter,--"after that it is to -be my duty to show these mountain folks how gamely a girl from the -outside can lose an election." - -Strangely enough, at this moment there passed through her mind moving -pictures of her experience at the back of Pine Mountain. - -"The deed for Caleb Powell's land," she whispered. "I wonder when they -will have it? Will they have it at all? Will we get our commission?" - -"Oh well," she exclaimed, leaping out of bed, "there's no time for such -speculation now." - -The trial was on. The house was packed. Lacking a town hall, the Justice -had selected the schoolhouse for court room. - -To Florence the thing was tragic. To be tried by a jury, a jury of men -who two months before were utterly unknown to her; to be tried by a -people whose children she had been helping to educate, this was tragic -indeed. There were faces in the audience which seemed to reflect the -tragedy; seamed faces, old before their time; faces of women who had -toiled beyond their just lot that their children might have just a little -more than they had enjoyed. - -There was humor in the situation, too. To be sitting there in the very -chair which she had been accustomed to use in her school-work; to be -looking into the faces of scores of children, yet instead of directing -their work to be listening to the Justice stumbling over the words of the -warrant, all this struck her as decidedly odd, a thing to smile about. - -Ransom, too, must have seen the humor of it, for as Florence looked his -way she surprised a smile lurking around the corners of his mouth. - -The jury was called. Florence, studying their faces as they came -shambling forward, was surprised and relieved to find there not a single -man who was hostile to her; not one of Black Blevens' men was on that -jury. She caught her breath as the true meaning of it came to her. George -Sergeant, the deputy, was her friend. He had seen to it that she had the -proper sort of a jury. A lump came into her throat. It is good, at such a -time as this, to know that one has friends. The very fact that she had -demanded a jury trial had perhaps saved the day for her. - -The details of the case arranged, a lawyer arose to open the case. It was -Florence's lawyer, provided not by herself, but by Ransom Turner and his -men. - -It was a beautiful and wonderful speech that the young lawyer made. A -product of the mountain, born and raised far up in the hills, he had been -helped to his earlier education by just such a school as the girls had -been teaching. - -"An outrage! A shame and a blight to Laurel Creek's good name!" he -exclaimed eloquently. "You all know what these summer schools have meant -to us and to our children. Good hearted, generous people of education and -refinement come to our mountains to help our children, and how do we -repay them? Arrest them for carrying concealed weapons! Arrest a woman -for that! And what was it that this lady did? She put a twenty-two pistol -in her pocket after she failed to shoot a squirrel. A pistol, did I say? -Really a little rifle. A long barrel and a handle. Attach a stock to it -and it's a rifle. - -"Concealed weapons!" his voice was filled with scorn. "You couldn't kill -a man with that! A twenty-two! Concealed weapons! If I were to search -this crowd to-day I could find a hundred deadlier weapons on the persons -who sit before me!" There was a sudden shuffling of the uneasy feet of -startled mountaineers. - -"Concealed weapons!" he went on. "I've a more deadly one in my own -pocket!" He drew a large clasp knife from his pocket and opened it. "I -could kill you quicker with that than with a twenty-two." He put the -knife back in his pocket. - -"And yet we arrest a woman, a girl really, who has come among us to help -us. As a reward we arrest her! Will you honorable jurymen place a blight -on the name of such a one by saying she is guilty of a crime? Something -tells me you will not." - -As the young lawyer sat down there was a stir in the room, a whispering -that came near to applause, but the bronze faces of the jurymen never -changed. Nor had they changed when, after hearing the Justice give his -reasons why the girl should be found guilty, they left the room to retire -to the shade of a distant beach tree. - -It was a tense situation that followed. There was no conversation. To -many in the room a sentence of "guilty" would mean the end of their hopes -of a winter school worthy of the name. - -"If only we can beat old Black Blevens in this trial," Ransom Turner was -whispering to his henchmen. "Hit's likely there's men who'll vote right -in the school election this afternoon. It's a chance, though. It's a -plumb uncertain one. Can't tell next to nothin' what men'll do." - -So, while the distant mumble of the jurymen floated indistinct through -the windows, they waited and whispered among themselves. - -A moment passed, two, three, four. Then the jurors came marching back. - -In the midst of a silence that could be felt, the jurymen took their -seats and the Justice said: - -"Gentlemen, what is your verdict?" - -"Jedge," said a tall, lanky woodsman, rising to his feet, "we came to the -conclusion that there weren't no deadly weapons packed, not narry one." - -There followed ten seconds more of silence, then came a rush forward to -shake the young teacher's hand. - -In spite of her efforts at self control, Florence felt tears splash upon -her hands, nor were hers the only tears shed that morning. - -"But I must be strong," she told herself, setting her lips tight. "The -day is but begun. This is the day of the election." - -The time for the election came. - -Marion, having finished her short sleep and eaten a hearty dinner, was on -hand as fresh and young as if she had not passed through the terrors of -the previous night. - -To the two girls, born and bred on the plains, the election, which had -reached a high pitch of excitement by early afternoon, was indeed a -revelation. There were judges of that election who served without pay, -twenty or more of them, not legal judges but men who were there to see -that their side had fair play. Ten or more of Black Bleven's men were -constantly present; an equal number of the Ransom Turner clan were there. -Not a word was said by any of them, but everyone knew that guns, not -lips, would speak if things went wrong. - -These men meant to see that the men of their side were permitted to vote -and if trouble arose they were ready to fight. - -All that quiet afternoon, as if before a storm, the air seemed -electrified. In every heart deep feelings surged; hatred in some, loyalty -in others. To every thinking man the situation held dire possibilities. -Here might start a bloody feud that would not end until scores were in -their graves. - -Men and women stood in little knots. Questions were asked in whispers. -Would they vote? Would some of Black Blevens' men dare to cross his will? -Would they dare? Black Blevens had large logging contracts. He would hire -many men during the coming winter. Dared the men, whose very bread and -butter depended upon him, desert him? - -At three o'clock the question was beginning to be answered. The election -appeared clearly lost for Ransom Turner. At three-thirty he was eleven -votes behind, and no apparent chance of a rally. - -Florence stuck grimly to her post, close to the schoolhouse door. Her -heart was breaking. She loved the mountain children, had dreamed of a -bigger and better school than Laurel Branch had ever known. That was all -passing now. In two or three weeks she would be bidding the valley -farewell forever. Yet, with the grim determination of a Spartan, she -stuck to her post. - -As for Marion, she had learned what seemed to her to be one of the -secrets of happiness. When one's greatest hope seems about to fail, it is -well to quickly swing one's interests to others, less important perhaps, -but not less entrancing. As the election appeared lost, she thought once -more of the Georgia gold and the attic of the whipsawed house. She it had -been who had removed the board from the ceiling. At that time, however, -she had been suddenly called to other tasks and, having replaced the -board wrong end to, had left without climbing to the attic at all. -"There's time enough now," she thought, "and who knows what I might -discover? There's no need to stay here any longer. The election is lost." - -Reaching her room, she at once shoved the bed beneath the loose board, -and a moment later, candle in hand, found herself swinging along from -beam to beam toward the ancient pounding mill in the corner. - -"Don't see why it's here," she murmured to herself. "Cumbersome old -thing. No good up here." - -She put out her hand to touch it. Then she took it away in disgust. It -was black with three decades of accumulated dust. - -"Ugh!" she grunted. "Wonder if I could tip it over?" - -She tried, and failed to move it,--tried once more and failed. Then she -looked about her for some sort of a pry. Having secured a loose board, -she attacked the task once more. - -This time she was more successful. With a thump that shook the solid old -frame from sill to rafter, the cumberstone block rolled over on its side. - -As it fell the girl's heart skipped a beat. What was that she heard? -Could it have been a metallic clinking? Had her ears deceived her? She -hoped not. But if she had heard aright, from whence had it come? From -some dark corner among the rafters, or from within the very heart of the -old pounding mill? - -At that moment there came to her ears the sound of hoarse shouting. What -did it mean? Was there to be trouble? Would there be shots? Would women -be fleeing, men dying? - -None of these. A strange and stirring scene was being enacted at the -schoolhouse at the mouth of Laurel Branch. - -A short time after Marion left the school building, as Florence stood -looking away at the lovely blue of the hills and trying in vain to tell -it all an affectionate goodbye, she heard someone exclaim: - -"Look a'yonder!" - -"Hit's them quare folks from up yonder beyond the stone gateway," said -another. - -At once the girl found herself staring in wonder at a strange procession -moving slowly down the road. A score of mountain men and women, some on -horseback, most on foot, led by a one-armed giant and a boy with an arm -in a sling, were advancing on the schoolhouse. - -"Bud Wax!" the girl breathed. "Bud, and the folks from beyond the gates. -What can it mean?" - -The distance was short. She soon knew. As the giant's huge form darkened -the schoolhouse door his deep voice rumbled a question: - -"'Lection goin' on here?" - -There came no answer from the surprised onlookers. - -"Reckon I'll vote," said the giant. - -At this move, every man of the watchers grew rigid. Whose man was this? -Many a hand shifted to a pistol grip. The election hung in the balance. -As this man voted, so would all that motley throng. There was no -questioning their right. They lived within the district. Their votes -could be sworn in. How would they vote? They had come with Bud Wax. That -looked bad for Ransom Turner's clan. But there had been strange -whisperings about Bud. He had been heard to say things about the teachers -from the outside that were far from unkind. Could it be that, having been -fairly conquered by one of these, he had learned a respect for them that -he had felt for no other one? - -As for Florence, her heart was in her mouth. Would they do it? Could they -crush her hopes after she had done so much for little Hallie? They might. -There was no accounting for the ways of these strange people. - -There was a hush of silence as the giant, having given his name and sworn -in his vote, seized the ballot and made his mark. - -Out of the silence there came a whisper: - -"Hit's for Ransom." - -The next moment the silence was shattered by a round of hoarse shouts. -The election was won by Ransom Turner. The people from "up yonder" had -turned the balance. - -As for Florence, it was too much for her overwrought nerves. Dashing away -into a thicket, she threw herself flat upon the ground to give vent to -violent sobs. - -A half hour later the two young teachers, each hurrying toward the other, -met half way between the whipsawed house and the school. - -"Oh, Florence! I've found it!" Marion exclaimed. - -And Florence at the same instant cried, "Marion, we won! We won!" - -Throwing themselves into each others arms, they laughed and cried -together. After that they sat side by side on a log and calmly told their -stories. - -To Florence, the thrilling climax of the election had been a revelation. -Bud Wax had provided the great surprise. Won over by who knows what -course of reasoning, he had taken the side of his teachers. Having seen -Florence entering the forbidden gateway, he had followed as her -protector. While playing this role, he had broken his arm. He had spent -the past few days convincing those strange people "up yonder" that it was -their duty to come down to the mouth of the creek and vote in the school -election. Convinced by his argument, and Florence's watchful care over -Hallie, they had consented to come. - -"And just when we thought all was lost," Florence exclaimed, "here they -came, everyone of them, to vote for Ransom Turner. - -"And now," she hurried on, "they've decided that the folks at the mouth -of the creek are not such bad neighbors after all. They're going to send -their children down to our school." - -"Oh, Florence!" Marion clasped her hands in an ecstasy of joy. "It's -going to be such a school! A real new school building with two rooms, new -seats and stoves and everything!" - -"Why! How--" - -"I found the gold!" - -"Where?" - -"It was in the heart of the pounding mill. I tipped it over, and it sort -of clinked. I thumped it here and there until I found that the hole where -they pounded the corn had a false bottom. I pried it up and there was the -gold!" - -"Confederate gold?" - -"No, not Confederate gold, but Georgia and Carolina gold. There never was -any Confederate gold. None ever was coined. I received a letter about -that from the museum this morning. The Confederate States coined a few -silver half-dollars. All the rest of their money was paper." - -For a moment the two girls sat in silent contemplation of their great -good fortune and the joyous future that lay before them. - -"There isn't such a lot of gold," Marion said at last. "Forty or fifty -pieces, that's all, but each piece is worth several times its value in -gold, so there will be enough." - -"Quite enough," murmured Florence contentedly. "And we shall have a -school! Such a school!" - -The schoolhouse was yet to be built. That this might be accomplished, -grateful mountaineers sent their teams over the mountains for windows, -doors, seats and hardware, while others, manning a small sawmill, got out -the lumber. When the time came for beginning the construction, there was -a "workin'." Mountain folks came for miles around; men with hammers, axes -and saws, women with pots and pans and all manner of good things to eat. -Men worked, women cooked. They made a holiday of it, and before the sun -went down that day the two room school building was two-thirds done. - -"Hit's the way us mounting folks be," said old Uncle Billie, rubbing his -hands together. "If'n we all likes you we likes you a right smart, an' -if'n we all don't take to you, we can be meaner'n pisen." - -The school was a success in every way. Long before the term came to an -end Laurel Branch was looking forward to better things. - -One day two months after the school began, Florence received a letter -from Mr. Dobson, the coal man. With trembling fingers she tore it open. A -small bit of paper fell out. Snatching it up, she read: - -"Pay to the order.... Nineteen hundred and sixty dollars!" - -"Oh Marion! Marion!" she fairly screamed. "Here's our commission!" - -"That money," said Mrs. McAlpin, as they sat in fireside council that -night, "is your own. You earned it fairly. It is no longer needed for the -school. If you feel you must give some, give a tenth of it to the school. -It is your duty to use the remainder in completing your own education." - -It was some time before the two girls could be brought to see the matter -in this light. Perhaps they feared life would lose its thrill if they -were no longer dependent upon their muscles and their wits for their -living. In the end they yielded. When, after finishing the winter school, -they left the mountains for the University, it was with a full purse. - -Florence found that the possession of money did not necessarily rob one -of the thrills that life should have. Had she not been free to wander -about the city she would not have wandered into a curious place back of -the Ghetto at 777 Monroe Street. Had she not been possessed of an unusual -amount of cash, she would not have made an extraordinary purchase there, -and having missed the purchase, would have lost an unusually romantic and -mysterious adventure as well. But she did make the purchase and the -adventure came--but the story is a long one and will be found in our next -book entitled "The Thirteenth Ring." - - - THE END - - - - - Transcriber's Notes - - ---Copyright notice provided as in the original printed text--this e-text - is public domain in the country of publication. - ---Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and - dialect unchanged. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Silent Alarm, by Roy J. 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