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diff --git a/old/50494-8.txt b/old/50494-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 358f743..0000000 --- a/old/50494-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10655 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Abner Daniel, by Will N. Harben - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Abner Daniel - A Novel - -Author: Will N. Harben - -Release Date: November 19, 2015 [EBook #50494] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ABNER DANIEL *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - -ABNER DANIEL - -By Will N. Harben - -Author Of "Westerfelt" - -New York and London - -Harper And Brothers - -1902 - -TO - -MY SISTER - -MRS. RAY KNIGHT - - - - -ABNER DANIEL - - - - -I - - -[Illustration: 9007] - -HE young man stood in the field road giving -directions to a robust negro who was ploughing the corn, which, in -parallel rows, stretched on to the main road a quarter of a mile -distant. The negro placed the point of his ploughshare a few inches from -the first stalk of corn, wound the line around his wrist, and clucked -to his horse. With a jangling jerk of the trace-chains the animal -lunged ahead: the polished ploughshare cut into the mellow soil and sped -onward, curling the gray earth like shavings, and uprooting and burying -the tenacious crab-grass and succulent purslane. - -It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly, but the atmosphere -had dropped a dim veil over the near-by mountain. Even the two-storied -farm-house, with its veranda and white columns, to which the field road -led up a gradual slope, showed only its outlines. However, Alan Bishop, -as he steadied his gaze upon the house, saw the figure of an elderly -woman come out of the gate and with a quick step hurry down to him. It -was his mother; she was tall and angular, and had high cheek-bones and -small blue eyes. She had rather thin gray hair, which was wound into a -knot behind her head, and over it she wore only a small red breakfast -shawl which she held in place by one of her long hands. - -"Alan," she said, panting from her brisk walk, "I want you to come to -the house right off. Mr. Trabue has come to see yore pa again an' I -can't do a thing with 'im." - -"Well, what does he want with him?" asked the young man. His glance -was on the ploughman and his horse. They had turned the far end of the -corn-row and were coming back, only the nodding head of the animal being -visible beyond a little rise. - -"He's come to draw up the papers fer another land trade yore pa's -makin'. He's the lawyer fer the Tompkins estate. Yore pa tried to buy -the land a yeer ago, but it wasn't in shape to dispose of. Oh, Alan, -don't you see he's goin' to ruin us with his fool notions? Folks all -about are a-laughin' at him fer buyin' so much useless mountain-land. I'm -powerful afeered his mind is wrong." - -"Well, mother, what could I do?" Alan Bishop asked impatiently. "You -know he won't listen to me." - -"I reckon you can' t stop 'im," sighed the woman, "but I wish you'd come -on to the house. I knowed he was up to some 'n'. Ever'day fer the last -week he's been ridin' up the valley an' rollin' and tumblin' at night an' -chawin' ten times as much tobacco as he ort. Oh, he's goin' to ruin us! -Brother Abner says he is buyin' beca'se he thinks it's goin' to advance in -value, but sech property hain't advanced a speck sence I kin remember, -an' is bein' sold ever' yeer fer tax money." - -"No, it's very foolish of him," said the young man as the two turned -towards the house. "Father keeps talking about the fine timber on such -property, but it is entirely too far from a railroad ever to be worth -anything. I asked Rayburn Miller about it and he told me to do all -I could to stop father from investing, and you know he's as sharp a -speculator as ever lived; but it's his money." - -There was a paling fence around the house, and the enclosure was alive -with chickens, turkeys, geese, ducks, and peafowls. In the sunshine on -the veranda two pointers lay sleeping, but at the sound of the opening -gate they rose, stretched themselves lazily, and gaped. - -"They are in the parlor," said Mrs. Bishop, as she whisked off her -breakfast shawl. "Go right in, I 'll come in a minute. I want to see how -Linda is makin' out with the churnin'. La! I feel like it's a waste o' -time to do a lick o' work with him in thar actin' like a child. Ef we -both go in together it 'll look like we've concocked somethin', but we -must stop 'im ef we kin." - -Alan went into the parlor on the left of the wide, uncarpeted hall. The -room had white plastered walls, but the ceiling was of boards planed -by hand and painted sky blue. In one corner stood a very old piano -with pointed, octagonal legs and a stool with hair-cloth covering. -The fireplace was wide and high, and had a screen made of a decorated -window-shade tightly pasted on a wooden frame. Old man Bishop sat near a -window, and through his steel-framed nose-glasses was carefully reading -a long document written on legal-cap paper. He paid no attention to the -entrance of his son, but the lawyer, a short, fat man of sixty-five with -thick black hair that fell below his coat-collar, rose and extended his -hand. - -"How's Alan?" he asked, pleasantly. "I saw you down in the field as I -come along, but I couldn't catch your eye. You see I'm out after some -o' your dad's cash. He's buying hisse'f rich. My Lord! if it ever _does_ -turn his way he 'll scoop in enough money to set you and your sister up -for life. Folks tell me he owns mighty near every stick of timber-land -in the Cohutta Valley, and what he has he got at the bottom figure." - -"If it ever turns his way," said Alan; "but do you see any prospect of -it's ever doing so, Mr. Trabue?" The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. "I -never bet on another man's trick, my boy, and I never throw cold water -on the plans of a speculator. I used to when I was about your age, but -I saw so many of 'em get rich by paying no attention to me that I quit -right off. A man ought to be allowed to use his own judgment." Old -Bishop was evidently not hearing a word of this conversation, being -wholly absorbed in studying the details of the deed before him. "I -reckon it's all right," he finally said. "You say the Tompkins children -are all of age?" - -"Yes, Effie was the youngest," answered Trabue, "and she stepped over -the line last Tuesday. There's her signature in black and white. The -deed's all right. I don't draw up any other sort." - -Alan went to his father and leaned over him. "Father," he said, softly, -and yet with firmness, "I wish you'd not act hastily in this deal. You -ought to consider mother's wishes, and she is nearly distracted over -it." - -Bishop was angry. His massive, clean-shaven face was red. "I'd like to -know what I'd consult her fer," he said. "In a matter o' this kind a -woman's about as responsible as a suckin' baby." - -Trabue laughed heartily. "Well, I reckon it's a good thing your wife -didn't hear that or she'd show you whether she was responsible or not. -I couldn't have got the first word of that off my tongue before my wife -would 'a' knocked me clean through that wall." - -Alfred Bishop seemed not to care for levity during business hours, for -he greeted this remark only with a frown. He scanned the paper again and -said: "Well, ef thar's any flaw in this I reckon you 'll make it right." - -"Oh yes, I 'll make any mistake of mine good," returned Trabue. "The -paper's all right." - -"You see," said Alan to the lawyer, "mother and I think father has -already more of this sort of property than he can carry, and--" - -"I wish you and yore mother'd let my business alone," broke in Bishop, -firing up again. "Trabue heer knows I've been worryin' 'im fer the last -two months to get the property in salable shape. Do you reckon after he -gets it that away I want to listen to yore two tongues a-waggin' in open -opposition to it?" - -Trabue rubbed his hands together. "It really don't make a bit of -difference to me, Alan, one way or the other," he said, pacifically. -"I'm only acting as attorney for the Tompkins estate, and get my fee -whether there's a transfer or not. That's where I stand in the matter." - -"But it's not whar I stand in it, Mr. Trabue," said a firm voice in the -doorway. It was Mrs. Bishop, her blue eyes flashing, her face pale and -rigid. "I think I've got a right--and a big one--to have a say-so in -this kind of a trade. A woman 'at 's stayed by a man's side fer thirty -odd yeer an' raked an' scraped to he'p save a little handful o' property -fer her two children has got a right to raise a rumpus when her husband -goes crooked like Alfred has an' starts in to bankrupt 'em all jest fer -a blind notion o' his'n." - -"Oh, thar you are!" said Bishop, lifting his eyes from the paper -and glaring at her over his glasses. "I knowed I'd have to have a -knock-down-an'-drag-out fight with you 'fore I signed my name, so sail in -an' git it over. Trabue's got to ride back to town." - -"But whar in the name o' common-sense is the money to come from?" the -woman hurled at her husband, as she rested one of her bony hands on the -edge of the table and glared at him. "As I understand it, thar's about -five thousand acres in this piece alone, an' yo're a-payin' a dollar -a acre. Whar's it a-comin' from, I'd like to know? Whar's it to come -from?" - -Bishop sniffed and ran a steady hand over his short, gray hair. "You see -how little she knows o' my business," he said to the lawyer. "Heer she's -raisin' the devil an' Tom Walker about the trade an' she don't so much -as know whar the money's to come from." - -"How _was_ I to know?" retorted the woman, "when you've been tellin' me -fer the last six months that thar wasn't enough in the bank to give the -house a coat o' fresh paint an' patch the barn roof." - -"You knowed I had five thousand dollars wuth o' stock in the Shoal River -Cotton Mills, didn't you?" asked Bishop, defiantly, and yet with the -manner of a man throwing a missile which he hoped would fall lightly. - -"Yes, I knowed that, but--" The woman's eyes were two small fires -burning hungrily for information beyond their reach. - -"Well, it happens that Shoal stock is jest the same on the market as -ready money, up a little to-day an' down to-morrow, but never varyin' -more'n a fraction of a cent on the dollar, an' so the Tompkins heirs -say they'd jest as lieve have it, an' as I'm itchin' to relieve them of -the'r land, it didn't take us long to come together." - -If he had struck the woman squarely in the face, she could not have -shown more surprise. She became white to the lips, and with a low cry -turned to her son. "Oh, Alan, don't--don't let 'im do it, it's all we -have left that we can depend on! It will ruin us!" - -"Why, father, surely," protested Alan, as he put his arm around his -mother, "surely you can't mean to let go your mill investment which -is paying fifteen per cent, to put the money into lands that may never -advance in value and always be a dead weight on your hands! Think of the -loss of interest and the taxes to be kept up. Father, you must listen -to--" - -"Listen to nothin'," thundered Bishop, half rising from his chair. -"Nobody axed you two to put in. It's my business an' I'm a-goin' to -attend to it. I believe I'm doin' the right thing, an' that settles it." - -"The right thing," moaned the old woman, as she sank into a chair and -covered her face with her hands. "Mr. Trabue," she went on, fiercely, -"when that factory stock leaves our hands we won't have a single thing -to our names that will bring in a cent of income. You kin see how bad it -is on a woman who has worked as hard to do fer her children as I have. -Mr. Bishop always said Adele, who is visitin' her uncle's family in -Atlanta, should have that stock for a weddin'-gift, ef she ever married, -an' Alan was to have the lower half of this farm. Now what would we have -to give the girl--nothin' but thousands o' acres o' hills, mountains an' -gulches full o' bear, wild-cats, and catamounts--land that it ud break -any young couple to hold on to--much less put to any use. Oh, I feel -perfectly sick over it." - -There was a heavy, dragging step in the hall, and a long, lank man of -sixty or sixty-five years of age paused in the doorway. He had no beard -except a tuft of gray hair on his chin, and his teeth, being few and far -between, gave to his cheeks a hollow appearance. He was Abner Daniel, -Mrs. Bishop's bachelor brother, who lived in the family. - -"Hello!" he exclaimed, shifting a big quid of tobacco from one cheek -to the other; "plottin' agin the whites? Ef you are, I 'll decamp, as the -feller said when the bull yeerlin' butted 'im in the small o' the back. -How are you, Mr. Trabue? Have they run you out o' town fer some o' yore -legal rascality?" - -"I reckon your sister thinks it's rascality that's brought me out -to-day," laughed the lawyer. "We are on a little land deal." - -"Oh, well, I 'll move on," said Abner Daniel. "I jest wanted to tell -Alan that Rigg's hogs got into his young corn in the bottom jest now -an' rooted up about as many acres as Pole Baker's ploughed all day. Ef -they'd a-rooted in straight rows an' not gone too nigh the stalks -they mought 'a' done the crap more good than harm, but the'r aim or -intention, one or t'other, was bad. Folks is that away; mighty few of -'em root--when they root at all--fer anybody but the'rse'ves. -Well, I 'll git along to my room." - -"Don't go, brother Ab," pleaded his sister. "I want you to he'p me stand -up fer my rights. Alfred is about to swap our cotton-mill stock fer some -more wild mountain-land." - -In spite of his natural tendency to turn everything into a jest--even -the serious things of life--the sallow face of the tall man lengthened. -He stared into the faces around him for a moment, then a slow twinkle -dawned in his eye. - -"I've never been knowed to take sides in any connubial tustle yet," he -said to Trabue, in a dry tone. "Alf may not know what he's about right -now, but he's Solomon hisse'f compared to a feller that will undertake -to settle a dispute betwixt a man an' his wife--more especially the -wife. Geewhilikins! I never shall forget the time old Jane Hardeway come -heer to spend a week an' Alf thar an' Betsy split over buyin' a hat-rack -fer the hall. Betsy had seed one over at Mason's, at the camp-ground, -an' determined she'd have one. Maybe you noticed that fancy contraption -in the hall as you come in. Well, Alf seed a nigger unloadin' it from a -wagon at the door one mornin', an' when Betsy, in feer an' tremblin', -told 'im what it was fer he mighty nigh had a fit. He said his folks -never had been above hangin' the'r coats an' hats on good stout nails an' -pegs, an' as fer them umbrella-pans to ketch the drip, he said they was -fancy spit-boxes, an' wanted to know ef she expected a body to do the'r -chawin' an' smokin' in that windy hall. He said it jest should not stand -thar with all them prongs an' arms to attack unwary folks in the dark, -an' he toted it out to the buggy-shed. That got Betsy's dander up an' -she put it back agin the wall an' said it ud stay thar ef she had to -stand behind it an' hold it in place. Alf wasn't done yet; he 'lowed ef -they was to have sech a purty trick as that on the hill it had to stay -in the best room in the house, so he put it heer in the parlor by the -piano. But Betsy took it back two or three times an' he larnt that he -was a-doin' a sight o' work fer nothin', an' finally quit totin' it about. -But that ain't what I started in to tell. As I was a-sayin', old Jane -Hardeway thought she'd sorter put a word in the dispute to pay fer her -board an' keep, an' she told Betsy that it was all owin' to the way the -Bishops was raised that Alf couldn't stand to have things nice about -'im. She said all the Bishops she'd ever knowed had a natural stoop -that they got by livin' in cabins with low roofs. She wasn't spreadin' 'er -butter as thick as she thought she was--ur maybe it was the sort she was -spreadin '--fer Betsy blazed up like the woods afire in a high wind. It -didn't take old Jane long to diskiver that thar was several breeds -o' Bishops out o' jail, an' she spent most o' the rest o' her visit -braggin' on some she'd read about. She said the name sounded like the -start of 'em had been religious an' substanch." - -"Brother Abner," whined Mrs. Bishop, "I wisht you'd hush all that -foolishness an' help me 'n the children out o' this awful fix. Alfred -always would listen to you." - -"Well," and the old man smiled, and winked at the lawyer, "I 'll give you -both all the advice I kin. Now, the Shoal River stock is a good thing -right now; but ef the mill was to ketch on fire an' burn down thar'd be -a loss. Then as fer timber-land, it ain't easy to sell, but it mought -take a start before another flood. I say it mought, an' then agin it -moughtn't. The mill mought burn, an' then agin it moughtn't. Now, ef -you-uns kin be helped by this advice you are welcome to it free o' -charge. Not changin' the subject, did you-uns know Mrs. Richardson's -heffer's got a calf? I reckon she won't borrow so much milk after hers -gits good." - -Trabue smiled broadly as the gaunt man withdrew; but his amusement was -short-lived, for Mrs. Bishop began to cry, and she soon rose in despair -and left the room. Alan stood for a moment looking at the unmoved -face of his father, who had found something in the last clause of the -document which needed explanation; then he, too, went out. - - - - -II - - -[Illustration: 9017] - -LAN found his uncle on the back porch washing his -face and hands in a basin on the water-shelf. The young man leaned -against one of the wooden posts which supported the low roof of the -porch and waited for him to conclude the puffing, sputtering operation, -which he finally did by enveloping his head in a long towel hanging from -a wooden roller on the weather-boarding. - -"Well," he laughed, "yore uncle Ab didn't better matters in thar overly -much. But what could a feller do? Yore pa's as bull-headed as a young -steer, an' he's already played smash anyway. Yore ma's wastin' breath; -but a woman seems to have plenty of it to spare. A woman' s tongue's -like a windmill--it takes breath to keep it a-goin', an' a dead calm ud -kill her business." - -"It's no laughing matter, Uncle Ab," said Alan, despondently. "Something -must have gone wrong with father's judgment. He never has acted this way -before." - -The old man dropped the towel and thrust his long, almost jointless -fingers into his vest pocket for a horn comb which folded up like a -jack-knife. "I was jest a-wonderin'," as he began to rake his shaggy -hair straight down to his eyes--"I was jest a-wonderin' ef he could -'a' bent his skull in a little that time his mule th'owed 'im agin the -sweet-gum. They say that often changes a body powerful. Folks do think -he's off his cazip on the land question, an' now that he's traded his -best nest-egg fer another swipe o' the earth's surface, I reckon they 'll -talk harder. But yore pa ain't no fool; no plumb idiot could 'a' managed -yore ma as well as he has. You see I know what he's accomplished, fer -I've been with 'em ever since they was yoked together. When they was -married she was as wild as a buck, an' certainly made our daddy walk a -chalk-line; but Alfred has tapered 'er down beautiful. She didn't want -this thing done one bit, an' yet it is settled by this time"--the -old man looked through the hall to the front gate--"yes, Trabue's -unhitchin'; he's got them stock certificates in his pocket, an' yore pa -has the deeds in his note-case. When this gits out, moss-backs from heer -clean to Gilmer 'll be trapsin' in to dispose o' land at so much a front -foot." - -"But what under high heaven will he do with it all?" - -"Hold on to it," grinned Abner, "that is, ef he kin rake an' scrape -enough together to pay the taxes. Why, last yeer his taxes mighty nigh -floored 'im, an' the expenses on this county he's jest annexed will push -'im like rips; fer now, you know, he 'll have to do without the income -on his factory stock; but he thinks he's got the right sow by the yeer. -Before long he may yell out to us to come he'p 'im turn 'er loose, but -he's waltzin' with 'er now." - -At this juncture Mrs. Bishop came out of the dining-room wiping her eyes -on her apron. - -"Mother," said Alan, tenderly, "try not to worry over this any more than -you can help." - -"Your pa's gettin' old an' childish," whimpered Mrs. Bishop. "He's heerd -somebody say timber-land up in the mountains will some day advance, -an' he forgets that he's too old to get the benefit of it. He's goin' to -bankrupt us." - -"Ef I do," the man accused thundered from the hall, as he strode out, -"it 'll be my money that's lost--money that I made by hard work." - -He stood before them, glaring over his eye-glasses at his wife. "I've -had enough of yore tongue, my lady; ef I'd not had so much to think -about in thar jest now I'd 'a' shut you up sooner. Dry up now--not -another word! I'm doin' the best I kin accordin' to my lights to provide -fer my children, an' I won't be interfered with." - -No one spoke for a moment. However, Mrs. Bishop finally retorted, as her -brother knew she would, in her own time. - -"I don't call buyin' thousands o' acres o' unsalable land providin' fer -anything, except the pore-house," she fumed. - -"That's beca'se you don't happen to know as much about the business as -I do," said Bishop, with a satisfied chuckle, which, to the observant -Daniel, sounded very much like exultation. "When you all know what I -know you 'll be laughin' on t'other sides o' yore mouths." - -He started down the steps into the yard as if going to the row of -bee-hives along the fence, but paused and came back. He had evidently -changed his mind. "I reckon," he said, "I 'll jest _have_ to let you all -know about this or I won't have a speck o' peace from now on. I didn't -tell you at fust beca'se nobody kin keep a secret as well as the man it -belongs to, an' I was afeerd it ud leak out an' damage my interests; but -this last five thousand acres jest about sweeps all the best timber in -the whole Cohutta section, an' I mought as well let up. I reckon you all -know that ef--I say _ef_--my land was nigh a railroad it ud be low at -five times what I paid fer it, don't you? Well, then! The long an' short -of it is that I happen to be on the inside an' know that a railroad -is goin' to be run from Blue Lick Junction to Darley. It 'll be started -inside of the next yeer an' 'll run smack dab through my property. Thar -now, you know more'n you thought you did, don't you?" - -The little group stared into his glowing face incredulously. - -"A railroad is to be built, father?" exclaimed Alan. - -"That's what I said." - -Mrs. Bishop's eyes flashed with sudden hope, and then, as if remembering -her husband's limitations, her face fell. - -"Alfred," she asked, sceptically, "how does it happen that you know -about the railroad before other folks does?" - -"How do I? That's it now--how do I?" and the old man laughed freely. -"I've had my fun out o' this thing, listenin' to what every crank said -about me bein' cracked, an' so on; but I was jest a-lyin' low waitin' -fer my time." - -"Well, I 'll be switched!" ejaculated Abner Daniel, half seriously, half -sarcastically. "Geewhilikins! a railroad! I've always said one would pay -like rips an' open up a dern good, God-fersaken country. I'm glad you -are a-goin' to start one, Alfred." - -Alan's face was filled with an expression of blended doubt and pity for -his father's credulity. "Father," he said, gently, "are you sure you got -your information straight?" - -"I got it from headquarters." The old man raised himself on his toes and -knocked his heels together, a habit he had not indulged in for many a -year. "It was told to me confidentially by a man who knows all about the -whole thing, a man who is in the employ o' the company that's goin' to -build it." - -"Huh!" the exclamation was Abner Daniel's, "do you mean that Atlanta -lawyer, Perkins?" - -Bishop stared, his mouth lost some of its pleased firmness, and he -ceased the motion of his feet. - -"What made you mention his name?" he asked, curiously. - -"Oh, I dunno; somehow I jest thought o' him. He looks to me like he -mought be buildin' a railroad ur two." - -"Well, that's the man I mean," said Bishop, more uneasily. - -Somehow the others were all looking at Abner Daniel, who grunted -suddenly and almost angrily. - -"I wouldn't trust that skunk no furder'n I could fling a bull by the -tail." - -"You say you wouldn't?" Bishop tried to smile, but the effort was a -facial failure. - -"I wouldn't trust 'im nuther, brother Ab," chimed in Mrs. Bishop. "As soon -as I laid eyes on 'im I knowed he wouldn't do. He's too mealy-mouthed an' -fawnin'. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth; he bragged on ever'thing we -had while he was heer. Now, Alfred, what we must git at is, what was his -object in tellin' you that tale." - -"Object?" thundered her husband, losing his temper in the face of the -awful possibility that her words hinted at. "Are you all a pack an' -passle o' fools? If you must dive an' probe, then I 'll tell you he owns -a slice o' timber-land above Holley Creek, j'inin' some o' mine, an' -so he let me into the secret out o' puore good will. Oh, you all cayn't -skeer me; I ain't one o' the skeerin' kind." - -But, notwithstanding this outburst, it was plain that doubt had actually -taken root in the ordinarily cautious mind of the crude speculator. His -face lengthened, the light of triumph went out of his eyes, leaving the -shifting expression of a man taking desperate chances. - -Abner Daniel laughed out harshly all at once and then was silent. -"What's the matter?" asked his sister, in despair. - -"I was jest a-wonderin'," replied her brother. - -"You are?" said Bishop, angrily. "It seems to me you don't do much -else." - -"Folks 'at wonders a lot ain't so apt to believe ever'thing they heer," -retorted Abner. "I was just a-wonderin' why that little, spindle-shanked -Peter Mosely has been holdin' his head so high the last week or so. I 'll -bet I could make a durn good guess now." - -"What under the sun's Peter Mosely got to do with my business?" burst -from Bishop's impatient lips. - -"He's got a sorter roundabout connection with it, I reckon," smiled -Abner, grimly. "I happen to know that Abe Tompkins sold 'im two thousand -acres o' timber-land on Huckleberry Ridge jest atter yore Atlanta man -spent the day lookin' round in these parts." - -Bishop was no fool, and he grasped Abner's meaning even before it was -quite clear to the others. - -"Looky heer," he said, sharply, "what do you take me fur?" - -"I'ain't tuck you fer nothin'," said Abner, with a grin. "Leastwise, -I'ain't tuck you fer five thousand dollars' wuth o' cotton-mill stock. -To make a long story short, the Atlanta jack-leg lawyer is akin to -the Tompkins family some way. I don't know exactly what kin, but Joe -Tompkins's wife stayed at Perkins's house when she was down thar havin' -er spine straightened. I'd bet a new hat to a ginger-cake that Perkins -never owned a spoonful o' land up heer, an' that he's jest he'pin' the -Tompkins folks on the sly to unload some o' the'r land, so they kin move -West, whar they've always wanted to go. Peter Mosely is a man on the -watch-out fer rail soft snaps, an' when Perkins whispered the big secret -in his yeer, like he did to you, he started out on a still hunt fer -timbered land on the line of the proposed trunk line due west vy-ah -Lickskillet to Darley, with stop-over privileges at Buzzard Roost, an' -fifteen minutes fer hash at Dog Trot Springs. Then, somehow or other, -by hook or crook--mostly crook--Abe Tompkins wasn't dodgin' anybody about -that time; Peter Mosely could 'a' run agin 'im with his eyes shut on -a dark night. I was at Neil Fulmore's store when the two met, an' ef a -trade was ever made quicker betwixt two folks it was done by telegraph -an' the paper was signed by lightnin'. Abe said he had the land an' -wouldn't part with it at any price ef he hadn't been bad in need o' -money, fer he believed it was chuck-full o' iron ore, soapstone, black -marble, an' water-power, to say nothin' o' timber, but he'd been troubled -so much about cash, he said, that he'd made up his mind to let 'er slide -an' the devil take the contents. I never seed two parties to a deal -better satisfied. They both left the store with a strut. Mosely's strut -was the biggest, fer he wasn't afeerd o' nothin'. Tompkins looked like -he was afeerd Mosely ud call 'im back an' want to rue." - -"You mean to say--" But old Bishop seemed unable to put his growing fear -into words. - -"Oh, I don't know nothin' fer certain," said Abner Daniel, -sympathetically; "but ef I was you I'd go down to Atlanta an' see -Perkins. You kin tell by the way he acts whether thar's anything in -his railroad story or not; but, by gum, you ort to know whar you stand. -You've loaded yorese'f from hind to fore quarters, an' ef you don't -plant yore feet on some'n you 'll go down." - -Bishop clutched this proposition as a drowning man would a straw. "Well, -I will go see 'im," he said. "I 'll go jest to satisfy you. As fer as I'm -concerned, I know he wasn't tellin' me no lie; but I reckon you all never -'ll rest till you are satisfied." - -He descended the steps and crossed the yard to the barn. They saw him -lean over the rail fence for a moment as if in troubled thought, and -then he seemed to shake himself, as if to rid himself of an unpleasant -mental burden, and passed through the little sagging gate into the -stable to feed his horses. It was now noon. The sun was shining broadly -on the fields, and ploughmen were riding their horses home in their -clanking harnesses. - -"Poor father," said Alan to his uncle, as his mother retired slowly into -the house. "He seems troubled, and it may mean our ruin--absolute ruin." - -"It ain't no triflin' matter," admitted Daniel. "Thar's no tellin' how -many thousand acres he may have bought; he's keepin' somethin' to hisse'f. -I remember jest when that durn skunk of a lawyer put that flea in his -yeer. They was at Hanson's mill, an' talked confidential together mighty -nigh all mornin'. But let's not cross a bridge tell we git to it. Let's -talk about some'n else. I hain't never had a chance to tell you, but I -seed that gal in town yesterday, an' talked to 'er." - -"Did you, Uncle Ab?" the face of the young man brightened. His tone was -eager and expectant. - -"Yes, I'd hitched in the wagon-yard an' run into Hazen's drug-store to -git a box o' axle-grease, an' was comin' out with the durn stuff under -my arm when I run upon 'er a-settin' in a buggy waitin' to git a clerk to -fetch 'er out a glass o' sody-water. She recognized me, an' fer no other -earthly reason than that I'm yore uncle she spoke to me as pleasin' as -a basket o' chips. What was I to do? I never was in such a plight in my -life. I'd been unloadin' side-meat at Bartow's warehouse, an' was kivered -from head to foot with salt and grease. I didn't have on no coat, -an' the seat o' my pants was non est--I don't think thar was any est -about 'em, to tell the truth; but I knowed it wouldn't be the part of a -gentleman to let 'er set thar stretchin' 'er neck out o' socket to call -a clerk when I was handy, so I wheeled about, hopin' an' prayin' ef she -did look at me she'd take a fancy to the back o' my head, an' went in -the store an' told 'em to git a hustle on the'r-se'ves. When I come out, -she hauled me up to ax some questions about when camp-meetin' was goin' -to set in this yeer, and when Adele was comin' home. I let my box o' -axle-grease drap, an' it rolled like a wagon-wheel off duty, an' me -after it, bendin'--_bendin_' of all positions--heer an' yan in the most -ridiculous way. I tell you I'd never play croquet ur leapfrog in them -pants. All the way home I thought how I'd disgraced you." - -"Oh, you are all right, Uncle Ab," laughed Alan. "She's told me several -times that she likes you very much. She says you are genuine--genuine -through and through, and she's right." - -"I'd ruther have her say it than any other gal I know," said Abner. -"She's purty as red shoes, an', ef I'm any judge, she's genuwine too. -I've got another idee about 'er, but I ain't a-givin' it away jest now." - -"You mean that she--" - -"No," and the old man smiled mischievously, "I didn't mean nothin' o' -the sort. I wonder how on earth you could 'a' got sech a notion in yore -head. I'm goin' to see how that black scamp has left my cotton land. -I 'll bet he hain't scratched it any deeper'n a old hen would 'a' done -lookin' fer worms." - - - - -III - - -[Illustration: 0026] - -HE next morning at breakfast Alfred Bishop announced -his intention of going to Atlanta to talk to Perkins, and incidentally -to call on his brother William, who was a successful wholesale merchant -in that city. - -"I believe I would," said Mrs. Bishop. "Maybe William will tell you what -to do." - -"I'd see Perkins fust," advised Abner Daniel. "Ef I felt shore Perkins -had buncoed me I'd steer cleer o' William. I'd hate to heer 'im let out -on that subject. He's made his pile by keepin' a sharp lookout." - -"I hain't had no reason to think I have been lied to," said Bishop, -doggedly, as he poured his coffee into his saucer and shook it about to -cool. "A body could hear his death-knell rung every minute ef he'd jest -listen to old women an'--" - -"Old bachelors," interpolated Abner. "I reckon they _are_ alike. The -longer a man lives without a woman the more he gits like one. I reckon -that's beca'se the man 'at lives with one don't see nothin' wuth -copyin' in 'er, an' vice-a-versy." - -Mrs. Bishop had never been an appreciative listener to her brother's -philosophy. She ignored what he had just said and its accompanying -smile, which was always Abner's subtle apology for such observations. - -"Are you goin' to tell Adele about the railroad?" she asked. - -"I reckon I won't tell 'er to git up a' excursion over it,'fore the -cross-ties is laid," retorted Bishop, sharply, and Abner Daniel -laughed--that sort of response being in his own vein. - -"I was goin' to say," pursued the softly treading wife, "that I wouldn't -mention it to 'er, ef--ef--Mr. Perkins ain't to be relied on, beca'se -she worries enough already about our pore way o' livin' compared to her -uncle's folks. Ef she knowed how I spent last night she'd want to come -back. But I ain't a-goin' to let brother Ab skeer me yet. It is jest too -awful to think about. What on earth would we do? What would we, I say?" - -That afternoon Bishop was driven to Darley by a negro boy who was to -bring the buggy back home. He first repaired to a barber-shop, where he -was shaved, had his hair cut, and his shoes blacked; then he went to the -station half an hour before time and impatiently walked up and down the -platform till the train arrived. - -It was six o'clock when he reached Atlanta and made his way through the -jostling crowd in the big passenger depot out into the streets. He -had his choice of going at once to the residence of his brother, on -Peachtree Street, the most fashionable avenue of the city, or looking -up Perkins in his office. He decided to unburden his mind by at once -calling on the lawyer, whose office was in a tall building quite near at -hand. - -It was the hour at which Perkins usually left for home, but the old -planter found him in. - -"Oh, it's you, Mr. Bishop," he said, suavely, as he rose from his desk -in the dingy, disordered little room with its single window. He pushed -a chair forward. "Sit down; didn't know you were in town. At your -brother's, I reckon. How are the crops up the road? Too much rain last -month, I'm afraid." - -Bishop sank wearily into the chair. He had tired himself out thinking -over what he would say to the man before him and with the awful -contemplation of what the man might say to him. - -"They are doin' as well as can be expected," he made answer; but he -didn't approve of even that platitude, for he was plain and outspoken, -and hadn't come all that distance for a mere exchange of courtesies. -Still, he lacked the faculty to approach easily the subject which had -grown so heavy within the last twenty-four hours, and of which he now -almost stood in terror. - -"Well, that's good," returned Perkins. He took up a pen as he resumed his -seat, and began to touch it idly to the broad nail of his thumb. He was -a swarthy man of fifty-five or sixty, rather tall and slender, with -a bald head that sloped back sharply from heavy, jutting brows, under -which a pair of keen, black eyes shone and shifted. "Come down to see -your daughter," he said. "Good thing for her that you have a brother in -town. By-the-way, he's a fine type of a man. He's making headway, too; -his trade is stretching out in all directions--funny how different you -two are! He seems to take to a swallow-tail coat and good cigars like -a duck to water, while you want the open sky above you, sweet-smelling -fields around, an' fishing, hunting, sowing, reaping, and chickens--fat, -juicy ones, like your wife fried when I was there. And her apple-butter! -Ice-cream can' t hold a candle to it." - -"I 'lowed I'd see William 'fore I went back," said Bishop, rather -irrelevantly, and, for the lack of something else to do, he took out his -eye-glasses and perched them on his sharp nose, only, on discovering -the inutility of the act, to restore them clumsily to his pocket. He was -trying to persuade himself, in the silence that followed, that, if -the lawyer had known of his trade with the Tompkins heirs, he would -naturally have alluded to it. Then, seeing that Perkins was staring at -him rather fixedly, he said--it was a verbal plunge: "I bought some more -timber-land yesterday!" - -"Oh, you did? That's good." Perkins's eyes fluttered once or twice -before his gaze steadied itself on the face of the man before him. -"Well, as I told you, Mr. Bishop, that sort of a thing is a good -investment. I reckon it's already climbing up a little, ain't it?" - -"Not much yet." It struck Bishop that he had given the lawyer a splendid -opportunity to speak of the chief cause for an advance in value, and his -heart felt heavier as he finished. "But I took quite a slice the last -time--five thousand acres at the old figure, you know--a dollar a acre." - -"You don't say! That _was_ a slice." - -Bishop drew himself up in his chair and inhaled a deep breath. It was as -if he took into himself in that way the courage to make his next remark. - -"I got it from the Tompkins estate." - -"You don't say. I didn't know they had that much on hand." - -There was a certain skill displayed in the lawyer's choice of questions -and observations that somehow held him aloof from the unlettered man, -and there was, too, something in his easy, bland manner that defied the -open charge of underhand dealing, and yet Bishop had not paid out his -railroad fare for nothing. He was not going back to his home-circle no -wiser than when he left it. His next remark surprised himself; it was -bluntness hardened by despair. - -"Sence I bought the land I've accidentally heerd that you are some kin -o' that family." - -Perkins started slightly and raised his brows. - -"Oh yes; on my wife's side, away off, some way or other. I believe -the original Tompkins that settled there from Virginia was my wife's -grandfather. I never was much of a hand to go into such matters." - -The wily lawyer had erected as strong a verbal fence as was possible on -such short notice, and for a moment it looked as if Bishop's frankness -would not attempt to surmount it; but it did, in a fashion. - -"When I heerd that, Perkins, it was natural fer me to wonder why you, -you see--why you didn't tell _them_ about the railroad." - -The sallow features of the lawyer seemed to stiffen. He drew himself up -coldly and a wicked expression flashed in his eyes. - -"Take my advice, old man," he snarled, as he threw down his pen and -stared doggedly into Bishop's face, "stick to your farming and don't -waste your time asking a professional lawyer questions which have no -bearing on your business whatever. Now, really, do I have to explain to -you my personal reasons for not favoring the Tompkins people with a--I -may say--any piece of information?" - -Bishop was now as white as death; his worst suspicions were confirmed; -he was a ruined man; there was no further doubt about that. Suddenly he -felt unable to bridle the contemptuous fury that raged within him. - -"I think I know _why_ you didn't tell 'em," was what he hurled at the -lawyer. - -"You think you do." - -"Yes, it was beca'se you knowed no road was goin' to be built. You told -Pete Mosely the same tale you did me, an' Abe Tompkins unloaded on 'im. -That's a way you have o' doin' business." - -Perkins stood up. He took his silk hat from the top of his desk and put -it on. "Oh yes, old man," he sneered, "I'm a terribly dishonest fellow; -but I've got company in this world. Now, really, the only thing that has -worried me has been your unchristian act in buying all that land from -the Tompkins heirs at such a low figure when the railroad will advance -its value so greatly. Mr. Bishop, I thought you were a good Methodist." - -"Oh, you kin laugh an' jeer all you like," cried Bishop, "but I can -handle you fer this." - -"You are not as well versed in the law as you are in fertilizers, Mr. -Bishop," sneered the lawyer. "In order to make a case against me, you'd -have to publicly betray a matter I told to you in confidence, and then -what would you gain? I doubt if the court would force me to explain -a private matter like this where the interests of my clients are -concerned. And if the court did, I could simply show the letters I have -regarding the possible construction of a railroad in your section. If -you remember rightly, I did not say the thing was an absolute certainty. -On top of all this, you'd be obliged to prove collusion between me and -the Tompkins heirs over a sale made by their attorney, Mr. Trabue. There -is one thing certain, Mr. Bishop, and that is that you have forfeited -your right to any further confidence in this matter. If the road is -built you 'll find out about it with the rest of your people. You think -you acted wisely in attacking me this way, but you have simply cut off -your nose to spite your face. Now I have a long car-ride before me, and -it's growing late." - -Bishop stood up. He was quivering as with palsy. His voice shook and -rang like that of a madman. - -"You are a scoundrel, Perkins," he said--"a dirty black snake in the -grass. I want to tell you that." - -"Well, I hope you won't make any charge for it." - -"No, it's free." Bishop turned to the door. There was a droop upon -his whole body. He dragged his feet as he moved out into the unlighted -corridor, where he paused irresolutely. So great was his agony that he -almost obeyed an impulse to go back and fall at the feet of Perkins and -implore his aid to rescue him and his family from impending ruin. The -lawyer was moving about the room, closing his desk and drawing down the -window-shade. Up from the street came the clanging of locomotive bells -under the car-shed, the whir of street-cars, the clatter of cabs on the -cobble-stones. - -"It's no use," sighed Bishop, as he made his way down-stairs. "I'm -ruined--Alan an' Adele hain't a cent to their names, an' that devil--" -Bishop paused on the first landing like an animal at bay. He heard the -steady step of Perkins on the floor above, and for a moment his fingers -tingled with the thought of waiting there in the darkness and choking -the life out of the subtle scoundrel who had taken advantage of his -credulity. - -But with a groan that was half a prayer he went on down the steps and -out into the lighted streets. At the first corner he saw a car which -would take him to his brother's, and he hastened to catch it. - -William Bishop's house was a modern brick structure, standing on a -well-clipped lawn which held a gothic summer-house and two or three -marble statues. It was in the best portion of the avenue. Reaching it, -the planter left the car and approached the iron gate which opened on to -the granite steps leading up the terrace. It was now quite dark and many -pedestrians were hurrying homeward along the sidewalks. Obeying a sudden -impulse, the old man irresolutely passed by the gate and walked farther -up the street. He wanted to gain time, to think whether it would be -best for him in his present state of mind to meet those fashionable -relatives--above all, his matter-of-fact, progressive brother. - -"Somehow I don't feel one bit like it," he mused. "I couldn't tell -William. He'd think I wanted to borrow money an' ud git skeerd right -off. He always was afeerd I'd mismanage. An' then I'd hate to sp'ile -Adele's visit, an' she could tell thar was some'n wrong by me bein' heer -in sech a flurry. I reckon I _do_ show it. How could a body he'p it? Oh, -my Lord, have mercy! It's all gone, all--all me'n Betsy has saved." - -He turned at the corner of his brother's property and slowly retraced -his halting steps to the gate, but he did not pause, continuing his -way back towards the station. A glance at the house showed that all the -lower rooms were lighted, as well as the big prismatic lamp that hung -over the front door. Bishop saw forms in light summer clothing on the -wide veranda. "I 'll bet that tallest one is Sis," he said, pathetically. -"I jest wish I could see 'er a little while. Maybe it ud stop this awful -hurtin' a little jest to look at 'er an' heer 'er laugh like she always -did at home. She'd be brave; she wouldn't cry an' take on; but it would -hurt 'er away down in 'er heart, especially when she's mixin' with sech -high-flyers an' money-spenders. Lord, what 'll I do fer cash to send 'er -next month? I'm the land-porest man in my county." - -As he went along he passed several fashionable hotels, from which -orchestral music came. Through the plate-glass windows he saw men and -women, amid palms and flowers, dining in evening dress and sparkling -jewels. - -Reaching the station, he inquired about a train to Darley, and was told -that one left at midnight. He decided to take it, and in the mean time -he would have nothing to occupy him. He was not hungry; the travel and -worry had killed his appetite; but he went into a little café across -the street from the depot and ordered a sandwich and a cup of coffee. He -drank the coffee at a gulp, but the food seemed to stick in his throat. -After this he went into the waiting-room, which was thronged with tired -women holding babies in their arms, and roughly clad emigrants with -packs and oil-cloth bags. He sat in one of the iron-armed seats without -moving till he heard his train announced, and then he went into the -smoking-car and sat down in a corner. - -He reached Darley at half-past three in the morning and went to the only -hotel in the place. The sleepy night-clerk rose from his lounge behind -the counter in the office and assigned him to a room to which a colored -boy, vigorously rubbing his eyes, conducted him. Left alone in his room, -he sat down on the edge of his bed and started to undress, but with a -sigh he stopped. - -"What's the use o' me lyin' down almost at daybreak?" he asked -himself. "I mought as well be on the way home. I cayn't sleep nohow." - -Blowing out his lamp, he went down-stairs and roused the clerk again. -"Will I have to pay fer that bed ef I don't use it?" he questioned. - -"Why, no, Mr. Bishop," said the clerk. - -"Well, I believe I 'll start out home." - -"Is your team in town?" asked the clerk. - -"The team I'm a-goin' to use is. I'm goin' to foot it. I've done the -like before this." - -"Well, it's a purty tough stretch," smiled the clerk. "But the roads are -good." - - - - -IV - - -[Illustration: 9035] - -T was a little after sunrise; the family had just -left the breakfast-table when Bishop walked in; his shoes and trousers -were damp with dew and covered with the dust of the road. His wife saw -him entering the gate and called out to him from the hall: - -"Well, I declare! Didn't you go to Atlanta?" - -He came slowly up the steps, dragging his feet after him. He had the -appearance of a man beaten by every storm that could fall upon a human -being. - -"Yes, I went," he said, doggedly. He passed her and went into the -sitting-room, where his brother-inlaw stood at the fireplace lighting -his pipe with a live coal of fire on the tip of a stick. Abner Daniel -looked at him critically, his brows raised a little as he puffed, but he -said nothing. Mrs. Bishop came in behind her husband, sweeping him from -head to foot with her searching eyes. - -"You don't mean to tell me you walked out heer this mornin'," she cried. -"Lord have mercy!" - -"I don't know as I've prepared any set speech on the subject," said her -husband, testily; "but I walked. I could 'a' gone to a livery an' ordered -out a team, but I believe thar's more'n one way o' wearin' sackcloth -an' ashes, an' the sooner I begin the better I 'll feel." Abner Daniel -winked; the scriptural allusion appealed to his fancy, and he smiled -impulsively. - -"That thar is," he said. "Thar's a whole way an' a half way. Some folks -jest wear it next to the skin whar it don't show, with broadcloth ur -silk on the outside. They think ef it scratches a little that 'll satisfy -the Lord an' hoodwink other folks. But I believe He meant it to be whole -hog or none." - -Mrs. Bishop was deaf to this philosophy. "I don't see," she said, in her -own field of reflection--"I don't see, I say, how you got to Atlanta; -attended to business; seed Adele; an' got back heer at sunrise. Why, -Alfred--" - -But Bishop interrupted her. "Have you all had prayers yet?" - -"No, you know we hain't," said his wife, wondering over his strange -manner. "I reckon it can pass jest this once, bein' as you are tired an' -hain't had nothin' to eat." - -"No, it can't pass, nuther; I don't want to touch a mouthful; tell the -rest of 'em to come in, an' you fetch me the Book." - -"Well!" Mrs. Bishop went out and told the negro woman and her daughter -to stop washing the dishes and go in to prayer. Then she hurried out to -the back porch, where Alan was oiling his gun. - -"Something's happened to yore pa," she said. "He acts queer, an' says -sech strange things. He walked all the way from Darley this morning, an' -now wants to have prayers 'fore he touches a bite o' breakfast. I reckon -we are ruined." - -"I'm afraid that's it," opined her son, as he put down his gun and -followed her into the sitting-room. Here the two negroes stood against -the wall. Abner Daniel was smoking and Bishop held the big family Bible -on his quivering knees. - -"Ef you mean to keep it up," Abner was saying, argumentatively, "all -right an' good; but I don't believe in sudden spurts o' worship. My -hosses is hitched up ready to haul a load o' bark to the tannery, an' -it may throw me a little late at dinner; but ef you are a-goin' to make a -daily business of it I'm with you." - -"I'm a-goin' to be regular from now on," said Bishop, slowly turning the -leaves of the tome. "I forgot whar I read last." - -"You didn't finish about Samson tyin' all them foxes' tails together," -said Abner Daniel, as he knocked the hot ashes from his pipe into -the palm of his hand and tossed them into the chimney. "That sorter -interested me. I wondered how that was a-goin' to end. I'd hate to have -a passle o' foxes with torches to the'r tails turned loose in my wheat -jest 'fore cuttin' time. It must 'a' been a sight. I wondered how that -was a-goin' to end." - -"You 'll wonder how _yo're_ a-goin' to end if you don't be more -respectful," said his sister. - -"Like the foxes, I reckon," grinned Abner, "with a eternal torch tied -to me. Well, ef I am treated that away, I 'll go into the business o' -destruction an' set fire to everything I run across." - -"Ain' t you goin' to tell us what you did in Atlanta 'fore you have -prayer?" asked Mrs. Bishop, almost resentfully. - -"No, I hain't!" Bishop snapped. "I 'll tell you soon enough. I reckon I -won't read this mornin'; let's pray." - -They all knelt reverently, and yet with some curiosity, for Bishop often -suited his prayers to important occasions, and it struck them that he -might now allude to the subject bound up within him. - -"Lord, God Almighty," he began, his lower lip hanging and quivering, -as were his hands clasped in the seat of his chair, "Thou knowest the -struggle Thy creatures are makin' on the face of Thy green globe to live -up to the best of the'r lights an' standards. As I bend before Thee this -mornin' I realize how small a bein' I am in Thy sight, an' that I ort -to bow in humble submission to Thy will, an' I do. For many yeers this -family has enjoyed Thy bounteous blessings. We've had good health, -an' the influence of a Bible-readin', God-fearin' community, an' our -childern has been educated in a way that raised 'em head an' shoulders -above many o' the'r associates an' even blood kin. I don't know exactly -whar an' how I've sinned; but I know I have displeased Thee, fer Thy -scourge has fallen hard an' heavy on my ambitions. I wanted to see my -boy heer, a good, obedient son, an' my daughter thar in Atlanta, able to -hold the'r heads up among the folks they mix with, an' so I reached out. -Maybe it was forbidden fruit helt out by a snake in the devil's service. -I don't know--Thou knowest. Anyways, I steered my course out o' the calm -waters o' content an' peace o' soul into the whirlpool rapids o' -avarice an' greed. I'lowed I was in a safe haven an' didn't dream o' -the storm-clouds hangin' over me till they bust in fury on my head. Now, -Lord, my Father, give them hearts of patience an' forgiveness fer the -blunders of Thy servant. What I done, I done in the bull-headed way that -I've always done things; but I meant good an' not harm. These things we -ask in the name o' Jesus Christ, our blessed Lord an' Master. Amen." - -During the latter part of the prayer Mrs. Bishop had been staring at her -husband through her parted fingers, her face pale and agitated, and as -she rose her eyes were glued to his face. - -"Now, Alfred," she said, "what are you goin' to tell us about the -railroad? Is it as bad as brother Ab thought it would be?" - -Bishop hesitated. It seemed as if he had even then to tear himself from -the clutch of his natural stubbornness. He looked into all the anxious, -waiting faces before he spoke, and then he gave in. - -"Ab made a good guess. Ef I'd 'a' had his sense, or Alan' s, I'd 'a' made -a better trader. It's like Ab said it was, only a sight wuss--a powerful -sight wuss!" - -"Wuss?" gasped his wife, In fresh alarm. "How could it be wuss? Why, -brother Ab said--" - -"I never have told you the extent o' my draim's," went on Bishop in the -current of confession. "I never even told Perkins yesterday. Fust -an' last I've managed to rake in fully twenty thousand acres o' -mountain-land. I was goin' on what I'lowed was a dead-shore thing. -I secured all I could lay my hands on, an' I did it in secret. I was -afeerd even to tell you about what Perkins said, thinkin' it mought leak -out an' sp'ile my chances." - -"But, father," said Alan, "you didn't have enough money to buy all that -land." - -"I got it up"--Bishop's face was doggedly pale, almost defiant of his -overwhelming disaster--"I mortgaged this farm to get money to buy Maybry -and Morton's four thousand acres." - -"The farm you was going to deed to Alan?" gasped his wife. "You didn't -include that?" - -"Not in _that_ deal," groaned Bishop. "I swapped that to Phil Parsons -fer his poplar an' cypress belt." The words seemed to cut raspingly into -the silence of the big room. Abner Daniel was the only one who seemed -unmoved by the confession. He filled his pipe from the bowl on the -mantel-piece and pressed the tobacco down with his forefinger; then he -kicked the ashes in the chimney till he uncovered a small five coal. He -eyed it for a moment, then dipped it up in the shovel, rolled it into -his pipe, and began to smoke. - -"So I ain't a-goin' to git no yeerly pass over the new road," he said, -his object being to draw his brother-in-law back to Perkins's action in -the matter. - -"Perkins was a-lyin' to me," answered Bishop. "He hain't admitted it yet; -but he was a-lyin'. His object was to he'p the Tompkins sell out fer a -decent price, but he can' t be handled; he's got me on the hip." - -"No," said Abner. "I'd ruther keep on swappin' gold dollars fer -mountain-land an' lettin' it go fer taxes 'an to try to beat a lawyer at -his own game. A court-house is like the devil's abode, easy to git into, -no outlet, an' nothin' but scorch while you are thar." - -"Hush, fer the name o' goodness!" cried Mrs. Bishop, looking at her -husband. "Don't you see he's dyin' from it? Are you all a-goin' to kill -'im? What does a few acres o' land ur debts amount to beside killin' a -man 'at's been tryin' to help us all? Alfred, it ain't so mighty awful. -You know it ain't! What did me 'n' you have when we started out but -a log-house boarded up on the outside? an' now we've got our childern -educated an' all of us in good health. I railly believe it's a sin agin -God's mercy fer us to moan an' fret under a thing like this." - -"That's the talk," exclaimed Abner Daniel, enthusiastically. "Now you -are gittin' down to brass tacks. I've always contended--" - -"For God's sake, don't talk that way!" said Bishop to his wife. "You -don't mean a word of it. You are jest a-sayin' it to try to keep me from -seein' what a fool I am." - -"You needn't worry about me, father," said Alan, firmly. "I am able -to look out for myself an' for you and mother. It's done, and the best -thing to do is to look at it in a sensible way. Besides, a man with -twenty thousand acres of mountain-land paid for is not broken, by a long -jump." - -"Yes, I'm gone," said Bishop, a wavering look of gratitude in his eye as -he turned to his son. "I figured on it all last night. I can't pay the -heavy interest an' come out. I was playin' for big stakes an' got left. -Thar's nothin' to do but give up. Me buyin' so much land has made it -rise a little, but when I begin to try to sell I won't be able to give -it away." - -"Thar's some'n in that," opined Abner Daniel, as he turned to leave the -room. "I reckon I mought as well go haul that tan-bark. I reckon you -won't move out 'fore dinner." - -Alan followed him out to the wagon. - -"It's pretty tough, Uncle Ab," he said. "I hadn't the slightest idea it -was so bad." - -"I wasn't so shore," said Daniel. "But I was jest a-thinkin' in thar. -You've got a powerful good friend in Rayburn Miller. He's the sharpest -speculator in North Georgia; ef I was you, I'd see him an' lay the whole -thing before him. He 'll be able to give you good advice, an' I'd take -it. A feller that's made as much money as he has at his age won't give a -friend bad advice." - -"I thought of him," said Alan; "but I am a little afraid he will think -we want to borrow money, and he never lets out a cent without the best -security." - -"Well, you needn't be afeerd on that score," laughed the old man, as -he reached up on the high wagon-seat for his whip. "I once heerd 'im say -that business an' friendship wouldn't mix any better'n oil an' water." - - - - -V - - -[Illustration: 9042] - -HE following Saturday Alan went to Darley, as he -frequently did, to spend Sunday. On such visits he usually stayed at the -Johnston House, a great, old-fashioned brick building that had survived -the Civil War and remained untouched by the shot and shell that hurtled -over it during that dismal period when most of the population had -"refugeed farther south." It had four stories, and was too big for the -town, which could boast of only two thousand inhabitants, one-third of -whom were black. However, the smallness of the town was in the hotel's -favor, for in a place where no one would have patronized a second-class -hotel, opposition would have died a natural death. The genial proprietor -and his family were of the best blood, and the Johnston House was a sort -of social club-house, where the church people held their affairs and the -less serious element gave dances. To be admitted to the hotel without -having to pay for one's dinner was the hallmark of social approval. It -was near the ancient-looking brick car-shed under which the trains of -two main lines ran, and a long freight warehouse of the same date -and architecture. Around the hotel were clustered the chief financial -enterprises of the town--its stores, post-office, banks, and a hall -for theatrical purposes. Darley was the seat of its county, and another -relic of the days before the war was its court house. The principal -sidewalks were paved with brick, which in places were damp and green, -and sometimes raised above their common level by the undergrowing roots -of the sycamore-trees that edged the streets. - -In the office of the hotel, just after registering his name, Alan -met his friend Rayburn Miller, for whose business ability, it may be -remembered, Abner Daniel had such high regard. He was a fine-looking man -of thirty-three, tall and of athletic build; he had dark eyes and hair, -and a ruddy, out-door complexion. - -"Hello," he said, cordially. "I thought you might get in to-day, so I -came round to see. Sorry you've taken a room. I wanted you to sleep with -me to-night. Sister's gone, and no one is there but the cook. Hello, I -must be careful. I'm drumming for business right under Sanford's nose." - -"I 'll make you stay with me to make up for it," said Alan, as the clerk -behind the counter laughed good-naturedly over the allusion to himself. - -"Blamed if I don't think about it," said Miller. "Come round to the -office. I want to talk to you. I reckon you've got every plough going -such weather as this." - -"Took my horse out of the field to drive over," said Alan, as they -went out and turned down to a side street where there was a row of law -offices, all two-roomed buildings, single-storied, built of brick, and -bearing battered tin signs. One of these buildings was Miller's, which, -like all its fellows, had its door wide open, thus inviting all the -lawyers in the "row" and all students of law to enter and borrow books -or use the ever-open desk. - -Rayburn Miller was a man among ten thousand in his class. Just after -being graduated at the State University he was admitted to the bar and -took up the practice of law. He could undoubtedly have made his way at -this alone, had not other and more absorbing talents developed within -him. Having had a few thousand dollars left him at his father's death, -he began to utilize this capital in "note shaving," and other methods -of turning over money for a handsome profit furnished by the unsettled -conditions, the time, and locality. He soon became an adept in many -lines of speculation, and as he was remarkably shrewd and cautious, it -is not to be wondered at that he soon accumulated quite a fortune. - -"Take a seat," he said to Alan, as they went into the office, and he -threw himself into the revolving-chair at his littered desk. "I want to -talk to you. I suppose you are in for some fun. The boys are getting -up a dance at the hotel and they want your dollar to help pay the band. -It's a good one this time. They've ordered it from Chattanooga. It will -be down on the seven-thirty-five. Got a match?" - -Alan had not, and Miller turned his head to the open door. An old negro -happened to be passing, with an axe on his shoulder. - -"Heigh, there, Uncle Ned!" Miller called out. - -The negro had passed, but he heard his name called and he came back and -looked in at the door. - -"Want me, Marse Rayburn?" - -"Yes, you old scamp; get me a match or I 'll shoot the top of your head -off." - -"All right, suh; all right, Marse Rayburn!" - -"You ought to know him," said Miller, with a smile, as the negro hurried -into the adjoining office. "His wife cooks for Colonel Barclay; he -might tell you if Miss Dolly's going to-night, but I know she is. Frank -Hillhouse checked her name off the list, and I heard him say she'd -accepted. By-the-way, that fellow will do to watch. I think he and the -Colonel are pretty thick." - -"Will you never let up on that?" Alan asked with a flush. - -"I don't know that I shall," laughed Rayburn. "It seems so funny to see -you in love, or, rather, to see you think you are." - -"I have never said I was," said Alan, sharply. - -"But you show it so blamed plain," said Miller. - -"Heer 'tis, Marse Rayburn. Marse Trabue said you could have a whole box -ef you'd put up wid sulphur ones." - -Miller took the matches from the outstretched hand and tossed a cigar -to Alan. "Say, Uncle Ned," he asked, "do you know that gentleman?" -indicating Alan with a nod of his head. - -A quizzical look dawned in the old negro's eyes, and then he gave a -resounding guffaw and shook all over. - -"I reckon I know his hoss, Marse Rayburn," he tittered. - -"That's a good one on you, Alan," laughed Miller. "He knows your -'hoss.'I 'll have to spring that on you when I see you two together." - -As the negro left the office Mr. Trabue leaned in the doorway, holding -his battered silk hat in his hand and mopping his perspiring face. - -He nodded to Alan, and said to Miller: "Do you want to write?" - -"Not any more for you, thanks," said Miller. "I have the back-ache now -from those depositions I made out for you yesterday." - -"Oh, I don't mean that," the old lawyer assured him, "but I had to -borrow yore ink just now, and seein' you at yore desk I thought you -might need it." - -"Oh, if I do," jested Miller, "I can buy another bottle at the -book-store. They pay me a commission on the ink I furnish the row. They -let me have it cheap by the case. What stumps me is that you looked -in to see if I needed it. You are breaking the rule, Mr. Trabue. They -generally make me hunt for my office furniture when I need it. They've -borrowed everything I have except my iron safe. Their ignorance of the -combination, its weight, and their confirmed laziness is all that saved -it." - -When the old lawyer had gone the two friends sat and smoked in silence -for several minutes. Alan was studying Miller's face. Something told him -that the news of his father's disaster had reached him, and that Miller -was going to speak of it. He was not mistaken, for the lawyer soon -broached the subject. - -"I've been intending to ride out to see you almost every day this week," -he said, "but business has always prevented my leaving town." - -"Then you have heard--" - -"Yes, Alan, I'm sorry, but it's all over the country. A man's bad luck -spreads as fast as good war news. I heard it the next day after your -father returned from Atlanta, and saw the whole thing in a flash. The -truth is, Perkins had the cheek to try his scheme on me. I'm the first -target of every scoundrel who has something to sell, and I've learned -many of their tricks. I didn't listen to all he had to say, but got rid -of him as soon as I could. You must not blame the old man. As I see it -now, it was a most plausible scheme, and the shame of it is that no one -can be handled for it. I don't think the Tompkins heirs knew anything of -Perkins's plans at all, except that he was to get a commission, perhaps, -if the property was sold. Trabue is innocent, too--a cat's-paw. As for -Perkins, he has kept his skirts clear of prosecution. Your father will -have to grin and bear it. He really didn't pay a fabulous price for -the land, and if he were in a condition to hold on to it for, say, -twenty-five years, he might not lose money; but who can do that sort -of thing? I have acres and acres of mountain-land offered me at a much -lower figure, but what little money I've made has been made by turning -my capital rapidly. Have you seen Dolly since it happened?" - -"No, not for two weeks," replied Alan. "I went to church with her Sunday -before last, and have not seen her since. I was wondering if she had -heard about it." - -"Oh yes; she's heard it from the Colonel. It may surprise you, but the -thing has rubbed him the wrong way." - -"Why, I don't understand," exclaimed Alan. "Has he--" - -"The old man has had about two thousand acres of land over near your -father's purchases, and it seems that he was closely watching all your -father's deals, and, in spite of his judgment to the contrary, Mr. -Bishop's confidence in that sort of real-estate has made him put a -higher valuation on his holdings over there. So you see, now that your -father's mistake is common talk, he is forced to realize a big slump, -and he wants to blame some one for it. I don't know but that your father -or some one else made him an offer for his land which he refused. So you -see it is only natural for him to be disgruntled." - -"I see," said Alan. "I reckon you heard that from Miss Dolly?" - -Miller smoked slowly. - -"Yes"--after a pause--"I dropped in there night before last and she told -me about it. She's not one of your surface creatures. She talks sensibly -on all sorts of subjects. Of course, she's not going to show her heart -to me, but she couldn't hide the fact that your trouble was worrying her -a good deal. I think she'd like to see you at the ball to-night. Frank -Hillhouse will give you a dance or two. He's going to be hard to -beat. He's the most attentive fellow I ever run across. He's got a new -buggy--a regular hug-me-tight--and a high-stepping Kentucky mare for the -summer campaign. He 'll have some money at his father's death, and all -the old women say he's the best catch in town because he doesn't drink, -has a Sunday-school class, and will have money. We are all going to wear -evening-suits to-night. There are some girls from Rome visiting Hattie -Alexander, and we don't want them to smell hay in our hair. You know how -the boys are; unless all of us wear spike-tails no one will, so we took -a vote on it and we 'll be on a big dike. There 'll be a devilish lot of -misfits. Those who haven't suits are borrowing in all directions. Frank -Buford will rig out in Colonel Day's antebellum toggery. Did you bring -yours?" - -"It happens to be at Parker's shop, being pressed," said Alan. - -"I've had three in the last six years," laughed Miller. "You know how -much larger Todd Selman is than I am; he bursted one of mine from collar -to waist last summer at the Springs, and sweated so much that you could -dust salt out of it for a month afterwards. I can't refuse 'em, God -bless 'em! Jeff Higgins married in my best Prince Albert last week and -spilled boiled custard on it; but he's got a good wife and a fair job on -a railroad in Tennessee now. I'd have given him the coat, but he'd never -have accepted it, and been mad the rest of his life at my offer. Parker -said somebody had tried to scrape the custard off with a sharp knife, -and that he had a lot of trouble cleaning it. I wore the coat yesterday -and felt like I was going to be married. Todd must have left some of -his shivers in it I reckon that's as near as I 'll ever come to the -hitching-post." - -Just then a tall, thin man entered. He wore a rather threadbare -frock-coat, unevenly bound with braid, and had a sallow, sunken, and -rather long face. It was Samuel Craig, one of the two private bankers of -the town. He was about sixty years of age and had a pronounced stoop. - -"Hello!" he said, pleasantly; "you young bloods are a-goin' to play -smash with the gals' hearts to-night, I reckon. I say go it while you -are young. Rayburn, I want to get one of them iron-clad mortgage-blanks. -I've got a feller that is disposed to wiggle, an' I want to tie 'im up. -The inventor of that form is a blessing to mankind." - -"Help yourself," smiled Miller. "I was just telling Mr. Trabue that I -was running a stationery store, and if I was out of anything in the line -I'd order it for him." - -The banker laughed good-humoredly as he selected several of the blanks -from the drawer Rayburn had opened in the desk. - -"I hope you won't complain as much of hard times as Jake Pitner does," -he chuckled. "I passed his store the other day, where he was standin' -over some old magazines that he'd marked down. - -"'How's trade?' I asked 'im. 'It's gone clean to hell,' he said, and I -noticed he'd been drinking. 'I 'll give you a sample of my customers,' -he went on. 'A feller from the mountains come in jest now an' asked the -price of these magazines. I told him the regular price was twenty-five -cents apiece, but I'd marked 'em down to five. He looked at 'em for about -half a hour an' then said he wasn't goin' out o' town till sundown an' -believed he'd take one if I'd read it to him.'" - -Craig laughed heartily as he finished the story, and Alan and Miller -joined in. - -"I want you to remember that yarn when you get to over-checkin' on me," -said Craig, jestingly. "I was just noticing this morning that you have -drawn more than your deposit." - -"Over-checked?" said Miller. "You 'll think I have when all my checks get -in. I mailed a dozen to-day. They 'll slide in on you in about a week and -you 'll telegraph _Bradstreet's_ to know how I stand. This is a _fine_ -banker," Miller went on to Alan. "He twits me about over-checking -occasionally. Let me tell you something. Last year I happened to have -ten thousand dollars on my hands waiting for a cotton factory to begin -operations down in Alabama, and as I had no idea when the money would -be called for I placed it with his nibs here 'on call.'Things got in a -tangle at the mill and they kept waiting, and our friend here concluded -I had given it to him." - -"I thought you had forgotten you had it," said Craig, with another of -his loud, infectious laughs. - -"Anyway," went on Miller, "I got a sudden order for the amount and ran -in on him on my way from the post-office. I made out my check and stuck -it under his nose. Great Scott! you ought to have seen him wilt. I don't -believe he had half of it in the house, but he had ten million excuses. -He kept me waiting two days and hustled around to beat the band. He -thought I was going to close him up." - -"That was a close shave," admitted Craig. "Never mind about the -over-checking, my boy; keep it up, if it will help you. You are doing -altogether too much business with the other bank to suit me, anyway." - - - - -VI - - -[Illustration: 9051] - -HE young people assembled slowly at the dance that -evening. Towards dark it had begun raining, and according to custom two -livery-stable carriages, called "hacks," were engaged to convey all the -couples to and from the hotel. There was no disputing over who should -have the first use of the vehicles, for the young ladies who had the -reputation of getting ready early on such occasions were gone after -first, and those who liked to take their time in making preparations -were left till later. - -Everything in life is relative, and to young people who often went to -even less pretentious entertainments this affair was rather impressive -in its elegance. Lamps shone everywhere, and bunches of candles blazed -and sputtered in nooks hung about with evergreens. The girls were -becomingly attired in light evening-gowns, and many of them were -good-looking, refined, and graceful. All were soft-spoken and easy in -their manners, and either wore or carried flowers. The evening-suits of -the young men were well in evidence, and more noticeable to the wearers -themselves than they would have been to a spectator used to conventional -style of dress. They could be seen in all stages of inadaptability to -figures too large or too small, and even after the dance began -there were several swaps, and a due amount of congratulation on the -improvement from the appreciative fair sex. The young lady accompanying -each young man had pinned a small bouquet on his lapel, so that it -would have been impossible to tell whether a man had a natural taste for -flowers or was the willing victim to a taste higher than his own. - -Rayburn Miller and Alan sat smoking and talking in the room of the -latter till about half-past nine o' clock, and then they went down. As -a general rule, young men were expected to escort ladies to dances, when -the young men went at all; but Alan was often excused from so doing -on account of living in the country, and Miller had broken down every -precedent in that respect and never invited a girl to go with him. He -atoned for this shortcoming by contributing most liberally to every -entertainment given by the young people, even when he was out of town. -He used to say he liked to graze and nibble at such things and feel free -to go to bed or business at will. - -As the two friends entered the big parlor, Alan espied the girl about -whom he had been thinking all day. She was seated in one of the deep, -lace-curtained windows behind the piano. Frank Hillhouse was just -presenting to her a faultlessly attired travelling salesman. At this -juncture one of the floor-managers with a white rosette on his lapel -called Miller away to ask his advice about some details, and Alan turned -out of the parlor into the wide corridor which ran through the house. He -did this in obedience to another unwritten law governing Darley's social -intercourse--that it would be impolite for a resident gentleman to -intrude himself upon a stranger who had just been introduced to a lady. -So he went down to the ground floor and strolled into the office. It was -full of tobacco smoke and a throng of men, some of whom were from the -country and others from the town, drawn to the hotel by the festivities. -From the office a door opened into a bar and billiard room, whence came -the clicking of ivory balls and the grounding of cues. Another door led -into the large dining-room, which had been cleared of its tables that it -might be used for dancing. There was a sawing of fiddles, the twanging -of guitars, the jingle of tambourines, and the groaning of a bass-viol. -The musicians, black and yellow, occupied chairs on one of the tables, -which had been placed against the wall, and one of the floor-managers -was engaged in whittling paraffine-candles over the floor and rubbing -it in with his feet. Seeing what he was doing, some of the young men, -desirous of trying their new patent-leather pumps, came in and began to -waltz singly and in couples. - -When everything was in readiness the floor-managers piloted the dancers -down-stairs. From the office Alan saw them filing into the big room and -taking seats in the chairs arranged against the walls on all sides. -He saw Frank Hillhouse and Dolly Barclay sit down near the band; the -salesman had disappeared. Alan threw his cigar away and went straight to -her. - -"Oh, here you are," laughed Frank Hillhouse, as Alan shook hands with -her. "I told Miss Dolly coming on that the west wind would blow you this -way, and when I saw Ray Miller just now I knew you'd struck the town." - -"It wasn't exactly the wind," replied Alan. "I'm afraid you will forget -me if I stay on the farm all the time." - -"We certainly are glad to have you," smiled Miss Barclay. - -"I knew she'd say that--I knew it--I knew it," said Hillhouse. "A girl -can always think of nicer things to say to a feller than his rival can. -Old Squire Trabue was teasing me the other day about how hard you was -to beat, Bishop, but I told him the bigger the war the more victory for -somebody; and, as the feller said, I tote fair and am above board." - -Alan greeted this with an all but visible shudder. There was much in his -dignified bearing and good appearance to commend him to the preference -of any thinking woman, especially when contrasted to Hill-house, who -was only a little taller than Dolly, and was showing himself even at -a greater disadvantage in his unrefined allusions to his and Alan' s -attentions to her. Indeed, Alan was sorry for the spectacle the fellow -was making of himself, and tried to pass it over. - -"I usually come in on Saturdays," he explained. - -"That's true," said Dolly, with one of her rare smiles. - -"Yes"--Hillhouse took another header into forbidden waters--"he's about -joined your church, they tell me." - -Alan treated this with an indulgent smile. He did not dislike Hillhouse, -but he did not admire him, and he had never quite liked his constant -attentions to Miss Barclay. But it was an acknowledged fact among the -society girls of Darley that if a girl refused to go out with any young -man in good standing it was not long before she was left at home oftener -than was pleasant. Dolly was easily the best-looking girl in the room; -not, perhaps, the most daintily pretty, but she possessed a beauty which -strength of character and intellect alone could give to a face already -well featured. Even her physical beauty alone was of that texture which -gives the beholder an agreeable sense of solidity. She was well formed, -above medium height, had a beautiful neck and shoulders, dark-gray eyes, -and abundant golden-brown hair. - -"May I see your card?" asked Alan. "I came early to secure at least -one." - -At this Frank Hillhouse burst out laughing and she smiled up at Alan. -"He's been teasing me all evening about the predicament I'm in," she -explained. "The truth is, I'm not going to dance at all. The presiding -elder happened in town to-day, on his way through, and is at our house. -You know how bitter he is against church-members dancing. At first -mamma said I shouldn't come a step; but Mr. Hillhouse and I succeeded in -getting up a compromise. I can only look on. But my friends are having -pity on me and filling my card for what they call stationary dances." - -Alan laughed as he took the card, which was already almost filled, and -wrote his name in one of the blank spaces. Some one called Hillhouse -away, and then an awkward silence fell upon them. For the first time -Alan noticed a worried expression on her face, now that it was in -repose, but it lighted up again when she spoke. - -"You have no button-hole bouquet," she said, noticing his bare lapel. -"That's what you get for not bringing a girl. Let me make you one." - -"I wish you would," he said, thoughtfully, for as she began to search -among her flowers for some rosebuds and leaves he noted again the -expression of countenance that had already puzzled him. - -"Since you are so popular," he went on, his eyes on her deft fingers, -"I'd better try to make another engagement. I'd as well confess that -I came in town solely to ask you to let me take you to church tomorrow -evening." - -He saw her start; she raised her eyes to his almost imploringly, and -then she looked down. He saw her breast heave suddenly as with tightened -lips she leaned forward to pin the flowers on his coat. The jewels in -her rings flashed under his eyes; there was a delicate perfume in the -air about her glorious head. He had never seen her look so beautiful -before. He wondered at her silence at just such a moment. The tightness -of her lips gave way and they fell to trembling when she started to -speak. - -"I hardly know what to say," she began. "I--I--you know I said the -presiding elder was at our house, and--" - -"Oh, I understand," broke in Alan; "that's all right. Of course, use -your own--" - -"No, I must be plain with you," she broke in, raising a pair of -helpless, tortured eyes to his; "you will not think I had anything to do -with it. In fact, my heart is almost broken. I'm very, very unhappy." - -He was still totally at sea as to the cause of her strange distress. -"Perhaps you'd rather not tell me at all," he said, sympathetically; his -tone never had been so tender. "You need not, you know." - -"But it's a thing I could not keep from you long, anyway," she said, -tremulously. "In fact, it is due you--an explanation, I mean. Oh, Alan, -papa has taken up the idea that we--that we like each other too much, -and--" - -The life and soul seemed to leave Alan' s face. - -"I understand," he heard himself saying; "he does not want me to visit -you any more." - -She made no reply; he saw her catch a deep breath, and her eyes went -down to her flowers. The music struck up. The mulatto leader stood -waving his fiddle and calling for "the grand march" in loud, melodious -tones. There was a scrambling for partners; the young men gave their -left arms to the ladies and merrily dragged them to their places. - -"I hope you do not blame me--that you don't think that I--" but the -clatter and clamor ingulfed her words. - -"No, not at all," he told her; "but it's awful--simply awful I I know -you are a true friend, and that's some sort of comfort." - -"And I always shall be," she gulped. "You must try not to feel hurt. You -know my father is a very peculiar man, and has an awful will, and nobody -was ever so obstinate." - -Then Alan' s sense of the great injustice of the thing rose up within -him and his blood began to boil. "Perhaps I ought to take my name off -your card," he said, drawing himself up slightly; "if he were to hear -that I talked to you to-night he might make it unpleasant for you." - -"If you do I shall never--_never forgive you_," she answered, in a voice -that shook. There was, too, a glistening in her eyes, as if tears were -springing. "Wouldn't that show that you harbored ill-will against me, -when I am so helpless and troubled?" - -"Yes, it would; and I shall come back," he made answer. He rose, for -Hillhouse, calling loudly over his shoulder to some one, was thrusting -his bowed arm down towards her. - -"I beg your pardon," he said to Dolly. "I didn't know they had called -the march. We've got some ice-cream hid out up-stairs, and some of us -are going for it. Won't you take some, Bishop?" - -"No, thank you," said Alan, and they left him. - - - - -VI - - -[Illustration: 9058] - -LAN made his way along the wall, out of the track of the promenaders, -into the office, anxious to escape being spoken to by any one. But here -several jovial men from the mountains who knew him intimately gathered -around him and began to make laughing remarks about his dress. - -"You look fer the world like a dirt-dauber." This comparison to a kind -of black wasp came from Pole Baker, a tall, heavily built farmer with -an enormous head, thick eyebrows, and long, shaggy hair. He lived on -Bishop's farm, and had been brought up with Alan. "I 'll be derned ef -you ain't nimble on yore feet, though. I've seed you cut the pigeon-wing -over on Mossy Creek with them big, strappin' gals 'fore you had yore -sights as high as these town folks." - -"It's that thar vest that gits me," said another. "I reckon it's cut -low so you won't drap saft victuals on it; but I guess you don't do much -eatin' with that collar on. It don't look like yore Adam's-apple could -stir a peg under it." - -With a good-natured reply and a laugh he did not feel, Alan hurried out -of the office and up to his room, where he had left his lamp burning. -Rayburn Miller's hat and light overcoat were on the bed. Alan sat down -in one of the stiff-backed, split-bottom chairs and stared straight in -front of him. Never in his life had he suffered as he was now suffering. -He could see no hope ahead; the girl he loved was lost to him. Her -father had heard of the foolhardiness of old man Bishop, and, like many -another well-meaning parent, had determined to save his daughter from -the folly of marrying a penniless man, who had doubtless inherited his -father's lack of judgment and caution. - -There was a rap on the closed door, and immediately afterwards Rayburn -Miller turned the knob and came in. His kindly glance swept the face of -his friend, and he said, with forced lightness: - -"I was doing the cake-walk with that fat Howard girl from Rome when I -saw you leave the room. She can' t hide the fact that she is from a city -of ten thousand population. She kept calling my attention to what our -girls had on and sniggering. She's been to school in Boston and looked -across the ocean from there. You know I don't think we lead the world, -but it makes me fighting mad to have our town sneered at. When she was -making so much fun of the girls' dresses, I came in an inch of asking -her if she was a dressmaker. By God, I did! You remember," Miller went -on lightly, as if he had divined Alan' s misery and was trying to cheer -him up--"you remember how Percy Lee, Hamilton's shoe-clerk, hit back -at that Savannah girl. She was stopping in this house for a month one -summer, and he called on her and took her driving several times; but one -day she let herself out. 'Everything is so different up here, Mr. -Lee,'she giggled. 'Down home, girls in good society never receive young -men in your business.'It was a lick between the eyes; but old North -Georgia was ready for it. 'Oh,'said Percy, whose mother's blood is as -blue as indigo, 'the Darley girls draw the line, too; I only get to go -with hotel girls.'" - -Alan looked up and smiled, but his face seemed frozen. Miller sat down, -and an awkward silence fell for several minutes. It was broken by the -lawyer. - -"I don't want to bore you, old man," he said, "but I just had to follow -you. I saw from your looks as you left the ballroom that something was -wrong, and I am afraid I know what it is." - -"You think you do?" asked Alan, flashing a glance of surprise upward. - -"Yes. You see, Colonel Barclay is a rough, outspoken man, and he made a -remark the other day which reached me. I wasn't sure it was true, so I -didn't mention it; but I reckon my informant knew what he was talking -about." - -Alan nodded despondently. "I asked her to go to church with me to-morrow -night. She was awfully embarrassed, and finally told me of her father's -objections." - -"I think I know what fired the old devil up," said Miller. - -"You do?" - -"Yes, it was that mistake of your father's. As I told you, the Colonel -is as mad as a wet hen about the whole thing. He's got a rope tied to -every nickel he's got, and he intends to leave Dolly a good deal of -money. He thinks Frank Hillhouse is just the thing; he shows that -as plain as day. He noticed how frequently you came to see Dolly and -scented danger ahead, and simply put his foot down on it, just as -fathers have been doing ever since the Flood. My dear boy, you've got -a bitter pill to take, but you've got to swallow it like a man. You've -reached a point where two roads fork. It is for you to decide which one -you 'll take." - -Alan made no reply. Rayburn Miller lighted a cigar and began to smoke -steadily. There was a sound of boisterous laughter in a room across -the corridor. It had been set aside as the dressing-room for the male -revellers, and some of them were there, ordering drinks up from the bar. -Now and then from below came muffled strains of music and the monotonous -shuffling of feet. - -"It's none of my business," Miller burst out, suddenly; "but I'm friend -enough of yours to feel this thing like the devil. However, I don't know -what to say. I only wish I knew how far you've gone into it." - -Alan smiled mechanically. - -"If you can' t look at me and see how far I've gone you are blind," he -said. - -"I don't mean that," replied Miller. "I was wondering how far you -had committed yourself--oh, damn it!--made love, and all that sort of -thing." - -"I've never spoken to her on the subject," Alan informed him, gloomily. - -"Good, good! Splendid!" - -Alan stared in surprise. - -"I don't understand," he said. "She knows--that is, I think she knows -how I feel, and I have hoped that--" - -"Never mind about that," interrupted Miller, laconically. "There is a -chance for both of you if you 'll turn square around like sensible human -beings and look the facts in the face." - -"You mean--" - -"That it will be stupid, childish idiocy for either or both of you to -let this thing spoil your lives." - -"I don't understand you." - -"Well, you will before I'm through with you, and I 'll do you up brown. -There are simply two courses open to you, my boy. One is to treat -Colonel Barclay's wishes with dignified respect, and bow and retire just -as any European gentleman would do when told that his pile was too small -to be considered." - -"And the other?" asked Alan, sharply. - -"The other is to follow in the footsteps of nearly every sentimental -fool that ever was born, and go around looking like a last year's -bird's-nest, looking good for nothing, and being good for nothing; or, -worse yet, persuading the girl to elope, and thus angering her father so -that he will cut her out of what's coming to her and what is her right, -my boy. She may be willing to live on a bread-and-water diet for a -while, but she 'll lose flesh and temper in the long run. If you don't -make as much money for her as you cause her to lose she 'll tell you -of it some day, or at least let you see it, an' that's as long as it's -wide. You are now giving yourself a treatment in self-hypnotism, telling -yourself that life has not and cannot produce a thing for you beyond -that particular pink frock and yellow head. I know how you feel. I've -been there six different times, beginning with a terrible long first -attack and dwindling down, as I became inoculated with experience, till -now the complaint amounts to hardly more than a momentary throe when -I see a fresh one in a train for an hour's ride. I can do you a lot -of good if you 'll listen to me. I 'll give you the benefit of my -experience." - -"What good would your devilish experience do me?" said Alan, -impatiently. - -"It would fit any man's case if he'd only believe it. I've made a study -of love. I've observed hundreds of typical cases, and watched marriage -from inception through protracted illness or boredom down to dumb -resignation or sudden death. I don't mean that no lovers of the ideal, -sentimental brand are ever happy after marriage, but I do believe that -open-eyed courtship will beat the blind sort all hollow, and that, in -nine cases out of ten, if people were mated by law according to the -judgment of a sensible, open-eyed jury, they would be happier than they -now are. Nothing ever spoken is truer than the commandment, 'Thou shalt -have no other God but me.'Let a man put anything above the principle -of living right and he will be miserable. The man who holds gold as the -chief thing in life will starve to death in its cold glitter, while a -pauper in rags will have a laugh that rings with the music of immortal -joy. In the same way the man who declares that only one woman is suited -to him is making a god of her--raising her to a seat that won't support -her dead, material weight. I frankly believe that the glamour of love -is simply a sort of insanity that has never been correctly named and -treated because so many people have been the victims of it." - -"Do you know," Alan burst in, almost angrily, "when you talk that way -I think you are off. I know what's the matter with you; you have simply -frittered away your heart, your ability to love and appreciate a good -woman. Thank Heaven! your experience has not been mine. I don't see how -you could ever be happy with a woman. I couldn't look a pure wife in the -face and remember all the flirtations you've indulged in--that is, if -they were mine." - -"There you go," laughed Miller; "make it personal, that's the only way -the average lover argues. I am speaking in general terms. Let me finish. -Take two examples: first, the chap crazily in love, who faces life -with the red rag of his infatuation--his girl. No parental objection, -everything smooth, and a car-load of silverware--a clock for every room -in the house. They start out on their honeymoon, doing the chief cities -at the biggest hotels and the theatres in the three-dollar seats. They -soon tire of themselves and lay it to the trip. Every day they rake away -a handful of glamour from each other, till, when they reach home, -they have come to the conclusion that they are only human, and not the -highest order at that. For a while they have a siege of discontent, -wondering where it's all gone. Finally, the man is forced to go about -his work, and the woman gets to making things to go on the backs of -chairs and trying to spread her trousseau over the next year, and they -begin to court resignation. Now if they had not had the glamour attack -they would have got down to business sooner, that's all, and they -would have set a better example to other plungers. Now for the second -illustration. Poverty on one side, boodle on the other; more glamour -than in other case, because of the gulf between. They get married--they -have to; they've inherited the stupid idea that the Lord is at the -bottom of it and that the glamour is His smile. Like the other couple, -their eyes are finally opened to the facts, and they begin to secretly -wonder what it's all about; the one with the spondoolix wonders harder -than the one who has none. If the man has the money, he will feel good -at first over doing so much for his affinity; but if he has an eye for -earthly values--and good business men have--there will be times when he -will envy Jones, whose wife had as many rocks as Jones. Love and capital -go together like rain and sunshine; they are productive of something. -Then if the woman has the money and the man hasn't, there's tragedy--a -slow cutting of throats. She is irresistibly drawn with the rest of the -world into the thought that she has tied herself and her money to an -automaton, for such men are invariably lifeless. They seem to lose the -faculty of earning money--in any other way. And as for a proper title -for the penniless young idiot that publicly advertises himself as worth -enough, in himself, for a girl to sacrifice her money to live with -him--well, the unabridged does not furnish it. Jack Ass in bill-board -letters would come nearer to it than anything that occurs to me now. I'm -not afraid to say it, for I know you'd never cause any girl to give up -her fortune without knowing, at least, whether you could replace it or -not." - -Alan rose and paced the room. "That," he said, as he stood between the -lace curtains at the window, against which the rain beat steadily--"that -is why I feel so blue. I don't believe Colonel Barclay would ever -forgive her, and I'd die before I'd make her lose a thing." - -"You are right," returned Miller, relighting his cigar at the lamp, "and -he'd cut her off without a cent. I know him. But what is troubling me -is that you may not be benefited by my logic. Don't allow this to go any -further. Let her alone from to-night on and you 'll find in a few months -that you are resigned to it, just like the average widower who wants to -get married six months after his loss. And when she is married and has a -baby, she 'll meet you on the street and not care a rap whether her hat's -on right or not. She 'll tell her husband all about it, and allude to you -as her first, second, or third fancy, as the case may be. I have faith -in your future, but you've got a long, rocky row to hoe, and a thing -like this could spoil your usefulness and misdirect your talents. If -I could see how you could profit by waiting I'd let your flame burn -unmolested; but circumstances are agin us." - -"I'd already seen my duty," said Alan, in a low tone, as he came away -from the window. "I have an engagement with her later, and the subject -shall be avoided." - -"Good man!" Miller's cigar was so short that he stuck the blade of his -penknife through it that he might enjoy it to the end without burning -his fingers. "That's the talk! Now I must mosey on down-stairs and dance -with that Miss Fewclothes from Rome--the one with the auburn tresses, -that says 'delighted' whenever she is spoken to." - -Alan went back to the window. The rain was still beating on it. For a -long time he stood looking out into the blackness. The bad luck which -had come to his father had been a blow to him; but its later offspring -had the grim, cold countenance of death itself. He had never realized -till now that Dolly Barclay was so much a part of his very life. For a -moment he almost gave way to a sob that rose and struggled within him. -He sat down again and clasped his hands before him in dumb self-pity. He -told himself that Rayburn Miller was right, that only weak men would act -contrary to such advice. No, it was over--all, all over. - - - - -VIII - - -[Illustration: 9067] - -FTER the dance Frank Hillhouse took Dolly home in one of the drenched -and bespattered hacks. The Barclay residence was one of the best-made -and largest in town. It was an old-style Southern frame-house, painted -white, and had white-columned verandas on two sides. It was in the edge -of the town, and had an extensive lawn in front and almost a little farm -behind. - -Dolly's mother had never forgotten that she was once a girl herself, and -she took the most active interest in everything pertaining to Dolly's -social life. On occasions like the one just described she found it -impossible to sleep till her daughter returned, and then she slipped -up-stairs, and made the girl tell all about it while she was disrobing. -To-night she was more alert and wide-awake than usual. She opened the -front door for Dolly and almost stepped on the girl's heels as she -followed her up-stairs. - -"Was it nice?" she asked. - -"Yes, very," Dolly replied. Reaching her room, she turned up the -low-burning lamp, and, standing before a mirror, began to take some -flowers out of her hair. Mrs. Barclay sat down on the edge of the -high-posted mahogany bed and raised one of her bare feet and held it -in her hand. She was a thin woman with iron-gray hair, and about fifty -years of age. She looked as if she were cold; but, for reasons of her -own, she was not willing for Dolly to remark it. - -"Who was there?" she asked. - -"Oh, everybody." - -"Is that so? I thought a good many would stay away because it was a bad -night; but I reckon they are as anxious to go as we used to be. Then you -all did have the hacks?" - -"Yes, they had the hacks." There was a pause, during which one pair of -eyes was fixed rather vacantly on the image in the mirror; the other -pair, full of impatient inquiry, rested alternately on the image and its -maker. - -"I don't believe you had a good time," broke the silence, in a rising, -tentative tone. - -"Yes, I did, mother." - -"Then what's the matter with you?" Mrs. Barclay's voice rang with -impatience. "I never saw you act like you do to-night, never in my -life." - -"I didn't know anything was wrong with me, mother." - -"You act queer; I declare you do," asserted Mrs. Barclay. "You generally -have a lot to say. Have you and Frank had a falling out?" - -Dolly gave her shoulders a sudden shrug of contempt. - -"No, we got along as well as we ever did." - -"I thought maybe he was a little mad because you wouldn't dance -to-night; but surely he's got enough sense to see that you oughtn't -to insult brother Dill-beck that way when he's visiting our house and -everybody knows what he thinks about dancing." - -"No, he thought I did right about it," said Dolly. - -"Then what in the name of common-sense is the matter with you, Dolly? -You can' t pull the wool over my eyes, and you needn't try it." - -Dolly faced about suddenly. - -"I reckon you 'll sit there all night unless I tell you all about it," -she said, sharply. "Mother, Alan Bishop was there." - -"You don't say!" - -"Yes, and asked me to let him take me to church to-morrow evening." - -"Oh, he did?" - -"Yes, and as I didn't want father to insult him, I--" - -"You told him what your pa said?" - -"No, I just told him father didn't want me to receive him any more. -Heaven knows, that was enough." - -"Well, that was the best thing for you to do." Mrs. Barclay took a deep -breath, as if she were inhaling a delicious perfume. "It's much better -than to have him plunge in here some day and have your father break out -like he does in his rough way. What did Alan say?" - -"He said very little; but he looked it. You ought to have seen -him. Frank came up just about that time and invited me to have some -ice-cream, and I had to leave him. He was as white as a sheet. He had -made an engagement with me to sit out a dance, and he didn't come in the -room again till that dance was called, and then he didn't even mention -it. He acted so peculiarly, I could see it was nearly killing him, but -he wouldn't let me bring up the subject again. I came near doing it; but -he always steered round it." - -"He's a sensible young man," declared Mrs. Barclay. "Any one can see -that by looking at him. He's not responsible for his father's foolhardy -venture, but it certainly leaves him in a bad fix as a marrying man. -He's had bad luck, and he must put up with the consequences. There are -plenty of girls who have no money or prospects who would be glad to have -him, but--" - -"Mother," broke in Dolly, as if she had been listening to her own -troubled thoughts rather than her mother's words; "he didn't act as if -he wanted to see me alone. The other couples who had engagements to talk -during that dance were sitting in windows and out-of-the-way corners, -but he kept me right where I was, and was as carefully polite as if we -had just been introduced. I was sorry for him and mad at the same time. -I could have pulled his ears." - -"He's sensible, very sensible," said Mrs. Barclay, in a tone of warm -admiration. "A man like that ought to get along, and I reckon he will do -well some day." - -"But, mother," said Dolly, her rich, round voice rising like a wave and -breaking in her throat, "he may never think about me any more." - -"Well, that really would be best, dear, under the circumstances." - -"Best?" Dolly blurted out. "How can you say that, when--when--" - -"Dolly, you are not really foolish about him, are you?" Mrs. Barclay's -face dropped into deeper seriousness. - -Dolly looked away and was silent for a moment; then she faltered: "I -don't know, mother, I--I'm afraid if I keep on feeling like I do now -I 'll never get over it." - -"Ah, but you 'll not keep on feeling like you do now," consoled the older -woman. "Of course, right now, just after seeing how hard he took it, you -will kind o' sympathize with him and want to help him; but that will all -pass away. I remember when I was about your age I had a falling out with -Will Despree--a young man my father didn't like because his grandfather -had been an overseer. And, do you know, I thought I would actually kill -myself. I refused to eat a bite and threatened to run away with Will. To -this day I really don't know what I would have done if your grandfather -hadn't scared him away with a shot-gun. Will kept writing notes to me. I -was afraid to answer them, but my father got hold of one and went after -him on a fast horse. Will's family heard what was up and they kept him -out in the swamp for a few days, and then they sent him to Texas. The -whole Despree family took it up and talked scand'lous about us." - -"And you soon got over it, mother?" asked Dolly, almost in a tone of -dismay. - -"Well," said Mrs. Barclay, reflectively, "Will acted the fool so -terribly; he wasn't out in Texas three months before he sent back a -marked paper with an article in it about his engagement to the -daughter of a rich man who, we found out afterwards, used to keep a -livery-stable; then I reckon hardly any girl would keep caring for a boy -when his folks was telling such lies about her family." - -Dolly was staring studiously at the speaker. - -"Mother," she asked, "don't you believe in real love?" - -Mrs. Barclay laughed as if highly amused. "I believe in a different sort -to the puppy love I had for that boy. Then after that there was another -young man that I thought more of, if anything, than I did of Will; but -he was as poor as Job's turkey, and my folks was all crazy for me 'n' -your pa, who I'd never seen, to get married. I held out against the -idea, just like you are doing with Frank, I reckon; but when your pa -come with his shiny broadcloth coat and spotted silk vest--no, it was -satin, I think, with red spots on it--and every girl in town was crazy -to catch him, and there was no end of reports about the niggers he owned -and his high connections--well, as I say, it wasn't a week before I was -afraid he'd see Joe Tinsley and hear about me 'n' him. My father was in -for the match from the very jump, and so was your pa's folks. He put up -at our house with his nigger servant and didn't want to go about town -much. I reckon I was pleased to have him pick me out, and so we soon -fixed it up. Lordy, he only had to mention Joe Tinsley to me after we -got married to make me do anything he wanted. To this day he throws him -up to me, for Joe never did amount to anything. He tried to borrow -money from your pa after you was born. The neighbors had to feed his -children." - -"But you loved father, didn't you?" Dolly breathed, in some relief over -what she thought was coming. - -"Well, I can' t say I did," said Mrs. Barclay. "We had a terrible time -getting used to one another's ways. You see, he'd waited a good while, -and was some older than I was. After a while, though, we settled down, -and now I'm awful glad I let my father manage for me. You see, what your -pa had and what my father settled on me made us comfortable, and if a -couple is that it's a sight more than the pore ones are." - -Dolly stood before her mother, close enough to touch her. Her face wore -an indescribable expression of dissatisfaction with what she had heard. - -"Mother, tell me one thing," she said. "Did you ever let either of those -boys--the two that you didn't marry, I mean--kiss you?" - -Mrs. Barclay stared up at her daughter for an instant and then her face -broke into a broad smile of genuine amusement. She lowered her head to -her knee and laughed out. - -"Dolly Barclay, you are _such_ a fool!" she said, and then she laughed -again almost immoderately, her face in her lap. - -"I know what _that_ means," said Dolly, in high disgust. "Mother, I -don't think you can do me any good. You'd better go to bed." - -Mrs. Barclay rose promptly. - -"I think I'd better, too," she said. "It makes your pa awful mad for -me to sit up this way. I don't want to hear him rail out like he always -does when he catches me at it." - -After her mother had gone, Dolly sat down on her bed. "She never was -in love," she told herself. "Never, never, never! And it is a pity. She -never could have talked that way if she had really loved anybody as much -as--" But Dolly did not finish what lay on her tongue. However, when she -had drawn the covers up over her the cold tears rose in her eyes and -rolled down on her pillow as she thought of Alan Bishop's brave and -dignified suffering. - -"Poor fellow!" she said. "Poor, dear Alan!" - - - - -IX - - -[Illustration: 9074] - -HERE is a certain class of individuals that will gather around a man in -misfortune, and it differs very little, if it differs at all, from the -class that warms itself in the glow of a man' s prosperity. It is made -up of human failures, in the first instance, congratulating themselves -on not being alone in bad luck; in the second, desirous of seeing how a -fortunate man would look and act and guessing at his feelings. From the -appearance of Bishop's home for the first fortnight after his return -from Atlanta, you would have thought that some one was seriously ill in -the house or that some general favorite had returned to the family after -a long absence. - -Horses were hitched to the fence from the front gate all the way round -to the side entrance. The mountain people seemed to have left their -various occupations to subtly enjoy the spectacle of a common man like -themselves who had reached too far after forbidden fruit and lay maimed -and torn before them. It was a sort of feast at which the baser part of -their spiritual natures was fed, and, starved as they were, it tasted -good. Many of them had never aspired to bettering their lot even with -small ventures such as buying Jersey cows at double the value of common -cattle when it was reported that the former gave four times as much -milk and ate less, and to these cautious individuals Bishop's visible -writhing was sweet confirmation of their own judgment. - -Their disapproval of the old man's effort to hurry Providence could not -have been better shown than in the failure of them all to comment on -the rascally conduct of the Atlanta lawyer; they even chuckled over -that part of the incident. To their minds Perkins was a sort of far-off -personification of a necessary evil--who, like the devil himself, was -evidently created to show mortals their limitations. They were not going -to say what the lawyer had a right to do or should avoid doing, for they -didn't pretend to know; but they did know what their old neighbor ought -to have done, and if they didn't tell him so to his face they would -let him see it by their actions. Yes, Bishop was a different thing -altogether. He belonged to them and theirs. He led in their meetings, -prayed in public, and had till now headed the list in all charitable -movements. - -The Reverend Charles B. Dole, a tall, spare man of sixty, who preached -the first, second, third, and fourth Sundays of each month in four -different meetinghouses within a day's ride of Bishop's, came around as -the guest of the farm-house as often as his circuit would permit. He -was called the "fightin' preacher," because he had had several fearless -hand-to-hand encounters with certain moonshiners whose conduct he had -ventured to call ungodly, because unlawful. - -On the second Saturday after Bishop's mishap, as Dole was to preach the -next day at Rock Crest meetinghouse, he rode up as usual and turned his -horse into the stable and fed him with his own hands. Then he joined -Abner Daniel on the veranda. Abner had seen him ride up and purposely -buried his head in his newspaper to keep from offering to take the -horse, for Abner did not like the preacher "any to hurt," as he would -have put it. - -Dole did not care much for Abner either. They had engaged in several -doctrinal discussions in which the preacher had waxed furious over some -of Daniel's views, which he described as decidedly unorthodox. Daniel -had kept his temper beautifully and had the appearance of being amused -through it all, and this Dole found harder to forgive than anything -Abner had said. - -"You all have had some trouble, I heer, sence I saw you last," said the -preacher as he sat down and began to wipe his perspiring brow with a big -handkerchief. - -"Well, I reckon it mought be called that," Abner replied, as he -carefully folded his newspaper and put it into his coat-pocket. "None of -us was expectin' of it an' it sorter bu'sted our calculations. Alf had -laid out to put new high-back benches in Rock Crest, an' new lamps -an' one thing another, an' it seems to me"--Abner wiped his too facile -mouth--"like I heerd 'im say one day that you wasn't paid enough -fer yore thunder, an' that he'd stir around an' see what could be -done." Abner's eyes twinkled. "But lawsy me! I reckon ef he kin possibly -raise the scads to pay the tax on his investment next yeer he 'll do all -the Lord expects." - -"Huh, I reckon!" grunted Dole, irritated as usual by Abner's double -meaning. "I take it that the Lord hain't got much to do with human -speculations one way or other." - -"Ef I just had that scamp that roped 'im in before me a minute I'd fix -'im," said Abner. "Do you know what denomination Perkins belongs to?" - -"No, I don't," Dole blurted out, "an' what's more, I don't care." - -"Well, I acknowledge it sorter interests me," went on our philosopher, -in an inscrutable tone, "beca'se, brother Dole, you kin often trace -a man' s good ur bad doin' s to his belief in Bible matters. Maybe you -don't remember Jabe Lynan that stold Thad Wilson's stump-suckin' hoss -an' was ketched an' put up. I was at the court-house in Darley when he -received his sentence. His wife sent me to 'im to carry his pipe an' one -thing or other--a pair o' socks an' other necessary tricks--a little can -o' lye-soap, fer one thing. She hadn't the time to go, as she said she -had a patch o' young corn to hoe out. I found 'im as happy as ef he was -goin' off on a excursion. He laughed an' 'lowed it ud be some time 'fore -he got back, an' I wondered what could 'a' made him so contented, so I -made some inquiries on that line. I found that he was a firm believer in -predestination, an' that what was to be was foreordained. He said that -he firmly believed he was predestinated to go to the coal-mines fer -hoss-stealin', an' that life was too short to be kickin' agin the Lord's -way o' runnin' matters; besides, he said, he'd heerd that they issued a -plug o'.tobacco a week to chawin' prisoners, an' he could prove that he -was one o' that sort ef they'd look how he'd ground his jaw-teeth down -to the gums." - -"Huh!" grunted Dole again, his sharp, gray eyes on Abner's face, as if -he half believed that some of his own theories were being sneered at. -It was true that he, being a Methodist, had not advocated a belief in -predestination, but Abner Daniel had on more than one occasion shown a -decided tendency to bunch all stringent religious opinions together -and cast them down as out of date. When in doubt in a conversation with -Abner, the preacher assumed a coldness on the outside that was often not -consistent with the fires within him. "I don't see what all that's got -to do with brother Bishop's mistake," he said, frigidly, as he leaned -back in his chair. - -"It sets me to wonderin' what denomination Perkins belongs to, that's -all," said Abner, with another smile. "I know in reason he's a big -Ike in some church in Atlanta, fer I never knowed a lawyer that wasn't -foremost in that way o' doin' good. I 'll bet a hoe-cake he belongs to -some highfalutin crowd o' worshippers that kneel down on saft cushions -an' believe in scoopin' in all they kin in the Lord's name, an' that -charity begins at home. I think that myse'f, brother Dole, fer thar -never was a plant as hard to git rooted as charity is, an' a body ought -to have it whar they kin watch it close. It 'll die a heap o' times ef -you jest look at it, an' it mighty nigh always has bad soil ur a drougth -to contend with." - -Just then Pole Baker, who has already been introduced to the reader, -rode up to the fence and hitched his horse. He nodded to the two men on -the veranda, and went round to the smoke-house to get a piece of bacon -Bishop had promised to sell him on credit. - -"Huh!" Dole grunted, and he crossed his long legs and swung his foot up -and down nervously. He had the look of a man who was wondering why such -insufferable bores as Abner should so often accompany a free dinner. He -had never felt drawn to the man, and it irritated him to think that just -when his mental faculties needed rest, Abner always managed to introduce -the very topics which made it necessary for him to keep his wits about -him. - -"Take that feller thar," Abner went on, referring to Baker. "He's about -the hardest customer in this county, an' yet he's bein' managed right -now. He's got a wife an' seven children an' is a holy terror when he -gits drunk. He used to be the biggest dare-devil moonshiner in all these -mountains; but Alan kept befriendin' 'im fust one way an' another tell -he up one day an' axed Alan what he could do fer 'im. Alan ain't none -o' yore shoutin' kind o' Christians. He shakes a nimble toe at a shindig -when he wants to, an' knows the ace from a ten-spot; but he gits thar -with every claw in the air when some 'n' has to be done. So, when Pole -axed 'im that, Alan jest said, as quiet as ef he was axin' 'im fer a -match to light a cigar, 'Quit yore moonshinin', Pole.' That was all he -said. Pole looked 'im straight in the eye fer a minute, an' then said: - -"'The hell you say! By God, Alan Bishop, you don't mean that!' - -"'Yes, I do, Pole,' said Alan, 'quit! Quit smack off!' - -"'You ax that as a favor?' said Pole. - -"'Yes, as a favor,' said Alan, 'an' you are a-goin' to do it, too.' - -"Then Pole begun to contend with 'im. 'You are a-axin' that beca'se you -think I 'll be ketched up with,' he said; 'but I tell you the' ain't no -man on the face o' the earth that could find my still now. You could -stand in two feet of the door to it all day an' not find it if you -looked fer it with a spy-glass. I kin make bug-juice all the rest o' my -life an' sell it without bein' ketched.' - -"'I want you to give it up,' said Alan, an' Pole did. It was like -pullin' an eye-tooth, but Pole yanked it out. Alan is workin' on 'im now -to git 'im to quit liquor, but that ain't so easy. He could walk a crack -with a gallon sloshin' about in 'im. Now, as I started to say, Alan -'ain't got no cut-and-dried denomination, an' don't have to walk any -particular kind o' foot-log to do his work, but it's a-goin' on jest the -same. Now I don't mean no reflection on yore way o' hitchin' wings on -folks, but I believe you could preach yore sermons--sech as they are--in -Pole Baker's yeers till Gabriel blowed his lungs out, an' Pole ud still -be moonshinin'. An' sometimes I think that sech fellers as Alan Bishop -ort to be paid fer what they do in betterin' the world. I don't see -why you fellers ort always to be allowed to rake in the jack-pot unless -you'd accomplish more'n outsiders, that jest turn the'r hands to the job -at odd times." - -Dole drew himself up straight and glared at the offender. - -"I think that is a rather personal remark, brother Daniel," he said, -coldly. - -"Well, maybe it is," returned Abner; "but I didn't mean fer it to -be. I've heerd you praise up certain preachers fer the good they was -a-doin', an' I saw no harm in mentionin' Alan's method. I reckon it's -jest a case o' the shoe bein' on another foot. I was goin' to tell you -how this misfortune o' Alf's had affected Pole; he's been like a crazy -man ever since it happened. It's been all Alan could do to keep 'im from -goin' to Atlanta and chokin' the life out o' Perkins. Pole got so mad -when he wouldn't let 'im go that he went off cussin' 'im fer all he was -worth. I wonder what sort of a denomination a man ud fit into that 'll -cuss his best friends black an' blue beca'se they won't let 'im fight -fer 'em. Yes, he 'll fight, an' ef he ever does jine the ranks above he 'll -do the work o' ten men when thar's blood to spill. I seed 'im in a row -once durin' election when he was leggin' fer a friend o' his'n; he stood -right at the polls an' wanted to slug every man that voted agin 'im. He -knocked three men's teeth down the'r throats an' bunged up two more so -that they looked like they had on false-faces." - -Here the preacher permitted himself to laugh. Being a fighting man -himself, his heart warmed towards a man who seemed to be born to that -sort of thing. - -"He looks like he could do a sight of it," was his comment. - -At this juncture the subject of the conversation came round the house, -carrying a big piece of bacon wrapped in a tow grain-bag. - -"Say thar, Pole," Abner called out to the long, lank fellow. "We are -a-goin' to have preachin' at Rock Crest to-morrow; you'd better have a -shirt washed an' hung out to dry. They are a-beatin' the bushes fer yore -sort." - -Pole Baker paused and brushed back his long, thick hair from his heavy -eyebrows. - -"I've been a-waitin' to see ef meetin' ever'd do you any good, Uncle -Ab," he laughed. "They tell me the more you go the wuss you git to be. -Neil Filmore said t'other day ef you didn't quit shootin' off yore mouth -they'd give you a trial in meetin'." - -Abner laughed good-naturedly as he spat over the edge of the veranda -floor to the ground. - -"That's been talked, I know, Pole," he said, "but they don't mean it. -They all know how to take my fun. But you come on to meetin'; it will do -you good." - -"Well, maybe I will," promised Pole, and he came to the steps, and, -putting his bacon down, he bent towards them. - -"It's a powerful hard matter to know exactly what's right an' what's -wrong, in some things," he said. "Now looky heer." Thrusting his hand -down into the pocket of his trousers he drew out a piece of quartz-rock -with a lump of yellow gold about the size of a pea half embedded in it. -"That thar's puore gold. I got it this away: A feller that used to be my -right bower in my still business left me when I swore off an' went over -to Dalonega to work in them mines. T'other day he was back on a visit, -an' he give me this chunk an' said he'd found it. Now I know in reason -that he nabbed it while he was at work, but I don't think I'd have a -right to report it to the minin' company, an' so I'm jest obleeged to -receive stolen goods. It ain't wuth more'n a dollar, they tell me, an' -I 'll hang on to it, I reckon, ruther'n have a laborin' man discharged -from a job. I'm tryin' my level best to live up to the line now, an' -I don't know how to manage sech a thing as that. I've come to the -conclusion that no harm will be done nohow, beca'se miners ain't too -well paid anyway, an' ef I jest keep it an' don't git no good out of it, -I won't be in it any more'n ef I'd never got hold o' the blamed thing." - -"But the law, brother Baker," said Dole, solemnly; "without the law we'd -be an awful lot o' people, an' every man ort to uphold it. Render the -things that are Caesar's unto Caesar." - -Pole's face was blank for a moment, and Abner came to his rescue with a -broad smile and sudden laugh. - -"I reckon you don't remember him, Pole," he said. "He's dead. He was a -nigger that used to belong to old man Throgmartin in the cove. He used -to be sech an awful thief during slavery days that it got to be a common -sayin' that everything lyin' round mought as well be his'n, fer he'd -take it sooner ur later, anyways." - -"I've heerd o' that nigger," said Pole, much to the preacher's disgust, -which grew as Pole continued: "Well, they say a feller that knows the -law is broke an' don't report it is as guilty as the man who does the -breakin'. Now, Mr. Dole, you know how I come by this nugget, an' ef you -want to do your full duty you 'll ride over to Dalonega an' report it to -the right parties. I can't afford the trip." - -Abner laughed out at this, and then forced a serious look on his face. -"That's what you railly ort to do, brother Dole," he said. "Them Cæsars -over thar ud appreciate it." - -Then Mrs. Bishop came out to shake hands with the preacher, and invited -him to go to his room to wash his face and hands. As the tall man -followed his hostess away, Abner winked slyly at Pole and laughed under -his long, scrawny hand. - -"Uncle Ab, you ort to be killed," smiled Pole. "You've been settin' heer -the last half-hour pokin' fun at that feller, an' you know it. Well, I'm -goin' on home. Sally's a-goin' to fry some o' this truck fer me, an' I'm -as hungry as a bear." - -A few minutes after he had gone, Dole came out of his room and sat down -in his chair again. "That seems to be a sorter bright young man," he -remarked. - -"As bright as a new dollar," returned Abner, in a tone of warm -admiration. "Did you notice that big, wedge-shaped head o' his'n? It's -plumb full o' brains. One day a feller come down to Filmore's store. -He made a business o' feelin' o' heads an' writin' out charts at -twenty-five cents apiece. He didn't waste much time on the rest o' the -scabs he examined; but when he got to Pole's noggin he talked fer a good -hour. I never heerd the like. He said ef his talents had been properly -directed Pole ud 'a' made a big public man. He said he hadn't run across -sech a head in a month o' Sundays. He was right, you bet, an' every -one o' the seven brats Pole's got is jest as peert as he is. They are -a-growin' up in idleness an' rags, too. I wisht I could meet some -o' them dum big Yankees that are a-sendin' the'r money down heer an' -buildin' fine schools to educate niggers an' neglectin' the'r own race -beca'se it fit agin 'em. You cayn't hardly beat larnin' into a nigger's -head, an' it ud be only common-sense to spend money whar it ud do the -most good. I 'ain't got nothin' agin a nigger bein' larnt to read an' -write, but I cayn't stomach the'r bein' forced ahead o' deservin' white -folks sooner 'n the Lord counted on. Them kind o' Yankees is the -same sort that makes pets o' dogs, an' pampers 'em up when pore white -children is in need of food an' affection." - -"Pole looks like he had natural capacity," said Dole. He was fond of -conversing with Abner on any topic except that of religious matters. - -"He'd make a bang-up detective," laughed Abner. "One day I was at -Filmore's store. Neil sometimes, when he's rushed, gits Pole to clerk -fer 'im, beca'se he's quick at figures. It happened that Pole had the -store to 'imse'f one day when Neil had gone off to cut down a bee-tree -with a passle o' neighbors, an' a triflin' feller come in an' begun to -nose about. An' when Pole's back was turned to weigh up some cotton -in the seed he stole a pocket-book out o' the show-case. I reckon Pole -didn't like his looks much nohow, fer as soon as the skunk had gone he -begun to look about to see ef he'd tuck anything. All at once he missed -the pocket-book, an' told Neil that night that he was mighty nigh shore -the feller lifted it, but he couldn't railly swear to it. About a week -after that he seed the same feller comin' down the road headed fer the -store on his gray mule. Me 'n' Neil was both thar an' Pole hustled us in -the back room, an' told us to stay thar. He said he was a-goin' to find -out ef the feller stold the book. Neil was afeerd of a row an' tried to -prevent 'im, but he jest shoved us back an' shet the door on us. Neil -got 'im a crack in the partition an' I found me a knothole. - -"The feller hitched an' come in an' said howdy-do, an' started to take a -cheer nigh the door, but Pole stopped 'im. - -"'Come heer to the show-case,' ses he; 'I want to show you some 'n'.'The -feller went, an' I seed Pole yank out the box 'at had the rest o' -the pocket-books in it. 'Look y'heer,' Pole said, in a loud, steady -voice--you could 'a' heerd 'im clean to the creek--'look y'heer. The -regular price o' these books is fifty cents; that's what we sell 'em -fer; but you've got to run yore hand down in yore pocket an' give me a -dollar fer one quicker'n you ever made a trade in yore life.' - -"'What in the hell do you mean?' the feller said. - -"'I mean exactly what I said, an' you are a-losin' time.' said Pole, -talkin' louder an' louder. 'The price is fifty cents; but you got to -gi'me a dollar fer one. Haul 'er out, my friend; haul 'er out! It 'll be -the cheapest thing you ever bought in yore life.' - -"The feller was as white as a sheet. He gulped two or three times 'fore -he spoke, then he said: 'I know what you think; you think I took one -t'other day when I was lookin' in the show-case; but you are mistaken.' - -"'I never said a word about you takin' one,' Pole yelled at 'im, 'but -you'd better yank out that dollar an' buy one; you need it.' - -"The feller did it. I heerd the money clink as he laid it on the glass -an' I knowed he was convicted. - -"'They are only wuth fifty cents,' he said, kinder faint-like. - -"'Yo're a liar,' Pole yelled at 'im, 'fer you've jest paid a dollar fer -one on yore own accord. Now I 'll jest give you two minutes to straddle -that mule. Ef you don't I 'll take you to the sheriff myself, you damned -thief. - -"'I've always done my tradin' heer,' said the feller, thinkin' that ud -sorter pacify Pole, but he said: 'Yes, an' yore stealin', too, I reckon, -you black-livered jailbird. Git out, git out!' - -"Me 'n' Neil come in when the feller'd gone, but Pole was actually too -mad to speak. 'He got off too durned light,'he said, after a while. 'I -could 'a' sold 'im a big bill o' goods at a hundred per cent, profit, -fer he had plenty o' money. Now he's ridin' off laughin' at me.'" - - - - -X - - -[Illustration: 9086] - -EIL FILMORE'S store was about half a mile from Bishop's house, at the -crossing of the Darley road and another leading into East Tennessee. -Alan had gone down there one day to engage white labor to work in his -growing cotton, negroes being scarce, owing to the tendency of that race -to flock into the towns. With the aid of Pole Baker, who was clerking -that day for Filmore, he soon employed the men he wanted and started -to walk back home. On the way he was overtaken by his uncle, who was -returning from Darley in his wagon. - -"Hold on thar," the old man called out; "ef you are a-goin' home I 'll -rest yore legs." - -Alan smiled as he climbed up into the seat by the old man. - -"I shall certainly appreciate it," he said. "I'm tired out to-day." - -"I sorter thought you looked flabbergasted," returned Abner, as he swung -his whip over the backs of his sleek horses. "Well, I reckon I could -afford to give you a ride. I hauled that cuss Dole three miles goin' -t'other way. He had the cheek to yell at me from Habbersham's gin-house -an' axed me ef I'd haul 'im. Then he kept me waitin' till he'd helt -prayer an' read to the family." - -"You don't seem to like him," said Alan. "I've noticed that for some -time." - -"I reckon I don't to any great extent," said Abner, clucking to his -tired horses; "but it ain't raily to my credit. A feller's wrong -som 'er's, Alan, that allows hisse'f to hate anything the Lord ever made. -I've struggled agin that proposition fer twenty-five yeer. All this talk -about the devil makin' the bad an' the Lord the good is talk through -a hat. Bad things was made 'fore the devil ever jumped from his high -estate ur he'd never preferred a fork to a harp. I've tuck notice, too, -that the wust things I ever seed was sometimes at the root o' the best. -Manure is a bad thing, but a cake of it will produce a daisy bigger 'n -any in the field. Dole makes me gag sometimes; but as narrer as he is -twixt the eyes, he may do some good. I reckon that hell-fire sermon he -give us last August made some of the crowd sweat out a little o' the'r -meanness. I'd 'a' been more merciful on sech a hot day, though. He -mought 'a' reserved that harangue fer some cold day in December when -the stove-flues wouldn't work. Ef I'd 'a' been a-goin' tell about future -torment that hot day I'd 'a' said that every lost soul was made to -set on a cake o' ice in a windy spot through all eternity, an' I'd 'a' -started out by singin' 'On Greenland's Icy Mountain.' But that ain't -what I axed you to git in my wagon fer." - -"You didn't intend to try to convert me, then?" - -"No, I didn't, fer you are jest my sort of a Christian--better'n me, a -sight, fer you don't shoot off yore bazoo on one side or t'other, an' -that's the habit I'm tryin' to quit. Ef I could hold in when Dole gits -to spoutin' I'd be a better man. I think I 'll do better now. I've got a -tenpenny nail in my pocket an' whenever he starts in I'm goin' to bite -it an' keep my holt on it till he stops. Yes, you are jest my sort of -a Christian. You believe in breathin' fresh air into yore windpipe, -thankin' God with a clear eye an' a good muscle, an' takin' what He -gives you an' axin' 'Im to pass more ef it's handy. You know the Lord -has sent you a invite to His table, an' you believe in eatin' an' -drinkin' an' makin' merry, jest like you'd have a body do that was -stoppin' over night with you. Yes, I wanted to say some 'n' else to you. -As I got to the widder Snowden's house, a mile this side o' Darley, she -came out an' axed me ef I'd object to deliverin' a couple o' smoke-cured -hams to a feller in town that had ordered 'em. Of course that's what a' -old bach' like me 's heer fer, so I let 'er fling 'em in the back end." - -The speaker paused and smiled knowingly, and Alan noticed that he slowed -his horses up by drawing firmly on the reins as if he feared that their -arrival at the farm-house might interrupt what he had to say. - -"Well," said Alan, "you delivered the hams?" - -"Yes." Abner was looking straight ahead of him. "They was fer Colonel -Seth Barclay. I driv' up to the side gate, after I'd helloed in front -till I was hoarse, an' who do you reckon come trippin' out o' the -dinin'-room? - -It was _her_. Ef you hain't never ketched 'er off'n her guard round the -house, you've missed a treat. Durned ef I don't like 'er better without -a hat on than with all the fluffy flamdoodle that gals put on when they -go out. She was as neat as a new pin, an' seemed powerful glad to see -me. That made me bless the widder Snowden fer sendin' me thar. She said -the cook was off som 'er's, an' that old nigger Ned, the stable-man, was -in the garden-patch behind the house, so she was thar by 'erse'f. She -actually looked like she wanted to tote in the hams 'erse'f ruther'n -bother me; but you bet my old bones hopped off'n this seat quicker'n -you could say Jack Robinson with yore mouth open. I was afeerd my team -wouldn't stand, fer fellers was a-scootin' by on bicycles; but I tuck -the hams to the back porch an' put 'em on a shelf out'n re'ch o' the -dogs. Then I went back to my wagon. She follered me to the fence, an' I -noticed that some 'n' was wrong with 'er. She looked so funny, an' droopy -about the mouth, an' kept a-talkin' like she was afeerd I'd fly off. She -axed all about Adele an' how she was a-makin' out down in Atlanta, an' -said she'd heerd that Sis was mighty popular with the young men, an' -from that she axed about my craps an' the meetin' goin' on at Big -Bethel. Finally she got right white about the mouth, an' said, kinder -shaky, that she was afeerd you was mad about some 'n' her pa'd said about -you, an' I never seed a woman as nigh cryin' as she was without doin' of -it. - -"I told 'er I was at the fust of it; but I'd noticed how worried you've -looked heer of late, an' so I told 'er I'd been afeerd some 'n' had come -betwixt you two. Then she put her head down on the top rail o' the fence -an' helt it thar fer a good minute. After a while she looked up an' told -me all about it an' ended by axin' me ef I thought she was to blame in -the matter. I told 'er no; but her old skunk of a daddy had acted sech -a fool that I couldn't hold in. I reckon I told 'er jest about what I -thought o' him an' the more I raked up agin 'im the better she seemed -pleased. I tried to pin' er down to what she'd be willin' to do in a -pinch ef her pa continued to hold out agin you, but she was too sharp to -commit 'erse'f. It jest looked like she wanted to make up with you an' -didn't want no row nuther." - -The horses stopped to drink at a clear stream of water which ran across -the road on a bed of brown pebbles. The bridles were too tight to allow -them to lower their heads, so Alan went out on the heavy tongue between -the pair and unfastened the reins. When he had regained his seat he told -the old man in detail all that had happened at the dance at the hotel, -ending with the advice he had received from Rayburn Miller. - -"I don't know about that," Abner said. "Maybe Miller could call a halt -like that an' go on like nothin' had happened. I don't say he could nur -couldn't; but it's fool advice. You mought miss it, an' regret it to -yore dyin' day." - -Alan looked at him in some surprise; he had hardly expected just that -stand on the part of a confirmed old bachelor like his uncle. The old -man's glance swept dreamily over the green fields on either side of the -road across which the red rays of the setting sun were streaming. Then -he took a deep breath and lowered the reins till they rested on the -backs of the horses. - -"My boy," he began, "I'm a good mind to tell you some 'n' that I hain't -mentioned fer mighty nigh forty yeer. I don't believe anything but my -intrust in that town gal an' you would make me bring it up. Huh! Ray -Miller says you kin pass 'er over jest as ef you'd never seed 'er, does -he? An' go on an' pick an' choose agin. Huh! I wasn't as old as you are -by five yeer when the one I'm talkin' about passed away, jest a week -after me 'n' her 'd come to a understandin'. I've seed women, women, -women, sence I seed 'er corpse that day amongst all that pile o' wild -flowers that old an' young fetched from the woods whar me 'n' 'er used to -walk, but ef I live to be as old as that thar hill I 'll never forget my -feelin'. I kin see 'er right now as plain as I did then, an' sometimes -my heart aches as bad. I reckon you know now why I never got married. -Folks has poked a lots o' fun at me, an' I tuck it as it was intended, -but a lots o' times what they said made me suffer simply awful. They've -picked out this un an' that un, from spring chickins to hags o' all -ages, shapes, an' sizes; but the very thought o' givin' anybody her -place made me sick. Thar never was but one fer me. I may be a fool, but -I believe I was intended fer her. Shucks! Sech skip-abouts as Miller -may talk sech bosh as that, but it's because the Lord never give 'em the -glory o' the other thing. It larnt me the truth about the after-life; I -know thar's a time to come, an' a blessed one, ur the Lord never would -'a' give me that taste of it. She's som 'er's out o' harm's way, an' when -me 'n' her meet I 'll not have a wrinkle, an' I 'll be able to walk as -spry an' hopeful as I did when she was heer. Thar ort to be punishment -reserved fer hard-headed fools that separate lovin' young folks beca'se -one ur t'other hain't jest so many dollars tied in a rag. Don't you -listen to Miller. I don't say you ort to plunge right in an' make the -old man mad; but don't give up. Ef she's what I think she is, an' she -sees you ain't a-goin' to run after no fresh face, she 'll stick to you -like the bark on a tree. The wait won't hurt nuther one of you, either. -My wait ain't a-hurtin' me, an' yore'n won't you. I never seed a young -woman I liked better 'n I do the one you selected, an' I've sent up many -a petition that you'd both make it all right." - -The old man raised his reins and clucked to his horses. - -"Uncle Ab," said Alan, "you've made a better man of me. I've had a lot -of trouble over this, but you make me hope. I've tried to give her up, -but I simply cannot do it." - -"She ain't a-goin' to give you up, nuther," replied Abner; "that's -the purty part about it. Thar ain't no give up in 'er. She ain't that -sort. She's goin' to give that daddy o' her'n a tussle." - - - - -XI - - -[Illustration: 9092] - -NE morning early in July, as Alan was passing Pole Baker's cabin, on his -way to Darley, Pole's wife came out to the fence and stopped him. She -was a slender, ill-clad woman, who had once been pretty, and her face -still had a sort of wistful attractiveness that was appealing to one who -knew what she had been through since her marriage. - -"Are you goin' to town, Mr. Alan?" she asked, nervously. - -"Yes, Mrs. Baker," Alan answered. "Is there anything I can do for you?" - -She did not reply at once, but came through the little gate, which swung -on wooden hinges, and stood looking up at him, a thin, hesitating hand -on his bridle-rein. - -"I'm afeerd some 'n' s happened to Pole," she faltered. "He hain't been -home fer two whole days an' nights. It's about time fer 'im to spree -agin, an' I'm powerful afeerd he's in trouble. I 'lowed while you was -in town that you mought inquire about 'im, an' let me know when you come -back. That ud sorter free my mind a little. I didn't close my eyes all -last night." - -"I 'll do all I can, Mrs. Baker," Alan promised. "But you mustn't worry; -Pole can take care of himself, drunk or sober. I 'll be back to-night." - -Alan rode on, leaving the pathetic figure at the gate looking after him. -"I wonder," he mused, "what Uncle Ab would say about love that has that -sort of reward. Poor woman! Pole was her choice, and she has to make the -best of it. Perhaps she loves the good that's in the rascal." - -He found Rayburn Miller at his desk, making out some legal document. -"Take a seat," said Miller, "I 'll be through in a minute. What's the -news out your way?" he asked, as he finished his work and put down his -pen. - -"Nothing new, I believe," said Alan. "I've been away for two days. Not -having anything else to do, I made it my business to ride over every -foot of my father's big investment, and, to tell you the truth, I've -come to you with a huge idea. Don't laugh; I can't help it. It popped in -my head and sticks, that's all." - -"Good. Let me have it." - -"Before I tell you what it is," said Alan, "I want you to promise not to -ridicule me. I'm as green as a gourd in business matters; but the idea -has hold of me, and I don't know that even your disapproval will make me -let it loose." - -"That's a good way to put it," laughed Miller. "The idea has hold of you -and you can't let it loose. It applies more closely to investments -than anything else. Once git into a deal and you are afraid to let it -go--like the chap that held the calf and called for help." - -"Well, here it is," said Alan. "I've made up my mind that a railroad -can--and shall--be built from these two main lines to my father's lumber -bonanza." Miller whistled. A broad smile ingulfed the pucker of his -lips, and then his face dropped into seriousness. A look almost of pity -for his friend's credulity and inexperience came into his eyes. - -"I must say you don't want a little thing, my boy," he said, -indulgently. "Remember you are talking to a fellow that has rubbed up -against the moneyed world considerable for a chap raised in the country. -The trouble with you, Alan, is that you have got heredity to contend -with; you are a chip off the old block in spite of your belonging to a -later generation. You have inherited your father's big ideas. You are a -sort of Colonel Sellers, who sees millions in everything you look at." - -Alan' s face fell, but there remained in it a tenacious expression that -won Miller's admiration even while he deplored it. There was, too, a -ring of confidence in the young farmer's tone when he replied: - -"How much would a railroad through that country, eighteen miles in -length, cost?" - -"Nothing but a survey by an expert could answer that, even -approximately," said the lawyer, leaning back in his creaking chair. "If -you had the right of way, a charter from the State, and no big tunnels -to make nor long bridges to build, you might, I should say, construct -the road alone--without locomotives and rolling-stock generally--for a -little matter of one hundred and fifty thousand. I don't know; I'm only -guessing; but it wouldn't fall under that estimate." - -"I didn't think it would," replied Alan, growing more enthusiastic. "Now -then, if there _was_ a railroad to my father's property, how much would -his twenty thousand acres be worth?" - -Miller smiled again and began to figure on a scrap of paper with a -pencil. "Oh, as for that," he said, "it would really be worth--standing -uncut, unsawn, including a world of tan-bark--at least twenty-five -dollars an acre, say a clear half million for it all. Oh, I know it -looks as plain as your nose on your face; things always do on paper. It -looks big and it shines; so does a spider-web in the sunshine to a -fly; but you don't want to be no fly, my boy; and you don't want any -spider-webs--on the brain, anyway." - -Alan stood up and walked to the door and back; finally he shrugged his -broad shoulders. "I don't care what you say," he declared, bringing his -hand down firmly on Miller's desk. "It will pay, as sure as I'm alive. -There's no getting around the facts. It will take a quarter of a million -investment to market a half-million-dollar bunch of timber with the land -thrown in and the traffic such a road would secure to help pay expenses. -There are men in the world looking for such opportunities and I'm going -to give somebody a chance." - -"You have not looked deep enough into it, my boy," mildly protested -Miller. "You haven't figured on the enormous expense of running such a -road and the dead loss of the investment after the lumber is moved out. -You'd have a railroad property worth a quarter of a million on your -hands. I can't make you see my position. I simply say to you that I -wouldn't touch a deal like that with a ten-foot pole." - -Alan laughed good-naturedly as he laid his hand on his friend's -shoulder. "I reckon you think I'm off," he said, "but sooner or later -I'm going to put this thing through. Do you hear me? I 'll put it through -if it takes ten years to do it. I want to make the old man feel that -he has not made such a fool of himself; I want to get even with the -Thompson crowd, and Perkins, and everybody that is now poking fun at a -helpless old man. I shall begin by raising money some way or other to -pay taxes, and hold on to every inch of the ground." - -Miller's glance fell before the fierce fire of Alan's eyes, and for the -first time his tone wavered. - -"Well," he said, "you may have the stuff in you that big speculators are -made of, and I may simply be prejudiced against the scheme on account -of your father's blind plunging, and what some men would call -over-cautiousness on my part. I may be trying to prevent what you really -ought to do; but I am advising you as a friend. I only know _I_ would be -more cautious. Of course, you may try. You'd not lose in doing that; in -fact, you'd gain experience. I should say that big dealers in lumber -are the men you ought to see first. They know the values of such -investments, and they are reaching out in all directions now. They have -cleaned up the timber near the railroads." - - - - -XII - - -[Illustration: 9097] - -ILLER accompanied Alan to the door. Old Trabue stood in front of his -office in his shirt-sleeves, his battered silk hat on the back part of -his head. He was fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan and freely using -his handkerchief on his brow. He bowed cordially to Alan and came -towards him. - -"I want to ask you," he began, "as Pole Baker any way of raisin' money?" - -"Not that I know of," laughed Alan. "I don't know whether he's got a -clear title to the shirt on his back. He owes everybody out our way. My -father is supplying him on time now." - -"That was my impression," said Trabue. "He wanted me to defend 'im the -other day, but he couldn't satisfy me about the fee, an' I let him go. -He first said he could give me a lien on a mule, but he finally admitted -that it wasn't his." - -"He's not in trouble, is he?" exclaimed Alan, suddenly recalling Mrs. -Baker's uneasiness. - -Trabue looked at Miller, who stood leaning in the doorway, and laughed. -"Well, I reckon he might call it that. That chap owned the town two days -ago. He got blind, stavin' drunk, an' wanted to whip us from one end o' -the place to the other. The marshals are afraid of 'im, for they know -he 'll shoot at the drop of a hat, an' the butt of it was stickin' out o' -his hippocket in plain sight. Was you thar, Rayburn? Well, it was better -'n a circus. Day before yesterday thar was a sort o' street temperance -lecturer in front o' the Johnston House, speakin' on a dry-goods box. -He had a lot o' gaudy pictures illustratin' the appearance of a drinkin' -man' s stomach an' liver, compared to one in a healthy condition. He was -a sort of a snide faker, out fer what he could git dropped in a hat, an' -Pole was sober enough to git on to his game. Pole stood thar with the -rest, jest about able to stand, an' that was all. Finally, when the -feller got warmed up an' got to screechin', Pole begun to deny what he -was sayin'. As fast as he'd make a statement Pole would flatly deny it. -The feller on the box didn't know what a tough customer he had to handle -or he'd 'a' gone slow. As it was, he p'inted a finger o' scorn at Pole -an' helt 'im up fer a example. Pole wasn't sober by a long shot, but -you'd 'a' thought he was, fer he was as steady as a post. He kept -grinnin', as cool as a cucumber, an' sayin', 'Now you know yo' re -a-lyin', stranger--jest a-lyin' to get a few dimes drapped in yore hat. -You know nobody's stomach don't look like that durn chromo. You never -seed inside of a drinkin' man, an' yo' re the biggest liar that ever -walked the earth.' This made the crowd laugh at the little, dried-up -feller, an' he got as mad as Old Nick. He begun to tell Pole his liver -was swelled from too much whiskey, an' that he'd bet he was jest the -sort to beat his wife. Most of us thought that ud make Pole jump on 'im, -but he seemed to enjoy naggin' the feller too much to sp'ile it by -a fight. A nigger boy had been carryin' round a bell and a sign -advertisin' Webb's auction sale, an' stopped to see the fun. Pole -heerd the tinkle of the bell, an' tuck it an' begun to ring it in the -lecturer's face. The harder the feller spoke the harder Pole rung. It -was the damnedest racket ever heerd on a public square. Part of the -crowd--the good church folks--begun to say it was a disgrace to the town -to allow a stranger to be treated that away, sence thar was no law agin -public speakin' in the streets. They was in fer callin' a halt, but -all the rest--the drinkin' men, an' I frankly state I was one--secretly -hoped Pole would ring 'im down. When the pore devil finally won I felt -like yellin' hooray, fer I glory in the pluck even of a dare-devil, if -he's a North Georgian an' white. The lecturer had to stop without his -collection, an' went off to the council chamber swearin' agin the town -fer allowin' him to be treated that away. Thar wasn't anything fer the -mayor to do but order Pole's arrest, but it took four men--two regulars -and two deputized men--to accomplish it. - -"The trial was the richest thing I ever attended. Pole had sobered up -jest enough to be witty, an' he had no more respect fer Bill Barrett's -court than he had fer the lecturer's platform. Him an' Barrett used to -fish an' hunt together when they was boys, an' Pole kept callin' him -Bill. It was Bill this an' Bill that; an' as Barrett had only been -in office a month, he hardly knew how to rise to his proper dignity, -especially when he saw the crowd was laughin' at his predicament. When -I declined to defend 'im, Pole attempted to read the law on the case -to Barrett an' show whar he was right. Barrett let 'im talk because he -didn't know how to stop 'im, an' Pole made the best defence I ever heerd -from a unlettered man. It kept the crowd in a roar. For a while I swear -it looked like Pole was goin' to cleer hisse'f, but Barrett had to do -his duty, an' so he fined Pole thirty dollars, or in default thereof to -break rock on the streets fer ten days. You ort to 'a' heerd Pole snort. -'Looky heer, Bill!' he said, 'you know as well as yo're a-settin' cocked -up thar, makin' folks say 'yore honor' ever' breath they draw, that I -ain't a-goin' to break no rock in that br'ilin' sun fer ten day 'ca'se -I beat that skunk at his own game!' - -"You 'll have to do it if you don't pay out," Barrett told 'im. - -"'Well, I jest won't pay out, an' I won't break rock nuther,' Pole -said. 'You've heerd about the feller that could lead a hoss to water but -couldn't make 'im drink, hain't you? Well, I'm the hoss.' - -"Yesterday was Pole's fust day on the street. They put a ball an' chain -to one of his ankles an' sent 'im out with the nigger gang, but all -day yesterday an' to-day he hain't worked a lick. He's as stubborn as -a mule. Thar's been a crowd around 'im all the time. You kin see 'im -standin' up as straight as a post in the middle of the street from one -end of it to the other. I'm sorter sorry fer 'im; he looks like he's -ashamed at bottom, but don't want to give in. The funniest thing about -the whole thing is that Pole seems to know more about the law than the -mayor. He says unless they force him to work in the specified ten days -they can't hold him any longer, an' that if they attempt to flog 'im -he 'll kill the first man that lays hands on him. I think Bill Barrett -likes him too well to have 'im whipped, an' the whole town is guyin' -him, an' axin' 'im why he don't make Pole set in." - -Alan went down the street to see Pole. He found him seated on a large -stone, a long-handled rock-hammer at his feet. He looked up from under -his broad-brimmed hat, and a crestfallen look came into his big, brown -eyes. - -"I'm sorry to see this, Pole," said Alan. - -Pole stood up at his full height, the chain clanking as he rose. "They -hain't treated me right about this matter, Alan Bishop," he said, half -resentfully, half as if he recognized his own error. "Bill knows he -hain't done the fair thing. I know I was full, but I jest wanted to have -my fun. That don't justify him in puttin' me out heer with these niggers -fer folks to gap' at, an' he knows it. He ain't a friend right. Me 'n' -him has slep' together on the same pile o' leaves, an' I've let 'im pull -down on a squirrel when I could 'a' knocket it from its perch; an' I've -lent 'im my pointer an' gun many an' many a time. But he's showed what -he is! He's got the wrong sow by the yeer, though, fer ef he keeps -me heer till Christmas I 'll never crack a rock, unless I do it by -accidentally step-pin' on it. Mark my words, Alan Bishop, thar 'll be -trouble out o' this." - -"Don't talk that way, Pole," said Alan. "You've broken the law and they -had to punish you for it. If they hadn't they would have made themselves -ridiculous. Why didn't you send me word you were in trouble, Pole?" - -The fellow hung his head, and then he blurted out: - -"Beca'se I knowed you would make a fool o' yorese'f an' try to pay me -out. Damn it, Alan Bishop, this ain't no business o' yore'n!" - -"I 'll make it my business," said Alan. "How much is your fine? You ought -to have sent me word." - -"Sent you hell, Alan Bishop," growled the prisoner. "When I send you -word to he'p me out of a scrape that whiskey got me into I 'll do it -after I've decently cut my throat. I _say!_--when you've plead with me -like you have to quit the durn stuff!" - -At this point of the conversation Jeff Dukes, a man of medium size, -dressed in dark-blue uniform, with a nickel-plated badge shaped like a -shield and bearing the words "Marshal No. 2," came directly towards them -from a stone-cutter's shop near by. - -"Look heer, Bishop," he said, dictatorially, "whar'd you git the right -to talk to that man?" - -Alan looked surprised. "Am I breaking the law, too?" - -"You are, ef you hain't got a permit from the mayor in yore pocket." - -"Well, I have no permit," replied Alan, with a good-natured smile. "Have -you got another ball an' chain handy?" - -The officer frowned off his inclination to treat the matter as a jest. -"You ort to have more sense than that," he said, crustily. "Pole's put -out heer to work his time out, an' ef everybody in town is allowed to -laugh an' joke with him he'd crack about as many rocks as you or me." - -"You are a durn liar, Jeff Dukes," said Pole, angrily. "You are a-makin' -that up to humiliate me furder. You know no law like that never was -inforced. Ef I ever git you out in Pea Vine Destrict I 'll knock a dent -in that egg-shaped head o' yor'n, an' make them eyes look two ways fer -Sunday. You know a gentleman like Alan Bishop wouldn't notice you under -ordinary circumstances, an' so you trump up that excuse to git his -attention." - -The two men glared at each other, but Pole seemed to get the best of -that sort of combat, for the officer only growled. - -"You can insult a man when you are under arrest," he said, "beca'se you -know I am under bond to keep the peace. But I'm not afeerd of you." - -"They tell me you are afeerd o' sperits, though," retorted the prisoner. -"They tell me a little nigger boy that was shot when a passle o' skunks -went to whip his daddy fer vagrancy stands at the foot o' yore bed ever' -night. Oh, I know what I'm a-talkin' about!" - -"Yes, you know a lots," said the man, sullenly, as his eyes fell. - -To avoid encouraging the disputants further, Alan walked suddenly away. -The marshal took willing advantage of the opportunity and followed him. - -"I could make a case agin you," he said, catching up, "but I know you -didn't mean to violate the ordinance." - -"No, of course I didn't," said Alan; "but I want to know if that fellow -could be released if I paid his fine." - -"You are not fool enough to do it, are you?" - -"That's what I am." - -"Have you got the money in yore pocket?" The officer was laughing, as if -at a good joke. - -"I have." - -"Well"--the marshal laughed again as he swung his short club round by a -string that fastened it to his wrist--"well, you come with me, an' I 'll -show you a man that wants thirty dollars wuss than any man I know of. I -don't believe Bill Barrett has slept a wink sence this thing happened. -He 'll be tickled to death to git off so easy. The town has devilled the -life out of him. He don't go by whar Pole's at work--I mean, whar he -ain't at work--fer Pole yells at 'im whenever he sees 'im." - -That night when Alan reached home he sent a servant over to tell Mrs. -Baker that Pole was all right and that he'd be home soon. He had eaten -his supper and had gone up-stairs to go to bed when he heard his name -called outside. Going to a window and looking out, he recognized Pole -Baker standing at the gate in the clear moonlight. - -"Alan," he said, softly, "come down heer a minute. I want to see you." - -Alan went down and joined him. For a moment Pole stood leaning against -the fence, his eyes hidden by his broad-brimmed slouch hat. - -"Did you want to see me, Pole?" Alan asked. - -"Yes, I did," the fellow swallowed. He made a motion as if to reach out -his hand, but refrained. Then he looked straight into Alan's face. - -"I couldn't go to sleep till I'd said some 'n' to you," he began, with -another gulp. "I laid down an' made a try at it, but it wasn't no go. -I've got to say it. I'm heer to swear that ef God, or some 'n' else, -don't show me a way to pay you back fer what you done to-day, I 'll never -draw a satisfied breath. Alan Bishop, yo're a man, _God damn it!_ a man -from yore outside skin to the marrow o' yore bones, an' ef I don't find -some way to prove what I think about you, I 'll jest burn up! I got into -that trouble as thoughtless as I'd play a prank with my baby, an' then -they all come down on me an' begun to try to drive me like a hog out'n -a field with rocks an' sticks, an' the very Old Harry riz in me an' -defied 'em. I reckon thar wasn't anything Bill could do but carry out -the law, an' I knowed it, but I wasn't ready to admit it. Then you come -along an' rendered a verdict in my favor when you needed the money you -did it with. Alan, ef I don't show my appreciation, it 'll be beca'se I -don't live long enough. You never axed me but one thing, an' that was -to quit drinkin' whiskey. I'm goin' to make a try at it, not beca'se -I think that 'll pay you back, but beca'se with a sober head I kin be a -better friend to you ef the chance ever comes my way." - -"I'm glad to hear you say that, Pole," replied Alan, greatly moved by -the fellow's earnestness. "I believe you can do it. Then your wife and -children--" - -"Damn my wife an' children," snorted Pole. "It's _you_ I'm a-goin' to -work fer--_you_, I say!" - -He suddenly turned through the open gate and strode homeward across the -fields. Alan stood looking after him till his tall form was lost in the -hazy moonlight, and then he went up to his bed. - -Pole entered the open door of his cabin and began to undress as he sat -on the side of his crude bedstead, made of unbarked poles fastened to -the bare logs in one corner of the room. His wife and children slept on -two beds on the other side of the room. - -"Did you see 'im, Pole?" piped up Mrs. Baker from the darkness. - -"Yes, I seed 'im. Sally, say, whar's that bottle o' whiskey I had the -last time I was at home?" - -There was an ominous silence. Out of it rose the soft breathing of the -children. Then the woman sighed. "Pole, shorely you ain't a-goin' to -begin agin?" - -"No, I want to bu'st it into smithereens. I don't want it about--I don't -want to know thar's a drap in the house. I've swore off, an' this time -she sticks. Gi'me that bottle." - -Another silence. Suddenly the woman spoke. "Pole, you've swore off as -many times as a dog has fleas. Often when I feel bad an' sick when you -are off, a drap o' whiskey makes me feel better. I don't want you to -destroy the last bit in the house jest be-ca'se you've tuck this turn, -that may wear off before daylight. The last time you emptied that keg on -the ground an' swore off you got on a spree an' helt the baby over the -well an' threatened to drap 'er in ef I didn't find a bottle, an' you'd -'a' done it, too." - -Pole laughed softly. "I reckon yo' re right, old gal," he said. -"Besides, ef I can' t--ef I ain't man enough to let up with a bottle -in the house I won't do it without. But the sight or smell of it is hell -itse'f to a lover of the truck. Ef I was to tell you what a little thing -started me on this last spree you'd laugh. I went to git a shave in a -barber shop, an' when the barber finished he soaked my face in bay-rum -an' it got in my mustache. I kept smellin' it all mornin' an' tried to -wipe it off, but she wouldn't wipe. All the time I kept walkin' up an' -down in front o' Luke Sell-more's bar. Finally I said to myself: 'Well, -ef you have to have a bar-room stuck under yore nose all day like a wet -sponge, old man, you mought as well have one whar it 'll taste better, -an' I slid up to the counter." The woman sighed audibly, but she made no -reply. "Is Billy awake?" Pole suddenly asked. - -"No, you know he ain't," said Mrs. Baker. - -"Well, I want to take 'im in my bed." Pole stood out on the floor in the -sheet of moonlight that fell through the open door. - -"I wouldn't, Pole," said the woman. "The pore little feller's been -toddlin' about after the others, draggin' bresh to the heap tell he's -tired. He drapped to sleep at the table with a piece o' bread in his -mouth." - -"I won't wake 'im, God bless his little heart," answered Pole, and he -reached down and took the limp child in his arms and pressed him against -the side of his face. He carried him tenderly across the room and laid -down with him. His wife heard him uttering endearing things to the -unconscious child until she fell asleep. - - - - -XIII - -[Illustration: 9107] - -T was the second Sunday in July, and a bright, clear day. In -that mountainous region the early mornings of dry summer days are -delightfully cool and balmy. Abner Daniel was in his room making -preparations to go to meeting at Rock Crest Church. He had put on one -of his best white shirts, black silk necktie, doeskin trousers, flowered -waistcoat, and long frock-coat, and was proceeding to black his shoes. -Into an old pie-pan he raked from the back of the fireplace a quantity -of soot and added to it a little water and a spoonful of sorghum -molasses from a jug under his bed, stirring the mixture into a paste. -This he applied to his shoes with a blacking-brush, rubbing vigorously -until quite a decent gloss appeared. It was a thing poverty had taught -him just after the war, and to which he still resorted when he forgot to -buy blacking. - -On his way to church, as he was crossing a broom-sedge field and -steering for the wood ahead of him, through which a path made a short -cut to Rock Crest Church, he overtook Pole Baker swinging along in his -shirt-sleeves and big hat. - -"Well, I 'll be bungfuzzled," Abner exclaimed, "ef you hain't got on a -clean shirt! Church?" - -"Yes, I 'lowed I would, Uncle Ab. I couldn't stay away. I told Sally it -ud be the biggest fun on earth. She's a-comin' on as soon as she gits -the childern ready. She's excited, too, an' wants to see how it 'll come -out. She's as big a believer in you as I am, mighty nigh, an' she -'lowed, she did, that she'd bet you'd take hair an' hide off'n that gang -'fore they got good started." - -Abner raised his shaggy eyebrows. If this was one of Pole's jokes it -failed in the directness that usually characterized the jests of the -ex-moonshiner. - -"I wonder what yo' re a-drivin' at, you blamed fool," he said, smiling -in a puzzled fashion. - -Pole was walking in front, and suddenly wheeled about. He took off -his hat, and, wiping the perspiration from his high brow with his -forefinger, he cracked it into the broom-sedge like a whip. - -"Looky' heer, Uncle Ab," he laughed, "what you givin' me?" - -"I was jest tryin' to find out what you was a-givin' me," retorted the -rural philosopher, a dry note of rising curiosity dominating his voice. - -They had reached a rail fence which separated the field from the wood, -and they climbed over it and stood in the shade of the trees. Pole -stared at the old man incredulously. "By hunkley, Uncle Ab, you don't -mean to tell me you don't know what that passle o' hill-Billies is -a-goin' to do with you this mornin' at meetin'?" - -Abner smiled mechanically. "I can't say I do, Pole. I'm at the fust of -it, if thar is to be any--" - -Pole slapped his thigh and gave vent to a loud guffaw that rang through -the trees and was echoed back from a hidden hill-side. - -"Well, what they _are_ a-goin' to do with you 'll be a God's plenty. -They are a-goin' to walk yore log, ur make you do it on all fours so -they kin see you. You've made it hot fer them an' they are a-goin' to -turn t'other cheek an' git a swipe at you. They are a-goin' to show you -whar you come in--ur, ruther, whar you go out." - -Abner's face was a study in seriousness. "You don't say!" he muttered. -"I _did_ notice that brother Dole kinder give our house a wide berth -last night. I reckon he sorter hated to eat at the same table with a -feller he was goin' to hit at to-day. Yes, Dole is at the bottom of it. -I know in reason I pushed 'im too fur the last time he was heer, but -when he rears back an' coughs up sanctimony like he was literally too -full of it fer comfort, I jest cayn't hold in. Seems to me I kin jest -close my eyes an' hit some spot in 'im that makes 'im wiggle like a -tadpole skeered in shallow water. But maybe I mought 'a' got a better -mark to fire at; fer this 'll raise no end of a rumpus, an' they may -try to make me take back water, but I never did crawfish. I couldn't do -that, Pole. No siree, I--I can' t crawfish." - -Abner was a special object of regard as he and Pole emerged from the -wood into the opening in front of the little unpainted meeting-house, -where the men stood about among the buggies and horses, whittling, -gossiping, and looking strange and fresh-washed in their clean clothes. -But it was noticeable that they did not gather around him as had been -their habit. His standing in that religious community was at stake; his -continued popularity depended on the result of that day's investigation. -Pole could afford to stand by him, and he did. They sat down on a log -near the church door and remained silent till the cast-iron bell in the -little belfry, which resembled a dog-kennel, was rattled vigorously as -an announcement that the service was about to begin. They all scurried -in like sheep. Abner went in last, with slow dignity and deliberation, -leaving Pole in a seat near the door. - -He went up the narrow aisle to his accustomed seat near the long-wood -stove. Many eyes were on his profile and the back of his neck. Dole -was seated in the arm-chair behind the preacher's stand, but somehow he -failed to look at Abner as he entered, or even after he had taken his -seat. He seemed busy making notes from the big Bible which lay across -his lap. Abner saw Bishop and his wife come in and sit down, and knew -from the glances they gave him that they had heard the news. Mrs. Bishop -looked keenly distressed, but Bishop seemed to regard the matter only as -a small, buzzing incident in his own troubled career. Besides, Abner was -no blood relative of his, and Bishop had enough to occupy him in looking -after the material interests of his own family without bothering about -the spiritual welfare of a connection by marriage. - -Dole stood up and announced a hymn, and read it from beginning to end -in a mellow, sonorous voice. The congregation, all eying Abner, rose and -sang it energetically; even Abner, who sang a fair bass of the rasping, -guttural variety, popular in the mountains, found himself joining in, -quite unconcerned as to his future right to do so. After this, Dole -led in prayer, standing with both hands resting on the crude, unpainted -stand, the sole ornament of which was a pitcher of water, a tumbler, and -a glass lamp with a green paper shade on it. Abner remarked afterwards -that Dole, in this prayer, used the Lord as a cat's-paw to hit at him. -Dole told the Lord a few things that he had never had the courage to -tell Daniel. Abner was a black sheep in a flock earnestly striving to -keep itself white--a thing in human shape that soiled that with which -it came in contact. He had the subtle tongue of the serpent that blasted -the happiness of the primeval pair in the Garden of Eden. Under the -cloak of wit and wisdom he was continually dropping poison into the -beverages of earnest folk who had not the religious courage to close -their ears. As a member of a consecrated body of souls, it was the -opinion of many that Abner was out of place, but that was to be decided -after careful investigation in the Lord's presence and after ample -testimony pro and con had been submitted. Any one wishing to show that -the offending member had a right to remain in good standing would be -gladly listened to, even prayerfully. On the other hand, such members -as had had their religious sensibilities wounded should feel that a most -sacred duty rested on them to speak their minds. All this Dole said he -trusted the Lord would sanction and bless in the name of the Lord Jesus -Christ, the Saviour and Director of all men. - -Dole then started another hymn, and when it had been sung he announced -that no sermon would be preached that day, as the important business in -hand would consume all available time before the dinner-hour. Then he -courageously faced Abner. His countenance was pale and determined, -his tone perfunctory and sharp as a knife. - -"I reckon, brother Daniel," he said, "that you have a idee who I've been -talkin' about?" - -Abner was slightly pale, but calm and self-possessed. The light of -merriment, always kindled by contact with Dole, danced in his eyes. "I -kinder 'lowed I was the one," he said, slowly, "an' I'm sorter curis -to see who' ll speak an' what they 'll say. I 'll tell you now I ain't -a-goin' to do myse'f jestice. I 'ain't been to a debatin' club sence I -was a boy, but I 'll do my best." - -Dole stroked his beard and consulted a scrap of paper in the palm of his -hand. "Brother Throg-martin," he called out, suddenly, and a short, fat -man on a bench behind Abner rose and cleared his throat. - -"Now, brother Throgmartin," went on the preacher, "jest tell some o' -the things you've heerd brother Daniel say that struck you as bein' -undoctrinal an' unbecomin' a member of this body." - -"Well, sir," Throgmartin began, in a thin, high voice that cut the -profound silence in the room like a rusty blade, "I don't raily, in -my heart o' hearts, believe that Ab--brother Daniel--has the right -interpretation of Scriptur'. I remember, after you preached last -summer about the sacred teachin' in regard to future punishment, that -Ab--brother Daniel--an' me was walkin' home together. Ever' now an' then -he'd stop in the road an' laugh right out sudden-like over what you'd -contended." - -"Oh, he did, did he?" Dole's face hardened. He couldn't doubt that part -of the testimony, for it was distinctly Abner's method. - -"Yes, sir," responded Throgmartin, sternly, "he 'lowed what you'd said -was as funny to him as a circus clown's talk, an' that it was all he -could do to hold in. He 'lowed ef you was to git up in a Darley church -with sech talk as that they'd make you preach to niggers. He 'lowed he -didn't believe hell was any hot place nohow, an' that he never could -be made to believe that the Lord ud create folks an' then barbecue 'em -alive through all eternity. He said it sorter turned his stomach to see -jest a little lamb roasted at a big political gatherin', an' that no God -he believed in would institute sech long torture as you spoke about when -you brought up the mustard-seed p'int." - -"He deliberately gives the lie to Holy Scripture, then," said Dole, -almost beside himself with rage. "What else did he say of a blasphemous -nature?" - -"Oh, I hardly know," hesitated the witness, his brow wrinkled -thoughtfully. - -"Well," snarled Dole, "you hain't told half you said to me this mornin' -on the way to meetin'. What was his remark about the stars havin' people -on 'em ever' bit an' grain as worthy o' salvation as us all?" - -"I disremember his exact words. Perhaps Ab--brother Daniel--will refresh -my memory." Throg-martin was gazing quite respectfully at the offender. -"It was at Billy Malone's log-rollin', you know, Ab; me 'n' you'd eat a -snack together, an' you said the big poplar had strained yore side an' -wanted to git it rubbed." - -Abner looked straight at Dole. The corners of his big, honest mouth were -twitching defiantly. - -"I said, I think," he answered, "that no matter what some folks mought -believe about the starry heavens, no man ever diskivered a big world -with a tail to it through a spy-glass without bein' convinced that thar -was other globes in the business besides jest this un." - -Dole drew himself up straight and gazed broadly over his congregation. -He felt that in the estimation of unimaginative, prosaic people like his -flock Abner's defence would certainly fall. - -"Kin I ax," he asked, sternly, "how you happen to think like you do?" - -Abner grasped the back of the bench in front of him and pulled himself -up, only to sink back hesitatingly into his seat. "Would it be out o' -order fer me to stand?" he questioned. - -Dole spread a hard, triumphant smile over the congregation. "Not at all, -if it will help you to give a sensible answer to my question." - -"Oh, I kin talk settin'," retorted the man on trial. "I jest didn't know -what was right an' proper, an' I 'lowed I could hit that spit-box better -standin' than I kin over brother Tarver's legs." - -The man referred to quickly slid along the bench, giving Abner his place -near the aisle, and Abner calmly emptied his mouth in the wooden box -filled with sawdust and wiped his lips. - -"I hardly know why I think like I do about other worlds," he answered, -slowly, "unless it's beca'se I've always had the notion that the -universe is sech a powerful, whoppin' big thing. Most folks believe that -the spot they inhabit is about all thar is to creation, anyway. That's -human natur'. About the biggest job I ever tackled was to drive a hungry -cow from bad grass into a good patch. She wants to stay thar an' eat, -an' that's about the way it is with folks. They are short-sighted. It -makes most of 'em mad to tell 'em they kin better the'r condition. I've -always believed that's the reason they make the bad place out so bad; -they've made up the'r minds to live thar, an' they ain't a-goin' to -misrepresent it. They are out o' fire-wood in this life an' want to have -a good sweat in the next." - - - - -XIV - - -[Illustration: 9115] - -T looked as if Dole thought he could get down to the matter better out -of the pulpit, so he descended the steps on the side near Abner, and -stood on the floor inside the altar railing. - -"We didn't assemble heer to argue with brother Daniel," he informed the -congregation, "fer that's evidently jest what he'd like. It would be -raily kind of you all to consider what he's jest said as the product of -a weak brain ruther 'n a bad heart. Brother Throgmartin, have you any -other charges to prefer agin brother Daniel?" Dole looked as if he had -already been apprised of the extent of the witness's testimony. - -"That's all I keer to say," replied the man addressed, and he coughed. - -Dole consulted the scrap of paper in his hand, and while he did so Abner -stole a glance at Bishop and his wife. Mrs. Bishop had her handkerchief -to her eyes as if she were crying, and her husband's face wore the -impatient look of a man detained by trivialities. - -"Brother Daniel," the preacher began, suddenly, "charges has been -preferred agin you on the score that you are a profane man. What have -you got to say on that line?" - -Abner bent his head and spat down into the hopper-shaped box in the -aisle. - -"I hardly know, brother Dole," he said. "It's all owin' to what -profanity is an' what it hain't. I don't know that I ever used but one -word out o' the general run, an' that is 'dem.' I don't believe thar's -any more harm in sayin' 'dem' than 'scat,' ur gruntin' when thar's no -absolute call fer it. I don't know as anybody knows what it means. -I don't. I've axed a number o' times, but nobody could tell me, so I -knowed it wasn't patented anyway. Fer a long time I 'lowed nobody used -it but me. I met a feller from up in Yankeedom that said 'darn,' an' -another from out West that said 'dang,' so I reckon they are all three -in a bunch." - -At this juncture some one in the rear of the church laughed out, and the -entire congregation turned its head. It was Pole Baker. He was red in -the face, had his big hand pressed tightly over his mouth, and was bent -over the bench towards the open doorway. Abner's eyes sparkled with -appreciative merriment as he saw him, but he did not permit himself -to smile. Dole could not hide his irritation, for Pole's unalloyed -enjoyment had communicated itself to some of the less rigid members, -and he felt that the reply which was stinging his tongue would fall less -forcefully than if the incident hadn't happened. - -He held up his hand to invoke silence and respect. "I believe such a -word, to say the least, is unbecoming in a Christian, and I think the -membership will back me up in it." - -"I don't look at it that away," argued Abner. "I'd be above takin' the -Lord's name in vain, but a little word that nobody cayn't find no fault -with or tell its origin shorely is different." - -"Well, that 'll be a matter to decide by vote." - -Dole paused a moment and then introduced another topic. - -"A report has gone round among the members that you said that red-handed -murderer who killed a man over in Fannin' an' was hung, an' passed -on without a single prayer fer pardon to his Maker--that he'd stand -a chance fer redemption. In all my experience I've never heerd sech a -dangerous doctrin' as that, brother Daniel--never, as I myself hope to -be redeemed." - -"I said he'd have a chance--I _thought_," said Abner. "I reckon I must -'a' got that idee from what Jesus said to the thief on the cross. You -see, brother Dole, I believe the Almighty gives us all equal chances, -an' I don't believe that feller in Fannin' had as good a opportunity to -git his heart saftened as the feller did that was dyin' right alongside -o' the great Redeemer o' the world. Nobody spoke a kind word to the -Fannin' man; on the contrary, they was hootin' an' spittin' at 'im night -an' day, an' they say the man he killed had pestered 'im all his life. -Scriptur' says we ort to forgive a man seventy times seven, an' that -is four hundred an' ninety. Why they didn't make it even five hundred -I never could tell. An' yet you-uns try to make folks believe the Lord -that made us, frail as we are an' prone to sin, won't forgive us once -ef we happen to die sudden. Shucks! that doctrine won't hold water; it's -hide-bound an' won't stretch one bit. It seems to me that the trouble -with yore--" - -"We haven't time to listen to a speech on the subject," interrupted the -preacher, whose anger was inflamed by hearing Pole Baker sniggering. "If -thar is anybody else that has anything to say we'd be glad to hear from -'em." - -Then Mrs. Bishop rose, wiping her eyes. She was pale and deeply -agitated. "I jest want to ax you all to be lenient with my pore -brother," she began, her thin voice cracking under its strain. "I've -predicted that he'd bring disrepute down on us with his ready tongue an' -odd notions. I've tried an' tried to stop 'im, but it didn't do a bit o' -good." - -"It's very good of you to speak in his behalf," said Dole, as she sank -back into her seat. "I'm sure the membership will do its duty, sister -Bishop." - -Then a little, meanly clad man behind Daniel stood up. It was Jasper -Marmaduke, a ne 'er-do-well farmer, who had a large family, few friends, -and no earthly possessions. He was greatly excited, and as white as if -he were on trial for his life. - -"I ain't no member," he began. "I know I ort to be, but I hain't. I -don't know whether a outsider's got a right to chip into this or not, -but it seems to me I 'll bu'st wide open ef I don't git up heer an' say -as loud as I kin holler that Abner Daniel's the best man I ever seed, -knowed, ur heerd tell of." Tears were on the man's face and his voice -shook with emotion. "He's fetched food an' medicine over to my folks an' -run after a doctor when all the rest o' humanity had turned the'r backs -on us. He made me promise not to cheep it to a soul, but I'm a-goin' to -tell it--tell it, ef he never speaks to me agin. I ain't no godly man, -an' this thing's makin' me so mad I feel like throwin' rocks!" And with -a sob bursting from him, Marmaduke strode from the church with a loud -clatter of his untied shoes. - -"Good! Good man!" spoke up Pole Baker, impulsively, unconscious of where -he was. "Jas', yo're the right stuff." And then, in the dead silence -that followed his ejaculation, Pole realized what he had said and -lowered his head in red embarrassment, for Dole's fierce eyes were -bearing down on him. The preacher's pent-up wrath burst; he was really -more infuriated at the man who had just left the church, but he had to -make an example of some one, and Pole had laid himself open to attack. - -"This is no place fer rowdies," he snarled. "That outlaw back thar who -has been continually disturbing these proceedings ort to be jailed. He's -undertakin' to bring his violations of decency into the very house of -God." - -A vast surprise clutched the congregation, who, knowing Pole, scented -trouble. And Pole did not disappoint them. With his flabby hat in his -brawny grasp, Pole stood up, but his wife, who sat on the women's side -across the aisle from him with her three eldest children, stepped to -him and drew him back in his seat, sitting by him and whispering -imploringly. Dole stared fiercely for a moment, and then, seeing that -the disturbance was over, he shrugged his broad shoulders and applied -himself to the business in hand. - -"Is thar anybody else pro or con that ud like to be heerd?" - -It was the widow Pellham, sitting well towards the front, who now rose. -"I feel like Jas' Marmaduke does," she began, falteringly. Her hearers -could not see her face, for she wore a black calico sunbonnet, and it -was tilted downward. "I believe I 'll be committin' of a grievous sin ef -I let my natural back'ard-ness keep me quiet. Abner Daniel was the fust, -last, an' only pusson that made me see the true way into God's blessed -sunshine out o' the pitch-black darkness that was over me. All of you, -especially them livin' nigh me, knowed how I acted when my daughter Mary -died. We'd lived together sence she was born, an' after her pa passed -away she was all I had. Then God up an' tuck 'er. I tell you it made a -devil out'n me. I liter'ly cussed my Maker an' swore revenge agin 'Im. -I quit meetin' an' closed my door agin my neighbors. They all tried to -show me whar I was wrong, but I wouldn't listen. Some nights I set up -from dark till daylight without candle or fire, bemeanin' my God fer the -way He'd done me. You remember, brother Dole, that you come a time or -two an' prayed an' read, but I didn't budge out'n my cheer an' wouldn't -bend a knee. Then that other little preacher, that was learnin' to -preach, an' tuck yore place when you went off to bury yore mother--he -come an' made a set at me, but every word he said made me wuss. I -ordered _him_ off the hill, an' told 'im ef he appeared agin I'd set my -dog on 'im. I don't know why everybody made me so mad, but they did. The -devil had me by the leg, an' was a-drag-gin' me as fast to his hole as -a dog kin trot. But one mornin' Abner Daniel come over with that thar -devilish twinkle in his eyes that ud make a cow laugh, an' begun to -banter me to sell 'im the hay off'n my little neck o' land betwixt the -creek an' the road. I kept tellin' 'im I didn't want to sell, but he -kept a-com-in' an' a comin', with no end o' fool talk about this un an' -that un, tell somehow I got to watchin' fer 'im, but still I wouldn't -let nobody else in. Then one day, after I'd refused to sell an' told -'im I'd _give_ 'im the hay, he growed serious an' said, ses he: 'Sister -Pellham, I don't want the hay on that patch. I've been deliberately -lyin'. I've been comin' over heer as a friend, to try to make you feel -better.' Then he set in, an', as God is my highest judge, ef thar 'll -be any more speritual talk on t'other shore it 'll be after Abner Daniel -gits thar. He jest rolled me about in his hands like a piece o' wheat -dough. He showed me what aileded me as plain as I could p'int out the -top o' old Bald Mountain to you on a cleer day. He told me, I remember, -that in grievin' like I was, I was sinnin' agin the Holy Ghost, an' jest -as long as I did it I'd suffer wuss an' wuss as a penalty. He said it -was a fight betwixt me an' my Maker an' that I was bound to be worsted. -He said that when my Mary come into the world I couldn't tell whar -she was from, nur why the Lord had fetched 'er, but I was jest pleased -beca'se it suited me to be pleased, but, ses he, when she went back into -the great mystery o' God's beautiful plan I wasn't satisfied beca'se it -didn't suit me to be. He said it was downright selfishness, that had -no part nur parcel in the kingdom o' heaven. He said to me, ses he, -'Sister, ef you 'll jest fer one minute make up yore mind that Mary is in -better hands 'an she was in yor'n '--an' you kin bet yore bottom dollar -she is--'you 'll feel as light as a feather. 'I had a tussle, but it -come, God bless him! it come. It was jest like a great light had bu'sted -over me. I fell down on my knees before 'im an' shouted an' shouted till -I was as limp as a wet rag. I had always thought I was converted away -back in the sixties when I was a gal, but I wasn't. I got my redemption -that day under Abner Daniel's talk, an' I shall bless 'im an' sing his -name on my dyin' bed. I don't want to entertain no spiteful feelin' s, -but ef he goes out I 'll have to. I wouldn't feel right in no church too -puore to fellowship with Abner Daniel." - -"Good! Good woman!" shouted Pole Baker, as if he were at a political -speaking. She sat down. The house seemed profoundly moved. People were -thinking of the good things they had heard about Abner Daniel. However, -the turn of affairs did not suit Dole, who showed decided anger. His -eyes flashed as they rested on Pole Baker, who had offended him again. - -"I shall have to ax that law-breaker back thar to leave the church," -he said. "I think it's come to a purty pass ef strong, able-bodied -church-members will set still an' allow the'r own house o' worship to be -insulted by such a rascal as that one." - -Pole rose; many thought he was going to leave, but to the surprise of -all he walked deliberately up to the altar and laid his hand upon the -railing. - -"Looky' heer," he said, "they call you the fightin' preacher. They say -you believe in hittin' back when yo' re hit. I'm heer to show you that -ef I am a outlaw I ain't afeerd o' you, an' I ain't a-goin' to be -abused by you when you are under the cloak o' this meetin'. When you -say some 'n' you think is purty good you wink at some brother in -the amen-corner an' he yells 'Amen 'loud enough to be heerd to the -cross-roads. Then you go on as if nothin' had happened. What I said back -thar was jest my way o' sayin' amen. Little Jas' Marmaduke hit you in a -weak spot; so did what Mis' Pellham said, an' yo' re tryin' to take yore -spite out on me. That won't work. I come heer to see fair play, an' I'm -a-goin' to do it. Uncle Ab's a good man an' I'm heer to testify to it. -He's come nigher--him an' Alan Bishop, that's a chip off'n 'im--to turn -me into the right way than all the shoutin'-bees I ever attended, an' -I've been to as many as thar are hairs on my head. I ain't bald, nuther. -Now ef you want to have it out with me jest wait an' meet me outside, -whar we 'll both have fair play." - -Dole was quivering with rage. "I kin whip a dozen dirty scoundrels like -you," he panted. "Men like you insult ministers, thinking they won't -fight, but after meetin' I 'll simply wipe up the ground with you." - -"All right, 'nough said!" and Pole sat down. There was silence for a -moment. Dole's furious panting could be heard all over the room. -Then Abner Daniel rose. A vast change had come over him. The light of -quizzical merriment had faded from his face; nothing lay there except -the shadows of deepest regret. "I've been wrong--wrong--_wrong!_" he -said, loudly. "I'm dead wrong, ur Pole Baker never would 'a' wanted to -fight, an' brother Dole wouldn't 'a' been driv' to lose his temper in -the pulpit. I'm at the bottom o' all this rumpus that has kept you all -from listenin' to a good sermon. You've not found me hard to git along -with when I see my error, an' I promise that I 'll try from this day on -to keep from shovin' my notions on folks that ain't ready fer 'em. I want -to stay in the church. I think every sane man an' woman kin do good in a -church, an' I want to stay in this un." - -The confession was so unexpected, and furnished Dole with such an easy -loop-hole for gracefully retiring from a most unpleasant predicament, -that he actually beamed on the speaker. - -"I don't think any more need be said," he smiled. "Brother Daniel has -shown himself willing to do the right thing, an' I propose that -the charges be dropped." Thereupon a vote was taken, and it went -overwhelmingly in Abner's favor. After the benediction, which followed -immediately, Pole Baker hurried across to Daniel. "I declare, you make -me sick, Uncle Ab," he grumbled. "What on earth did you mean by takin' -back-water? You had 'im whar the wool was short; he was white at the -gills. You could 'a' mauled the life out'n 'im. Ef I'd--" - -But Abner, smiling indulgently, had a watchful eye on Dole, and was -moving forward to shake the preacher's outstretched hand. - -"Well, I 'll be damned!" Pole grunted, half aloud and in high disgust, as -he pushed his way through the crowd to the door. - -Abner found him waiting for him near the hitch-ing-post, where he had -been to untie Bishop's horse. - -"I reckon," he said, "bein' as you got so mighty good yorese'f, 'at you -think I acted wrong." - -"Not any wuss'n I did, Pole," replied the old man, seriously. "My advice -to you is to go to Dole an' tell 'im you are sorry." - -"Sorry hell!" - -"It ud be better fer you," half smiled Abner. "Ef you don't, some o' -them hill-Billies 'll make a case at court agin you fer disturbin' -public worship. Before a grand jury o' mossbacks a man with yore record -ud not stand any better chance o' comin' cleer 'n a old bird-nest ud -o' makin' good soup. When you was a-runnin' of yore still it made you -powerful mad to have revenue men after you, didn't it? Well, this heer -shebang is Dole's still, my boy, whar he claims to make good sperits -out'n bad material, an' he's got a license, which is more 'n you could -'a' said." - -"I reckon yo' re right," said Pole. "I 'll wait fer 'im." - - - - -XV - - -[Illustration: 9125] - -N the middle of the following week some of the young people of Darley -gave a picnic at Morley's Spring, a beautiful and picturesque spot about -a mile below Bishop's farm. Alan had received an urgent invitation to -join the party, and he rode down after dinner. - -It was a hot afternoon, and the party of a dozen couples had scattered -in all directions in search of cool, shady nooks. Alan was by no means -sure that Miss Barclay would be there, but, if the truth must be told, -he went solely with the hope of at least getting another look at her. He -was more than agreeably surprised, for, just as he had hitched his horse -to a hanging bow of an oak near the spring, Frank Hillhouse came -from the tangle of wild vines and underbrush on a little hill-side and -approached him. - -"You are just the fellow I'm looking for," said Frank. "Miss Dolly's -over there in a hammock, and I want to leave somebody with her. Old man -Morley promised me the biggest watermelon in his patch if I'd come over -for it. I won't be long." - -"Oh, I don't care how long you are," smiled Alan. "You can stay all day -if you want to." - -"I thought you wouldn't mind," grinned Frank. "I used to think you were -the one man I had to fight, but I reckon I was mistaken. A feller in -love imagines everybody in creation is against him." - -Alan made no reply to this, but hurried away to where Dolly sat, a new -magazine in her hands and a box of candies on the grass at her feet. -"I saw you riding down the hill," she said, with a pretty flush and no -little excitement. "To tell the truth, I sent Frank after the melon when -I recognized you. He's been threatening to go all the afternoon, but I -insisted on it. You may be surprised, but I have a business message for -you, and I would have made Frank drive me past your house on the way -home if you hadn't come." - -"Business," Alan laughed, merrily; he felt very happy in her presence -under all her assurances of welcome. "The idea of your having a business -message! That's really funny." - -"Well, that's what it is; sit down." She made room for him in the -hammock, and he sat beside her, his foolish brain in a whirl. "Why, yes, -it is business; and it concerns you. I fancy it is important; anyway, it -may take you to town to-night." - -"You don't mean it," he laughed. She looked very pretty, in her light -organdie gown and big rustic hat, with its wide, flowing ribbons. - -"Yes, it is a message from Rayburn Miller, about that railroad idea of -yours." - -"Really? Then he told you about that?" - -"Yes; he was down to see me last week. He didn't seem to think much -of it then--but"--she hesitated and smiled, as if over the memory of -something amusing--"he's been thinking of it since. As Frank and I drove -through the main street this morning--Frank had gone in a store to get -a basket of fruit--he came to me on his way to the train for Atlanta. He -hadn't time to say much, but he said if you were out here to-day to -tell you to come in town to-night without fail, so as to meet him at -his office early in the morning. He 'll be back on the midnight train. I -asked him if it was about the railroad, and he said it was--that he had -discovered something that looked encouraging." - -"I'm glad of that," said Alan, a thrill of excitement passing over him. -"Rayburn threw cold water on my ideas the other day, and--" - -"I know he did, and it was a shame," said Dolly, warmly. "The idea of -his thinking he is the only man in Georgia with originality! Anyway, I -hope it will come to something." - -"I certainly do," responded Alan. "It's the only thing I could think of -to help my people, and I am willing to stake all I have on it--which is, -after all, nothing but time and energy." - -"Well, don't you let him nor any one else discourage you," said the -girl, her eyes flashing. "A man who listens to other people and puts his -own ideas aside is unworthy of the brain God gave him. There is another -thing"--her voice sank lower and her eyes sought the ground. "Rayburn -Miller is a fine, allround man, but he is not perfect by any means. He -talks freely to me, you know; he's known me since I was knee-high. Well, -he told me--he told me of the talk he had with you at the dance that -night. Oh, that hurt me--hurt me!" - -"He told you that!" exclaimed Alan, in surprise. "Yes, and it actually -disgusted me. Does he think all men ought to act on that sort of advice? -He might, for he has made an unnatural man of himself, with all his -fancies for new faces; but you are not that kind, Alan, and I'm sorry -you and he are so intimate--not that he can influence you _much_, but he -has already, _in a way_, and that has pained me deeply." - -"He has influenced me?" cried Alan, in surprise. "I think you are -mistaken." - -"You may not realize it, but he has," said Dolly, with gentle and yet -unyielding earnestness. "You see, you are so very sensitive that it -would not be hard to make you believe that a young man ought not to keep -on caring for a girl whose parents object to his attentions." - -"Ah!" He had caught her drift. - -There was a pause. At the foot of the hill a little brook ran merrily -over the water-browned stones, and its monotonous lapping could be heard -distinctly. Under the trees across the open some of the couples had -drawn together and were singing: - - "I see the boat go 'round the bend, - - Good-bye, my lover, good-bye." - -Dolly had said exactly what he had never hoped to hear her say, and the -fact of her broaching such a subject in such a frank, determined way -sent a glow of happiness all over him. - -"I don't think," he began, thoughtfully, "that Rayburn or any man could -keep me from"--he looked into her full, expectant eyes, and then plunged -madly--"could keep me from caring for you, from loving you with all my -heart, Dolly; but it really is a terrible thing to know that you are -robbing a girl of not only the love of her parents but her rightful -inheritance, when, when"--he hurried on, seeing that an impulse to speak -was urging her to protest--"when you haven't a cent to your name, and, -moreover, have a black eye from your father's mistakes." - -"I knew that's what he'd said!" declared the girl, almost white with -anger. "I knew it! Oh, Alan, Rayburn Miller might be able to draw back -and leave a girl at such a time, but no man could that truly loves -as--as I believe you love me. I have known how you have felt all this -time, and it has nearly broken my heart, but I could not write to you -when you had never even told me, what you have to-day. You must not let -anybody or anything influence you, Alan. I'd rather be a poor man' s -wife, and do my own work, than let a paltry thing like my father's money -keep me from standing by the man I love." - -Alan' s face was ablaze. He drew himself up and gazed at her, all his -soul in his eyes. "Then I shall not give you up," he declared; "not for -anything in the world. And if there is a chance in the railroad idea I -shall work at it ten times as hard, now that I have talked with you." - -They sat together in blissful ignorance of the passage of time, -till some one shouted out that Frank Hill-house was coming with the -watermelon. Then all the couples in sight or hearing ran to the spring, -where Hillhouse could be seen plunging the big melon into the water. -Hattie Alexander and Charlie Durant, who had been perched on a jutting -bowlder high up on the hill behind Dolly and Alan, came half running, -half sliding down, catching at the trees to keep from falling. - -"Better come get your teeth in that melon," Hattie said, with a knowing -smile at Dolly. They lived next door to each other and were quite -intimate. - -"Come on, Alan." Dolly rose. "Frank will never forgive me if I don't -have some." - -"I sha 'n' t have time, if I go to town to-night," replied Alan. "I have -something to do at home first." - -"Then I won't keep you," Dolly smiled, "for you must go and meet Rayburn -Miller. I'm going to hope that he has had good luck in Atlanta." - -The world had never seemed so full of joy and hope as Alan rode -homeward. The sun was setting in glorious splendor beyond the towering -mountains, above which the sky seemed an ocean of mother-of-pearl and -liquid gold. Truly it was good to be alive. At the bars he met Abner -Daniel with a fishing-cane in his hands, his bait-gourd under his arm. - -"I know right whar you've been," he said, with a broad smile, as he -threw down the bars for Alan to pass through. "I seed that gang drive -by in all the'r flurry this mornin', the queen bee in the lead with that -little makeshift of a man." - -Alan dismounted to prevent his uncle from putting up the bars, and they -walked homeward side by side. - -"Yes, and I've had the time of my life," said the young man. "I talked -to her for a solid hour." - -"I could see that in yore face," said Abner, quietly. "You couldn't hide -it, an' I 'll bet she didn't lose time in lettin' you know what she never -could hide from me." - -"We understand each other better now," admitted Alan. - -"Well, I've certainly set my heart on the match--on gittin' her in our -family," affirmed Abner. "Durn-ed ef--I declare, sometimes I'm afeerd -I'm gone on 'er myse'f. Yes, I want you 'n' her to make it. I want to -set an' smoke an' chaw on yore front porch, an' heer her back in the -kitchen fryin' ham an' eggs, an'," the old man winked, "I don't know -as I'd object to trottin' some 'n' on my knee, to sorter pass the time -betwixt meals." - -"Oh, come off, Uncle Ab!" said Alan, with a flush, "that's going too -far." - -The old man whisked his bait-gourd round under his other arm. His eyes -twinkled, and he chuckled. "'Tain' t goin' as fur as havin' one on each -knee an' both pine blank alike an' exactly the same age. I've knowed -that to happen in my day an' time, when nobody wasn't even lookin' fer -a' increase." - - - - -XVI - - -[Illustration: 9131] - -ATTIE ALEXANDER and Charlie Durant reached home before Dolly and -Hillhouse, and as Dolly alighted from the buggy at the front gate and -was going up the flower-bordered walk Hattie came to the side fence and -called out: - -"Oh, Dolly, come here quick; I've got some 'n' to tell you." - -"Well, wait till I get my hat off," answered Dolly. - -"No, I can't wait; come on, or you 'll wish you had." - -"What is it, goosie?" Dolly smiled, as she tripped across the grass, her -face flushed from her rapid drive. - -"Doll, darling, I've got you in an _awful_ scrape. I know you 'll never -forgive me, but I couldn't help it. When Charlie left me at the gate -mother come out and asked me all about the picnic, who was there an' who -talked to who, and all about it. Among other things I told her about you -and Alan getting together for such a nice, long talk, and--" - -"Oh, I don't mind her," broke in Dolly, as she reached for the skirt of -her gown to rescue it from the dew on the high grass. - -"Wait, wait; I'm not through by a jugful," panted Hattie. "Just then -your pa came along an' asked if you'd got home. I told him you hadn't, -an' then he up and asked me if Alan Bishop was out there. I had to say -yes, of course, for you know how strict mother is about telling a fib, -and then what do you think he did? He come right out plain and asked -if Alan talked to you by yourself. I didn't know what on earth to do. -I reckon I actually turned white, and then mother chipped in and said: -'Tell the truth, daughter; a story never mends matters; besides, Colonel -Barclay, you must be more reasonable; young folks will be young folks, -and Alan Bishop would be my choice if I was picking out a husband for my -girl.' And then you ought to have heard your pa snort; it was as loud as -a horse kicking up his heels in the lot. He wheeled round an' made for -the house like he was shot out of a gun." - -"I reckon he 'll raise the very Old Harry," opined Dolly, grimly. "But I -don't care; he's driven me about as far as he can." - -"I wouldn't make him any madder," advised the innocent mischief-maker, -with a doleful expression. "It's all my fault. I--" - -"No, it wasn't," declared Dolly. "But he can't run over me with his -unreasonable ideas about Alan Bishop." - -With that she turned and went towards the house, her head down. On the -veranda she met her mother, who was waiting for her with a pleasurable -smile. "You've stirred up yore pa awful," she said, laughing -impulsively, and then trying to veil it with a seriousness that sat -awkwardly on her. "You'd better dodge him right now. Oh, he's hot! He -was just saying this morning that he believed you and Frank were getting -on fine, and now he says Frank is an idiot to take a girl to a picnic to -meet his rival. How did it happen?" - -"Just as I intended it should, mother," Dolly said. "I knew he was -coming, and sent Frank off after a watermelon. He didn't have sense -enough to see through my ruse. If I'd treated Alan that way he'd simply -have looked straight through me as if I'd been a window-pane. Mother, -I'm not going to put up with it. I tell you I won't. I know what there -is in Alan Bishop better than father does, and I am not going to stand -it." - -"You ain't, heigh?" thundered Barclay across the hall, and he stalked -out of the sitting-room, looking over his eye-glasses, a newspaper in -his hand. "Now, my lady, let me say to you that Alan Bishop shall never -darken my door, and if you meet him again anywhere you shall go away and -stay." - -"Father "--Dolly had never stood so tall in her high-heeled shoes nor so -straight--"Father, you insulted Alan just now before Mrs. Alexander and -Hattie, and I'm not going to have you do it any more. I love him, and I -shall never love any other man, nor marry any other man. I know he loves -me, and I'm going to stick to him." - -"Then the quicker you get away from here the better," said the old man, -beside himself with rage. "And when you go, don't you dare to come back -again." - -The Colonel stalked from the room. Dolly glanced at her mother, who had -a pale smile of half-frightened enjoyment on her face. - -"I think you said 'most too much," Mrs. Barclay said. "You'd better not -drive him too far." - -Dolly went up to her room, and when supper was called, half an hour -later, she declined to come down. However, Mrs. Barclay sent up a tray -of delicacies by Aunt Milly, the old colored woman, which came back -untouched. - -It was the custom of the family to retire rather early at that season -of the year, and by half-past nine the house was dark and still. Mrs. -Barclay dropped to sleep quickly, but waked about one o' clock, and lay -unable to drift into unconsciousness again for the delightful pastime of -thinking over her daughter's love affair. She began to wonder if Dolly, -too, might not be awake, and the prospect of a midnight chat on that of -all topics made her pulse beat quickly. Slipping noiselessly out of bed, -so as not to wake her husband, who was snoring in his bed across the -room, she glided up-stairs. She had not been there a moment before the -Colonel was waked by a low scream from her, and then he heard her bare -feet thumping on the floor overhead as she crossed the hall into the -other rooms. She screamed out again, and the Colonel sprang up, grasped -his revolver, which always lay on the bureau, and ran into the hall. -There he met his wife, half sliding down the stairs. - -"Dolly's gone," she gasped. "Her bed hasn't been touched. Oh, Seth, do -you reckon anything has happened to her?" - -The old man stared in the dim light of the hall, and then turned towards -the door which opened on the back veranda. He said not a word, but was -breathing hard. The cabin of old Ned and his wife, Aunt Milly, was near -by. - -"Ned; oh, Ned!" called out the Colonel. - -"Yes, marster!" - -"Crawl out o' that bed and come heer!" - -"Yes, marster; I'm a-comin'." - -"Oh, Seth, do you reckon--do you--?" - -"Dry up, will you?" thundered Barclay. "Are you comin', Ned?" - -Uncle Ned's gray head was thrust out at the partly open door. - -"You want me, marster?" - -"Yes; what do you suppose I called you for if I didn't want you. Now I -don't want any lies from you. You know you can't fool me. I want to know -if you carried a note from this house to anybody since sundown." - -"A note must have been sent," ventured Mrs. Barclay, in an undertone. -"Dolly never would have gone to him. He must have been notified and come -after her." - -"Dry up, for God's sake!" yelled the Colonel over his shoulder to the -spectre by his side. "Answer me, you black rascal." - -"Marse Seth, young miss, she--" - -"She sent a note to Alan Bishop, didn't she?" interpolated the Colonel. - -"Marster, I didn't know it was any harm. I des 'lowed it was some prank -o' young miss'. Oh, Lordy!" - -"You might know you'd do suppen, you old sap-haid," broke in Aunt Milly -from the darkness of the cabin. "I kin count on you ever' time." - -"Get back in bed," ordered the Colonel, and he walked calmly into his -room and lay down again. His wife followed him, standing in the middle -of the room. - -"Aren't you going to do anything?" she said. Her voice was charged with -a blending of tears and a sort of feminine eagerness that is beyond the -comprehension of man. - -"Do anything? What do you think I ought to do? Raise an alarm, ring the -church-bells, and call out the hook-and-ladder company? Huh! She's made -her bed; let her lie on it." - -"You are heartless--you have no feeling," cried his wife. The very core -of her desire was to get him to talk about the matter. If he was not -going to rouse the neighborhood, and thus furnish some one to talk to, -he, at least, ought to be communicative. - -"Well, you'd better go to bed," snarled her husband. - -"No"--she scratched a match and lighted a candle--"I'm going up-stairs -and see if she left a note. Now, you see, _I_ had to think of that. The -poor girl may have written something." - -There did seem to be a vestige of reason in this, and the old man said -nothing against it, throwing himself back on his pillow with a stifled -groan. - -After about half an hour Mrs. Barclay came back; she stood over him, -holding the candle so that its best rays would fall on his face. - -"She didn't write one word," was her announcement. "I reckon she knew -we'd understand or find out from Uncle Ned. And just to think!"--Mrs. -Barclay now sat down on a chair across the back of which lay the -Colonel's trousers, holding the candle well to the right that she might -still see the rigid torture of his face--"just to think, she's only -taken the dress she had on at the picnic. It will be a poor wedding for -her, when she's always said she wanted a lot of bridesmaids and ushers -and decorations. Poor child! Maybe they had to drive into the country -to get somebody to marry them. I know brother Lapsley wouldn't do it -without letting us know. I reckon she 'll send the first thing in the -morning for her trunk, if--" Mrs. Barclay gazed more steadily--"if she -don't come herself." - -"Well, she needn't come herself," grunted the reclining figure as it -flounced under the sheets to turn its face to the wall. - -"You wouldn't be that hard on our only child, just because she--" - -"If you don't go to bed," the words rebounded from the white plastering -an inch from the speaker's lips, "you 'n' me 'll have a row. I've said -what I'd do, and I shall do it!" - -"Well, I'm going out to speak to Aunt Milly a minute," said Mrs. -Barclay, and, drawing on a thin graywrapper and sliding her bare feet -into a pair of slippers, she shuffled out to the back porch. - -"Come here, Aunt Milly," she called out, and she sat down on the highest -step and waited till the fat old woman, enveloped in a coarse gray -blanket, joined her. - -"Aunt Milly, did you ever hear the like?" she said. "She 'ain't made -off sho 'nough, have she, Miss Annie?" - -"Yes, she's gone an' done it; her pa drove her just a little too far. I -reckon she railly does love Alan Bishop, or thinks she does." - -"I could take a stick an' baste the life out'n Ned," growled the black -woman, leaning against the veranda post; she knew better than to sit -down in the presence of her mistress, even if her mistress had invited -her to talk. - -"Oh, he didn't know any better," said Mrs. Barclay. "He always -would trot his legs off for Dolly, and"--Mrs. Barclay's tone was -tentative--"it wouldn't surprise me if Alan Bishop paid him to help -to-night." - -"No, he didn't help, Miss Annie. Ned's been in bed ever since he come -back fum town des atter supper. He tol' me des now dat de young man was -in a room at de hotel playin' cyards wid some more boys an' he got up -an' writ Miss Dolly er note; but Ned went straight to bed when he got -home." - -"Then, Alan must have got her to meet him at the front gate, don't you -reckon? He didn't drive up to the house either, for I think I would have -heard the wheels. He must have left his turn-out at the corner." - -"Are you a-goin' to set there all night?" thundered the Colonel from his -bed. "How do you expect anybody to sleep with that low mumbling going -on, like a couple of dogs under the house?" - -Mrs. Barclay got up, with a soft, startled giggle. - -"He can' t sleep because he's bothered," she said, in a confidential -undertone. "We'd better go in. I don't want to nag him too far; it's -going hard with Dolly as it is. I'm curious to see if he really will -refuse to let her come back. Do you reckon he will, Milly?" - -"I sw'ar I don't know, Miss Annie," replied the dark human shape from -the depths of her blanket. "He sho is a caution, an' you kin see he's -tormented. I 'll bet Ned won't have a whole skin in de mornin'." - -The Colonel, despite his sullen effort to conceal the fact from his -wide-awake wife, slept very little during the remainder of that night, -and when he rose at the usual hour he went out to see his horse fed. - -Mrs. Barclay was fluttering from the dining-room to the kitchen, -gossiping with the cook, who had run out of anything to say on the -subject and could only grunt, "Yes'um, and no'um," according to the -reply she felt was expected. Aunt Milly was taking a plate of waffles -into the dining-room when a little negro boy, about five years of age, -the son of the cook at the Alexanders', crawled through a hole in the -fence between the two houses and sauntered towards the kitchen. On the -door-step he espied a black kitten that took his fancy and he caught it -and began to stroke it with his little black hand. - -"What you want _now?_" Aunt Milly hovered over him like an angry hen. -"Want ter borrow suppen, I boun' you; yo'-alls folks is de beatenes' -people ter borrow I ever lived alongst." - -The boy seemed to have forgotten his errand in his admiration for the -kitten. - -"What you atter now?" snarled Aunt Milly, "eggs, flour, sugar, salt, -pepper, flat-iron? Huh, we-all ain't keepin' er sto'." - -The boy looked up suddenly and drew his ideas together with a jerk. -"Miss Dolly, she say sen 'er Mother Hubbub wrappin' dress, hangin' on de -foot er her bed-post." - -"What?" gasped Aunt Milly, and, hearing the exclamation, Mrs. Barclay -came to the door and paused to listen. - -"Miss Dolly," repeated the boy, "she say sen 'er 'er wrappin' dress -off'n de foot-post er 'er bed; en, en, she say keep 'er two waffles hot -en, en dry--not sobby--en ter git 'er dat fresh cream fer 'er coffee in -'er lill pitcher whut she lef' in de ice-box." - -"Dolly? Dolly?" cried Mrs. Barclay. "You are surely mistaken, Pete. -Where did you see her?" - -"Over 't we-all's house," said the boy, grabbing the kitten which had -slid from his momentarily inattentive fingers. - -"Over 't yo'-all's house!" cried Milly, almost in a tone of horror, "en, -en is her husban' wid 'er?" - -The boy grinned contemptuously. - -"Huh, Miss Dolly ain't no married ooman--you know she ain't, huh! I -seh, married! Look heer"--to the kitten--"don't you scratch me, boy!" - -Mrs. Barclay bent over him greatly excited. "What was she doing over at -your house, Pete?" - -"Nothin' w'en I seed 'er 'cep'jest her en Miss Hattie lyin' in de bed -laughin' en car'yin' on." - -"Oh, Lordy!" Mrs. Barclay's eyes were riveted on Aunt Milly's beaming -face, "do you reckon--?" - -"She's slep 'over dar many times before now, Miss Annie," said Aunt -Milly, and she burst into a round, ringing laugh, her fat body shaking -like a mass of jelly. "She done it time en ergin--time en ergin." - -"Well, ain't that a purty mess?" said Mrs. Barclay, almost in a tone of -disappointment. "I 'll get the wrapper, Pete, and you tell her to put it -on and hurry over here as soon as she possibly can." - -A few minutes later Dolly came from the Alexander's and met her mother -at the gate. "Oh, Dolly," Mrs. Barclay cried, "you've got us in an awful -mess. We missed you about midnight and we thought--your father made Ned -acknowledge that he took a note to Alan Bishop from you, and we thought -you had gone off to get married. Your father's in an awful temper, -swearing you shall never--" - -Dolly tossed her head angrily. "Well, you needn't say I got you into it; -you did it yourselves and I don't care how much you suffer. I say! When -I go to get married it will not be that way, you can depend on it. Now, -I reckon, it will be all over town that--" - -"No, it needn't get out of the family," Mrs. Barclay assured her, in a -guilty tone of apology. "Your pa wouldn't let me raise any alarm. But -you _did_ send a note to Alan Bishop, Dolly." - -"Yes, I knew he was in town, and would be here to-day, and I simply -wrote him that father was angry at our seeing each other again and that -I hoped he would avoid meeting him just now--that was all." - -"Well, well, well." Mrs. Barclay hurried through the house and out to -where Barclay stood at the lot fence watching Ned curry his horse. - -"What do you reckon?" she gasped. "Dolly didn't go off at all; she just -went to spend the night with Hattie Alexander." - -His face changed its expression against his will; the blood flowed into -the pallor and a satisfied gleam shot from his half-closed eyes. He -turned from her, looking over the fence at the horse. - -"You're leavin' a splotch on that right hind leg," he said. "Are you -stone blind?" - -"I was gittin' roun' to it, marster," said the negro, looking his -surprise over such an unexpected reproof. "No; she just wrote Alan that -you was displeased at them getting together yesterday and advised him to -dodge you to-day while he is in town." - -"Well, he'd better!" said the Colonel, gruffly, as they walked towards -the house. "You tell her," he enjoined--"you tell her what I said when I -thought she _was_ gone. It will be a lesson to her. She can tell now how -I 'll do if she _does_ go against me in this matter." - -"I reckon you are glad she didn't run off," replied his wife -thoughtfully. "The Lord only knows what you'd do about writing your -letters without her help. I believe she knows more about your business -right now than you do, and has a longer head. You'd' a' saved a thousand -dollars by taking her advice the other day about that cotton sale." - - - - -XVII - - -[Illustration: 9142] - -N his way to Rayburn Miller's office that morning Alan decided that he -would not allude to the note he had received the previous evening from -Dolly. He did not like the cynical mood into which such subjects seemed -to draw his friend. He knew exactly what Miller would say, and felt that -it would be too personal to be agreeable. - -He found the lawyer standing in the door of his little office building -waiting for him. - -"I reckon my message surprised you," Miller said, tentatively, as he -shook hands. - -"It took me off my feet," smiled Alan. "You see, I never hoped to get -you interested in that scheme, and when I heard you were actually going -to Atlanta about it, I hardly knew what to make of it." - -Miller turned into his office, kicked a chair towards Alan and dropped -into his creaking rocker. - -"It was not due to you that I did get interested," he said. "Do you -know, I can't think of it without getting hot all over with shame. To -tell you the truth, there is one thing I have always been vain about. I -didn't honestly think there was a man in Georgia that could give me any -tips about investments, but I had to take back water, and for a woman. -Think of that--a woman knocked me off my perch as clean and easy as she -could stick a hair-pin in a ball of hair. I'm not unfair; when anybody -teaches me any tricks, I acknowledge the corn an' take off my hat. -It was this way: I dropped in to see Miss Dolly the other evening. I -accidentally disclosed two things in an offhand sort of way. I told her -some of the views I gave you at the dance in regard to marriage and love -and one thing and another, and then, in complimenting you most highly in -other things, I confess I sort o' poked fun at your railroad idea." - -"I thought you had," said Alan, good-naturedly; "but go on." - -"Well, she first read me a lecture about bad, empty, shallow men, whose -very souls were damned by their past careers, interfering with the pure -impulses of younger men, and I 'll swear I felt like crawling in a -hole and pulling the hole in after me. Well, I got through that, in -a fashion, because she didn't want me to see her real heart, and that -helped me. Then she took up the railroad scheme. You know I had -heard that she advised her father in all his business matters, but, -geewhilikins! I never dreamt she could give me points, but she did--she -simply did. She looked me straight in the eye and stared at me like a -national bank examiner as she asked me to explain why that particular -road could not be built, and why it would not be a bonanza for the -owners of the timber-land. I thought she was an easy fish at first, and -I gave her plenty of line, but she kept peppering me with unanswerable -questions till I lay down on the bank as weak as a rag. The first bliff -she gave me was in wanting to know if there were not many branch roads -that did not own their rolling stock. She said she knew one in the iron -belt in Alabama that didn't own a car or an engine, and wouldn't have -them as a free gift. She said if such a road were built as you plan -these two main lines would simply fall over each other to send out cars -to be loaded for shipment at competitive rates. By George! it was a -corker. I found out the next day that she was right, and that doing away -with the rolling stock, shops, and so forth, would cut down the cost of -your road more than half." - -"That's a fact," exclaimed Alan, "and I had not thought of it." - -"She's a stronger woman than I ever imagined," said Miller. "By George! -if she were not on your string, I'd make a dead set for her. A wife like -that would make a man complete. She's in love with you--or thinks she -is--but she hasn't that will o' the wisp glamour. She's business from -her toes to her fingertips. By George! I believe she makes a business -of her love affair; she seems to think she 'll settle it by a sum in -algebra. But to get back to the railroad, for I've got lots to tell you. -What do you reckon I found that day? You couldn't guess in a thousand -years. It was a preliminary survey of a railroad once planned from -Darley right through your father's purchase to Morganton, North -Carolina. It was made just before the war, by old Colonel Wade, who, in -his day, was one of the most noted surveyors in the State. This end of -the line was all I cared about, and that was almost as level as a floor -along the river and down the valley into the north end of town. It's -a bonanza, my boy. Why that big bottle of timber-land has never been -busted is a wonder to me. If as many Yankees had been nosing about -here as there have been in other Southern sections it would have been -snatched up long ago." - -"I'm awfully glad to hear you say all this," said Alan, "for it is the -only way out of our difficulty, and something has to be done." - -"It may cost you a few years of the hardest work you ever bucked down -to," said Miller, "and some sleepless nights, but I really believe you -have fallen on to a better thing than any I ever struck. I could make -it whiz. I've already done something that will astonish you. I happen -to know slightly Tillman Wilson, the president of the Southern Land and -Timber Company. Their offices are in Atlanta. I knew he was my man to -tackle, so when I got to Atlanta yesterday I ran upon him just as if -it were accidental. I invited him to lunch with me at the Capitol City -Club--you know I'm a non-resident member. You see, I knew if I put -myself in the light of a man with something to sell, he'd hurry away -from me; but I didn't. As a pretext, I told him I had some clients up -here who wanted to raise a considerable amount of money and that the -security offered was fine timber-land. You see that caught him; he -was on his own ground. I saw that he was interested, and I boomed the -property to the skies. The more I talked the more he was interested, -till it was bubbling out all over him. He's a New-Englander, who thinks -a country lawyer without a Harvard education belongs to an effete -civilization, and I let him think he was pumping me. I even left off my -g's and ignored my r's. I let him think he had struck the softest thing -of his life. Pretty soon he begun to want to know if you cared to sell, -but I skirted that indifferently as if I had no interest whatever in it. -I told him your father had bought the property to hold for an advance, -that he had spent years of his life picking out the richest timber spots -and buying them up. Then he came right out, as I hoped he would, and -asked me the amount you wanted to borrow on the property. I had to speak -quick, and remembering that you had said the old gentleman had put in -about twenty thousand first and last, I put the amount at twenty-five -thousand. I was taking a liberty, but I can easily get you out of it if -you decide not to do it." - -"Twenty-five thousand! On that land?" Alan cried. "It would tickle my -father to death to sell it for that." - -"I can arrange the papers so that you are not liable for any security -outside of the land, and it would practically amount to a sale if you -wished it, but you don't wish it. I finally told him that I had an idea -that you would sell out for an even hundred thousand." - -"A hundred thousand!" repeated Alan, with a cheery laugh. "Yes, we'd let -go at that." - -"Well, the figures didn't scarce him a bit, for he finally came right -out and asked me if it was my opinion that in case his company made the -loan, you would agree to give him the refusal of the land at one hundred -thousand. I told him I didn't know, that I thought it possible, but -that just then I had no interest in the matter beyond borrowing a little -money on it. He asked me how long I was going to stay in Atlanta. I told -him I was going to a bank and take the night train back. 'The banks will -stick you for a high rate of interest,' he said, jealously. 'They don't -do business for fun, while, really, our concern happens just now to have -some idle capital on hand. Do you think you could beat five per cent.? -I admitted that it was low enough, but I got up as if I was suddenly -reminded that the banks close early in the afternoon. 'I think we can -make the loan,' he said, 'but I must first see two or three of the -directors. Can't you give me two hours?' I finally gave in and promised -to meet him at the Kimball House at four. I went to a matinée, saw it -half over, and went in at the ladies' entrance of the hotel. I saw him -looking about for me and dodged him." - -"Dodged him?" echoed Alan. "Why--" - -Miller laughed. "You don't suppose I'd let a big fish like that see me -flirting my hook and pole about in open sunlight, do you? I saw by his -manner that he was anxious to meet me, and that was enough; besides, you -can't close a deal like that in a minute, and there are many slips. I -went back to the club and threw myself on a lounge and began to smoke -and read an afternoon paper. Presently he came in a cab. I heard him -asking for me in the hall and buried my head in the paper. He came in -on me and I rose and looked stupid. I can do it when I try--if it _is_ -something God has failed at--and I began to apologize. - -"He didn't seem to care. 'If it had been a deal of your own,' he said -with a laugh, 'you'd have been more prompt,' and I managed to look -guilty. Then he sat down. - -"'Our directors are interested,' he said, confidentially. 'The truth is -there is not another concern in America that can handle that property as -cheaply as we can. We happen to have a railroad about that length up -in East Tennessee that has played out, and you see we could move it to -where it would do some good.' - -"As soon as he told me that I knew he was our meat; besides, I saw trade -in his eye as big as an arc-light. To make a long tale short, he is -coming up here tonight, and if your father is willing to accept the -loan, he can get the money, giving only the land as security--provided -we don't slip up. Here's the only thing I'm afraid of. When Wilson gets -here he may get to making inquiries around and drop on to the report -that your father is disgusted with his investment, and smell a mouse -and pull off. What I want to do is to get at him the first thing after -breakfast in the morning, so you'd better bring your father and mother -in early. If we once get Wilson's twenty-five thousand into it, we can -eventually sell out. The main thing is the loan. Don't you think so?" - -"I certainly do," said Alan. "Of course, a good many things might -interfere; we'd have to get a right of way and a charter before the road -could be built, and I reckon they won't buy till they are sure of those -things." - -"No it may take a long time and a lot of patience," said Miller. "But -your father could afford to wait if he can get his money back by means -of the loan. I tell you that's the main thing. If I had offered to sell -Wilson the whole thing at twenty-five thousand he never would have come -up here, but he is sure now that the property is just what he is looking -for. Oh, we are not certain of him by a long jump! It all depends on -whether he will insist on going over there or not. If he does, those -moss-backs will bu'st the thing wide open. If he comes straight to my -office in the morning the deal may be closed, but if he lies around the -hotel talking, somebody will spoil our plans and Wilson will hang off to -make his own terms later--if he makes any at all. It's ticklish, but we -may win." - -"It _is_ a rather ticklish situation," admitted Alan, "but even if we do -get the loan on the property, don't you think Wilson may delay matters -and hope to scoop the property in for the debt?" - -"He might," Miller smiled, "if he didn't want to move that railroad -somewhere else, and, besides, your father can keep the money in suitable -shape to pay off the note in any emergency and free himself." - -"I don't know how to thank you, old man," answered Alan. "If you had -been personally interested in this you could not have done more." - -Miller threw himself back in his chair and smiled significantly. "Do I -look like a man with nothing in it?" he asked. - -"But you haven't anything in it," retorted Alan, wonderingly. - -"That's all you know about it" Miller laughed. - -"If the road is built I 'll make by it. This is another story. As soon -as I saw you were right about putting a railroad into the mountains, I -began to look around for some of that timber-land. I didn't have long -to wait, for the only man that holds much of it besides Colonel -Barclay--Peter Mosely, whom Perkins fooled just as he did your -father--came in. He was laying for me, I saw it in his eye. The Lord had -delivered him to me, and I was duly thankful. He was a morsel I liked -to look at. He opened up himself, bless you! and bragged about his fine -body of virgin timber. I looked bored, but let him run on till he was -tired; then I said: - -"'Well, Mosely, what do you intend to do with your white elephant? You -know it's not just the sort Barnum is looking for.' - -"He kind o' blinked at that, but he said, 'I've half a notion to sell. -The truth is, I've got the finest investment open to me that I ever had. -If I could afford to wait a few years I could coin money out of this -property, but I believe in turning money quick.' - -"'So do I,' said I, and watched him flirt about in the frying-pan. Then -I said, 'What is the price you hold it at?' - -"'I thought,' said he, 'that I ought to get as much as I paid.' - -"'As much as you paid Abe Tompkins and Perkins?' I said, with a grin. -'Do you think you could possibly sell a piece of land for as much as -those sharks? If you can, you'd better go in the real-estate business. -You'd coin money. Why, they yanked two thousand out of you, didn't -they?' - -"'I don't really think Perkins had anything to do with it,' he said. -'That's just a report out about old man Bishop's deal. I bought my land -on my own judgment.' - -"'Well,' I said, 'how will fifteen hundred round wheels strike you?' - -"'I believe I 'll take you up,' he said. 'I want to make that other -investment.' So we closed and I went at once to have the deed recorded -before he had a chance to change his mind. Now, you see, I'm interested -in the thing, and I'm going to help you put it through. If your folks -want the loan, bring them in in the morning, and if we can manage our -Yankee just right, we 'll get the money." - - - - -XVIII - - -[Illustration: 9151] - -FTER supper that evening the Bishops sat out on the veranda to get the -cool air before retiring. There was only one light burning in the house, -and that was the little, smoky lamp in the kitchen, where the cook was -washing the dishes. Bishop sat near his wife, his coat off and vest -unbuttoned, his chair tilted back against the weatherboarding. Abner -Daniel, who had been trying ever since supper to cheer them up in regard -to their financial misfortune, sat smoking in his favorite chair near -the banisters, on top of which he now and then placed his stockinged -feet. - -"You needn't talk that away, brother Ab," sighed Mrs. Bishop. "Yo're -jest doin' it out o' goodness o' heart. We might as well face the truth; -we've got to step down from the position we now hold, an' present way o' -livin'. And thar's Adele. Pore child! She said in 'er last letter that -she'd cried 'er eyes out. She was bent on comin' home, but 'er uncle -William won't let 'er. He said she'd not do any good." - -"An' she wouldn't," put in Bishop, gruffly. "The sight o' you an' Alan -before me all the time is enough to show me what a fool I've been." - -"You are both crossin' bridges 'fore you git to 'em," said Abner. "A -lots o' folks has come out'n scrapes wuss'n what you are in, ten to one. -I'ain't never mentioned it, but my land hain't got no mortgage on it, -an' I could raise a few scads, to he'p keep up yore intrust an' taxes -till you could see yore way ahead." - -"Huh!" snorted his brother-in-law. "Do you reckon I'd let as old a man as -you are, an' no blood kin, stake his little all to help me out of a hole -that is gittin' deeper an' wider all the time--a hole I deliberately got -myse'f into? Well, not much!" - -"I wouldn't listen to that nuther," declared Mrs. Bishop, "but not many -men would offer it." - -They heard a horse trotting down the road and all bent their heads to -listen. "It's Alan," said Abner. "I was thinkin' it was time he was -showin' up." - -Mrs. Bishop rose wearily to order the cook to get his supper ready, and -returned to the veranda just as Alan Was coming from the stable. He -sat down on the steps, lashing the legs of his dusty trousers with his -riding-whip. It was plain that he had something of importance to say and -they all waited in impatient silence. - -"Father," he said, "I've had a talk with Rayburn Miller about your land; -he and I have lately been working on a little idea of mine. You know -there are people who will lend money on real-estate. How would it suit -you to borrow twenty-five thousand dollars on that land, giving that -alone as security." - -There was a startled silence, and Bishop broke it in a tone of great -irritation. - -"Do you take me fer a plumb fool?" he asked. "When I want you an' Miller -to dabble in my business I 'll call on you. Twenty-five thousand, I say! -If I could exchange every acre of it fer enough to lift the mortgage on -this farm an' keep a roof over our heads I'd do it gladly. Pshaw!" - -There was another silence, and then Alan began to explain. He almost -seemed to his father and mother to be some stranger, as he sat there -in the half dark ness, his eyes hidden by the brim of his soft hat, -and told them how he had worried over their trouble till the idea of -building a railroad had come to him. Then Miller had become interested, -after discouraging him, and had gone to Atlanta to see Wilson, and it -remained for the next day to decide what the outcome would be in regard -to the big loan. - -While he talked Mrs. Bishop sat like a figure cut from stone, and Bishop -leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his big face in his hands. It -was as if a tornado of hope had blown over him, shaking him through and -through. - -"You been doin' this to he'p me out," he gasped, "an' I never so much as -axed yore opinion one way or another." - -"I'd rather see you make money out of that purchase than anything in the -world," said his son, with feeling. "People have made fun of you in -your old age, but if we can build the road and you can get your hundred -thousand dollars some of these folks will laugh on the other side of -their faces." - -Bishop was so full of excitement and emotion that he dared not trust his -voice to utterance. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, -pretending to be calm, though his alert wife saw that he was quivering -in every limb. - -"Oh, Alan," she cried, "don't you see how excited your pa is? You ought -not to raise his hopes this way on such an uncertainty. As Mr. Miller -said, there may be some slip and we'd be right back where we was, and -feel wuss than ever." - -Bishop rose from his chair and began to walk to and fro on the veranda. -"It ain't possible," they heard him saying. "I won't git out as easy as -that--I jest cayn't!" - -"Perhaps it would be wrong to expect too much," said Alan, "but I was -obliged to tell you what we are going in town for to-morrow." - -Bishop wheeled and paused before them. "Ef Wilson puts up the money I'd -have enough to lift the mortgage an' a clean twenty thousand besides to -put in some good investment." - -Aunt Maria, the colored cook, came out and timidly announced that Alan's -supper was on the table, but no one heard her. She crossed the veranda -and touched the young man on the shoulder. - -"Supper's raidy, Marse Alan," she said, "en it's gittin' col' ergin." - -He rose and followed her into the dining-room and sat down in his -accustomed place at the long table. When he had eaten he went back to -the group on the veranda. - -"I think I 'll go up to bed," he told them. "My ride and running around -at Darley has made me very tired. Father, get all your papers together -and let's take an early start in the morning." - -But despite his feeling of weariness, Alan found he could not sleep. -The bright moonlight, streaming in at his window, seemed a disturbing -element. About eleven o'clock he heard some one turning the windlass at -the well, and later the clatter of falling utensils in the kitchen, and -the dead thump of a heavy tread below. He knew then that his father was -up, and, like himself, unable to sleep. Presently Mrs. Bishop slipped -into his room. - -"Are you awake, son?" She spoke in a whisper that she might not disturb -him if he were asleep. - -He laughed. "I haven't closed my eyes; it seems to me I have gone over -my conversation with Miller a thousand times." - -"I've give up tryin'," she told him, with a gratified little laugh. -"I think I could, though, if your pa would 'a' kept still. He's in -the kitchen now makin' him a cup o' strong coffee. He's been over them -papers ever since you come up-stairs. Alan, I'm actually afeerd he -couldn't stand it if that man didn't put up the money." - -"It would go hard with him," said Alan. "Has Uncle Ab gone to sleep?" - -"No; he's settin' in the door o' his room chawin' tobacco; he lays the -blame on yore pa. I don't think I ever saw him so irritated before. But -nobody ain't to blame but hisse'f. He's jest excited like the rest of -us. I've seed 'im lie an' snore with a bigger noise goin' on around 'im -'an yore pa is a-makin'." - - - - -XIX - - -[Illustration: 9156] - -S Henry, Aunt Maria's husband, who was the chief farm-hand, was busy -patching fences the next morning, Bishop sent over for Pole Baker to -drive the spring-wagon. Alan sat beside Pole, and Abner and Bishop and -Mrs. Bishop occupied the rear seats. - -Alan knew he could trust Pole, drunk or sober, and he confided his plans -to the flattered fellow's ears. Pole seemed to weigh all the chances for -and against success in his mind as he sat listening, a most grave and -portentous expression on his massive face. - -"My opinion is the feller 'll be thar as shore as preachin'," he said. -"But whether you git his wad or not, that's another question. Miller's -as sharp as a briar, an', as he says, if Wilson gits to talkin' about -that land to any o' these hill-Billies they 'll bu'st the trade or die -tryin'. Jest let 'em heer money's about to change hands an' it 'll make -'em so durn jealous they 'll swear a lie to keep it away from anybody -they know. That's human natur'." - -"I believe you are right," said Alan, pulling a long face; "and I'm -afraid Wilson will want to make some inquiries before he closes." - -"Like as not," opined the driver; "but what I'd do, ef I was a-runnin' -it, would be to git some feller to strike up with 'im accidental-like, -an' liter'ly fill 'im to the neck with good things about the property -without him ever dreamin' he was bein' worked." - -The two exchanged glances. Alan had never looked at the man so -admiringly. At that moment he seemed a giant of shrewdness, as well as -that of physical strength. - -"I believe you are right, Pole," he said, thoughtfully. - -"That's what I am, an', what's more, I'm the one that could do the -fillin', without him ever knowin' I had a funnel in his mouth. If I -can't do it, I 'll fill my hat with saft mud an' put it on." - -Alan smiled warmly. "I 'll mention it to Miller," he said. "Yes, you -could do it, Pole--if any man on earth could." - -Driving up to Miller's office they found the door open, and the owner -came out with a warm smile of greeting and aided Mrs. Bishop to alight. -"Well," he smiled, when they had taken seats in the office. "We have -gained the first step towards victory. Wilson is at the hotel. I saw his -name on the register this morning." - -The elder Bishops drew a breath of relief. The old man grounded his -heavy walking-stick suddenly, as if it had slipped through his inert -fingers. - -"I'm trustin' you boys to pull me through," he said, with a shaky laugh. -"I hain't never treated Alan right, an' I'm heer to confess it. I 'lowed -I was the only one in our layout with any business sense." - -"So you are willing to accept the loan?" said Miller. - -"Willin'? I reckon I am. I never slept one wink last night fer feer -some 'n' 'll interfere with it." - -Miller reflected a moment and then said: "I am afraid of only one thing, -and that is this: Not one man in a million will make a trade of this -size without corroborating the statements made by the people he is -dealing with. Wilson is at breakfast by this time, and after he is -through he may decide to nose around a little before coming to me. I'm -afraid to go after him; he would think I was over-anxious. The trouble -is that he may run upon somebody from out in the mountains--there are a -lot in town already--and get to talking. Just one word about your biting -off more than you can chaw, Mr. Bishop, would make 'im balk like a mean -mule. He thinks I'm favoring him now, but let him get the notion that -you haven't been holding that land for at least a hundred thousand an' -the thing would bu'st like a bubble." - -Alan mentioned Pole Baker's proposition. Miller thought it over for a -moment, his brow wrinkled, and then he said: "Good!--a good idea, but -you must call Pole in and let me give him a few pointers. By George! he -could keep Wilson away from dangerous people anyway." - -Alan went after Pole, and Miller took him into his consultation-room in -the rear, where they remained for about fifteen minutes. When they came -out Pole's face was very grave. "I won't forget a thing," he said to -Miller. "I understand exactly what you want. When I git through with -'im he 'll want that land bad enough to pay anything fer it, an' he won't -dream I'm in cahoot with you, nuther. I can manage that. I ain't no fool -ef I do have fits." - -"Do you remember my description of him?" asked Miller. - -"You bet I do--thick-set, about fifty, bald, red-faced, sharp, black -eyes, iron gray hair, an' mighty nigh always with a cigar in his mouth." - -"That's right," laughed Miller, "now do your work, and we won't forget -you. By all means keep him away from meddlesome people." - -When Pole had left the office and Miller had resumed his revolving-chair -Mrs. Bishop addressed him, looking straight into his eyes. - -"I don't see," she said, in a timid, hesitating way, and yet with a note -of firmness dominating her tone--"I don't see why we have to go through -all this trickery to make the trade. Ef the land is good security fer -the money we needn't be afeerd of what the man will find out. Ef it ain' -t good security I don't want his money as fer as I'm concerned." - -"I was jest thinkin' that, too," chimed in her husband, throwing a -troubled glance all round. "I want money to help me out o' my scrape, -but I don't want to trick no man, Yankee or what not, into toatin' my -loads. As Betsy says, it seems to me if the land's wuth the money we -needn't make such a great to-do. I'm afeerd I won't feel exactly right -about it." - -The young men exchanged alarmed glances. - -"You don't understand," said Miller, lamely, but he seemed to be -unprepared for views so heretical to financial dealings, and could not -finish what he had started to say. - -"Why," said Alan, testily, "the land is worth all Wilson can make out of -it with the aid of his capital and the railroad he proposes to lay -here. Father, you have spent several years looking up the best timbered -properties, and getting good titles to it, and to a big lumber company a -body of timber like you hold is no small tiling. We don't want to cheat -him, but we do want to keep him from trying to cheat us by getting the -upper hand. Rayburn thinks if he finds out we are hard up he 'll try to -squeeze us to the lowest notch." - -"Well," sighed Mrs. Bishop, "I'm shore I never had no idea we'd resort -to gittin' Pole Baker to tole anybody around like a hog after a yeer o' -corn. I 'lowed we was going to make a open-and-shut trade that we could -be proud of, an' stop folk's mouths about Alfred's foolish dealin' -s. But," she looked at Abner, who stood in the doorway leading to the -consultation-room, "I 'll do whatever brother Ab thinks is right. I never -knowed 'im to take undue advantage of anybody." - -They all looked at Abner, who was smiling broadly. - -"Well, I say git his money," he replied, with a short, impulsive -laugh--"git his money, and then ef you find he's starvin', hand 'im back -what you feel you don't need. I look on a thing like this sorter like -I did on scramblin' fer the upper holt in war-times. I remember I shot -straight at a feller that was climbin' up the enemy's breastworks on his -all-fours. I said to myse'f, ef this ball strikes you right, old chap, -'fore you drap over the bank, yo're one less agin the Confederacy; ef -it don't you kin pop away at me. I don't think I give 'im anything but -a flesh-wound in the back--beca'se he jest sagged down a little an' -crawled on--an' that's about the wust you could do fer Wilson. I believe -he ort to hold the bag awhile. Alf's hung on to it till his fingers ache -an' he's weak at the knees. I never did feel like thar was any harm in -passin' a counterfeit bill that some other chap passed on me. Ef -the government, with all its high-paid help, cayn't keep crooked -shinplasters from slidin' under our noses, it ortn't to kick agin our -lookin' out fer ourse'ves." - -"You needn't lose any sleep about the Southern Land and Timber Company, -Mrs. Bishop," said Miller. "They will take care of themselves--in fact, -we 'll have to keep our eyes peeled to watch them even if we get this -loan. Wilson didn't come up here for his health." - -"Oh, mother's all right," said Alan, "and so is father, but they must -not chip in with that sort of talk before Wilson." - -"Oh no, you mustn't," said Miller. "In fact, I think you'd better let me -and Alan do the talking. You see, if you sit perfectly quiet he 'll think -you are reluctant about giving such big security for such a small amount -of money, and he will trade faster." - -"Oh, I'm perfectly willin' to keep quiet," agreed the old man, who now -seemed better satisfied. - -Pole Baker left the office with long, swinging strides. There was an -entrance to the Johnston House through a long corridor opening on the -street, and into this Pole slouched. The hotel office was empty save for -the clerk who stood behind the counter, looking over the letters in the -pigeon-holed key-rack on the wall. There was a big gong overhead which -was rung by pulling a cord. It was used for announcing meals and calling -the porter. A big china bowl on the counter was filled with wooden -tooth-picks, and there was a show-case containing cigars. Pole glanced -about cautiously without being noticed by the clerk, and then withdrew -into the corridor, where he stood for several minutes, listening. -Presently the dining-room door opened and Wilson strolled out and walked -up to the counter. - -"What sort of cigars have you got?" he said to the clerk. - -"Nothing better than ten, three for a quarter," was the respectful -reply, as the clerk recognized the man who had asked for the best room -in the house. - -Wilson thrust his fingers into his vest-pocket and drew out a cigar. "I -guess I can make what I have last me," he said, transferring his glance -to Pole Baker, who had shambled across the room and leaned heavily over -the open register. "Want to buy any chickins--fine fryin' size?" he -asked the clerk. - -"Well, we are in the market," was the answer. "Where are they?" - -"I didn't fetch 'em in to-day," said Pole, dryly. "I never do till I -know what they are a-bringin'. You'd better make a bid on a dozen of 'em -anyway. They are the finest ever raised on Upper Holly Creek, jest this -side o' whar old man Bishop's lumber paradise begins." - -Pole was looking out of the corner of his eye at the stranger, and -saw his hand, which was in the act of striking a match, suddenly stay -itself. - -"We don't bid on produce till we see it," said the clerk. - -"Well, I reckon no harm was done by my axin'," said Pole, who felt the -eyes of the stranger on him. - -"Do you live near here?" asked Wilson, with a smile half of apology at -addressing a stranger, even of Pole's humble stamp. - -"No." Pole laughed and waved his hand towards the mountains in the west, -which were plainly discernible in the clear morning light. "No, I'm -a mountain shanghai. I reckon it's fifteen mile on a bee-line to my -shack." - -"Didn't you say you lived near old Mr. Bishop's place?" asked Wilson, -moving towards the open door which led to the veranda. - -"I don't know which place o' his'n you mean," said Pole when they were -alone outside and Wilson had lighted his cigar. "That old scamp owns the -whole o' creation out our way. Well, I 'll take that back, fer he don't -own any land that hain't loaded down with trees, but he's got territory -enough. Some thinks he's goin' to seceed from the United States an' -elect himself President of his own country." - -Wilson laughed, and then he said: "Have you got a few minutes to spare?" - -"I reckon I have," said Pole, "ef you've got the mate to that cigar." - -Wilson laughed again as he fished the desired article from his pocket -and gave it and a match to Pole. Then he leaned against the heavy -railing of the banisters. "I may as well tell you," he said, "I'm a -dealer in lumber myself, and I'd like to know what kind of timber you -have out there." - -Pole pulled at the cigar, thrust it well into the corner of his mouth -with the fire end smoking very near his left eye, and looked thoughtful. -"To tell you the truth, my friend," he said, "I railly believe you'd be -wastin' time to go over thar." - -"Oh, you think so." It was a vocal start on the part of Wilson. - -"Yes, sir; the truth is, old man Bishop has simply raked into his dern -clutch ever' acre o' fine timber out that away. Now ef you went east, -over t'other side o' the mountains, you mought pick out some good -timber; but as I said, old man Bishop's got it all in a bag out our way. -Saw-mill?" - -"No, I don't run a saw-mill," said Wilson, with an avaricious sparkle in -his eye. "I sometimes buy timbered lands for a speculation, that's all." - -Pole laughed. "I didn't see how you could be a saw-mill man an' smoke -cigars like this an' wear them clothes. I never knowed a saw-mill man to -make any money." - -"I suppose this Mr. Bishop is buying to sell again," said Wilson, -tentatively. "People generally have some such idea when they put money -into such property." Pole looked wise and thoughtful. "I don't know -whether he is or not," he said. "But my opinion is that he 'll hold on to -it till he's in the ground. He evidently thinks a good time's a-comin'! -Thar was a feller out thar t'other day with money to throw at cats; he's -been tryin' to honeyfuggle the old man into a trade, but I don't think -he made a deal with 'im." - -"Where was the man from?" Wilson spoke uneasily. "I don't railly know, -but he ain't a-goin' to give up. He told Neil Fulmore at his store that -he was goin' home to see his company an' write the old man a proposition -that ud fetch 'im ef thar was any trade in 'im." - -Wilson pulled out his watch. - -"Do you happen to know where Mr. Rayburn Miller's law office is?" he -asked. - -"Yes; it's right round the corner. I know whar all the _white_ men -in this town do business, an' he's as white as they make 'em, an' as -straight as a shingle." - -"He's an acquaintance of mine," said Wilson. "I thought I'd run in and -see him before I leave." - -"It's right round the corner, an' down the fust side street, towards the -court-house. I 'ain't got nothin' to do; I 'll p'int it out." - -"Thank you," said Wilson, and they went out of the house and down the -street together, Pole puffing vigorously at his cigar in the brisk -breeze. - -"Thar you are," said Pole, pointing to Miller's sign. "Good-day, sir; -much obleeged fer this smoke," and with his head in the air Pole walked -past the office without looking in. - -"Good-morning," exclaimed Miller, as Wilson entered. "You are not an -early riser like we are here in the country." He introduced Wilson all -round, and then gave him a chair near his desk and facing him rather -than the others. - -"This is the gentleman who owns the property, I believe," said Wilson, -suavely, as he indicated Bishop. - -Miller nodded, and a look of cunning dawned in his clear eye. - -"Yes. I have just been explaining to Mr. and Mrs. Bishop that the mere -signing of a paper such as will be necessary to secure the loan will -not bind them at all in the handling of their property. You know how -cautious older people are nowadays in regard to legal matters. Now, Alan -here, their son, understands the matter thoroughly, and his mind is not -at all disturbed." - -Wilson fell into the preliminary trap. "Oh no; it's not a binding -thing at all," he said. "The payment of the money back to us releases -you--that is, of course," Wilson recovered himself, "if we make the -loan." - -Several hearts in the room sank, but Miller's face did not alter in the -slightest. "Oh, of course, if the loan is made," he said. - -Wilson put his silk hat on the top of Miller's desk, and flicked the -ashes from his cigar into a cuspidor. Then he looked at Mrs. Bishop -suddenly--"Does the lady object to smoking?" - -"Not at all," said the old lady--"not at all." - -There was a pause as Wilson relighted his cigar and pulled at it in -silence. A step sounded on the sidewalk and Trabue put his head in at -the door. Miller could have sworn at him, but he smiled. "Good-morning, -Squire," he said. - -"I see you are busy," said the intruder, hastily. - -"Just a little, Squire. I 'll see you in a few minutes." - -"Oh, all right." The old lawyer moved on down the sidewalk, his hands in -his pockets. - -Miller brought up the subject again with easy adroitness. "I mentioned -your proposition to my clients--the proposition that they allow you the -refusal of the land at one hundred thousand, and they have finally come -round to it. As I told them, they could not possibly market a thing like -that as easily and for as good a price as a company regularly in the -business. I may have been wrong in giving such advice, but it was the -way I felt about it." - -Without realizing it, Wilson tripped in another hole dug by Miller's -inventive mind. - -"They couldn't do half as well with it," the Boston man said. "In fact, -no one could, as I told you, pay as much for the property as we can, -considering the railroad we have to move somewhere, and our gigantic -facilities for handling lumber in America and abroad. Still I think, and -our directors think, a hundred thousand is a big price." - -Miller laughed as if amused. "That's five dollars an acre, you know, -but I'm not here to boom Mr. Bishop's timber-land. In fact, all this -has grown out of my going down to Atlanta to borrow twenty-five thousand -dollars on the property. I think I would have saved time if I hadn't run -on you down there, Mr. Wilson." - -Wilson frowned and looked at his cigar. - -"We are willing," said he, "to make the loan at five per cent, per annum -on two conditions." - -"Well, out with them," laughed Miller. "What are they?" - -"First," said Wilson, slowly and methodically, "we want the refusal of -the property at one hundred thousand dollars." - -A thrill of triumph passed over the silent group. Alan saw his father's -face fill with sudden hope, and then it seemed to stand in abeyance as -if doubt had already mastered it. Abner Daniel caught his beard in his -stiff fingers and slowly slid them downward. Mrs. Bishop's bonnet hid -her face, but her fingers were twitching excitedly as they toyed with -the fringe of her shawl. - -Miller's indifference was surprising. "For what length of time do you -want the refusal of the property at that figure?" he asked, almost in a -tone of contempt. - -Wilson hung fire, his brow wrinkled thoughtfully. - -"Till it is decided positively," he got out finally, "whether we can get -a charter and a right of way to the property." - -To those who were not following the details as closely as were Alan and -Miller the reply of the latter fell discouragingly, even Abner Daniel -glared in open horror of what he regarded as an unfavorable turn in the -proceedings. - -"That's entirely too indefinite to suit my clients," said the lawyer. -"Do you suppose, Mr. Wilson, that they want to hang their property up -on a hook like that? Why, if you didn't attend to pushing your road -through--well, they would simply be in your hands, the Lord only knows -how long." - -"But we intend to do all we can to shove it through," said Wilson, with -a flush. - -"You know that is not a business-like proposition, Mr. Wilson," said -Miller, with a bland smile. "Why, it amounts to an option without any -limit at all." - -"Oh, I don't know," said Wilson, lamely. "Mr. Bishop will be interested -just as we are in getting a right of way through--in fact, it would -insure us of his help. We can't buy a right of way; we can't afford it. -The citizens through whose property the road runs must be persuaded -to contribute the land for the purpose, and Mr. Bishop, of course, has -influence up here with his neighbors." - -"Still he would be very imprudent," said Miller, "to option his property -without any limit. Now here's what we are willing to do. As long as -you hold Mr. Bishop's note for twenty-five thousand dollars unpaid, you -shall have the refusal of the land at one hundred thousand dollars. Now -take my advice"--Miller was smiling broadly--"let it stand at that." - -Wilson reflected for a moment, and then he said: "All right; let -that go. The other condition is this--and it need be only a verbal -promise--that nothing be said about my company's making this loan nor -our securing the refusal of the property." - -"That will suit us," said Miller. "Mr. Bishop' doesn't care to have -the public know his business. Of course, the mortgage will have to be -recorded at the court-house, but that need not attract attention. I -don't blame Mr. Bishop," went on Miller, in a half-confidential tone. -"These people are the worst gossips you ever saw. If you meet any of -them they will tell you that Mr. Bishop has bu'sted himself wide open by -buying so much timber-land, but this loan will make him as solid as the -Bank of England. The people don't understand his dealings, and they are -trying to take it out on him by blasting his reputation for being one of -the solidest men in his county." - -"Well, that's all, I believe," said Wilson, and Miller drew a blank -sheet of legal-cap paper to him and began to write. Half an hour later -the papers were signed and Miller carelessly handed Wilson's crisp pink -check on a New York bank to Mr. Bishop. - -"There you are, Mr. Bishop," he said, with a smile; "you didn't want any -one else to have a finger in that big pie of yours over there, but you -needed money, and I 'll tell you as a friend that a hundred thousand cash -down will be about as well as you can do with that land. It takes money, -and lots of it, to make money, and Mr. Wilson's company can move the -thing faster than you can." - -"That's a fact," said Wilson, in a tone that betrayed -self-gratification. "Now we must all pull together for the railroad." He -rose and turned to Miller. "Will you come with me to record the paper?" - -"Certainly," said Miller, and they both left together. - -The Bishop family were left alone, and the strain being lifted, they -found themselves almost wholly exhausted. - -"Is it all over?" gasped the old woman, standing up and grasping her -son's arm. - -"We've got his money," Alan told her, with a glad smile, "and a fair -chance for more." - -The pink check was fluttering in old Bishop's hand. Already the old -self-willed look that brooked no interference with his personal affairs -was returning to his wrinkled face. - -"I 'll go over to Craig's bank an' deposit it," he said to Alan. "It 'll -take a day or two to collect it, but he'd let me check on it right now -fer any reasonable amount." - -"I believe I'd ask him not to mention the deposit," suggested Alan. - -"Huh! I reckon I've got sense enough to do that." - -"I thought you intended to pay off the mortgage on our farm the fust -thing," ventured Mrs. Bishop. - -"We can' t do it till the note's due next January," said Bishop, -shortly. "I agreed to keep the money a yeer, an' Martin Doe 'll make me -hold to it. But what do you reckon I care as long as I've got some 'n' to -meet it with?" - -Mrs. Bishop's face fell. "I'd feel better about it if it was cleer," she -faltered. "But the Lord knows we ort to feel thankful to come out as we -have. If it hadn't been fer Alan--Mr. Miller said that Alan--" - -"Ef you all hadn't made sech a eternal row," broke in Bishop, testily, -"I'd 'a' had more timber-land than this. Colonel Barclay has as fine a -strip as any I got, an' he's bantered me for a trade time an' agin." - -Abner Daniel seldom sneered at anybody, no matter what the provocation -was, but it seemed impossible for him to refrain from it now. - -"You've been lookin' fer the last three months like a man that needed -more land," he said. "Jest no furder back 'an last night you 'lowed ef -you could git enough fer yore folly to raise the debt off'n yore farm -you'd die happy, an' now yo' re a-frettin' beca'se you didn't buy up the -sides o' the earth an' give nobody else a foothold. Le' me tell you the -truth, even ef it _does_ hurt a little. Ef Alan hadn't thought o' this -heer railroad idea, you'd 'a' been the biggest human pancake that ever -lay flat in its own grease." - -"I hain't said nothin' to the contrary," admitted Bishop, who really -took the reproof well. "Alan knows what I think about it." - -Then Bishop and his wife went to Craig's bank, and a moment later Miller -returned, rubbing his hands with satisfaction. - -"We got through, and he's gone to catch his train," he said. - -"It worked as smooth as goose-grease. I wonder what Pole Baker said to -him, or if he saw him. I have an idea he did, from the way Wilson danced -to our music." - -"Heer's Pole now," said Abner, from the door. "Come in heer, you -triflin' loafer, an' give an account o' yorese'f." - -"I seed 'im makin' fer the train," laughed Pole, "an' so I sneaked in to -see what you-uns done. He walked like he owned the town." - -"It went through like lightning, without a hitch or a bobble," Abner -told him. "We was jest a-won-derin' what you shot into 'im." - -"I hardly know," Pole sniggered. "I got to talkin' to 'im an' it looked -to me like I was chippin' off tan-bark with the sharpest tool I ever -handled. Every lick seemed to draw blood, an' he stood an' tuck it -without a start or a shiver. I said to myse'f: 'Pole Baker, yo're -nothin' but a rag-tag, bob-tail mountain Hoosier, an' he's a slick duck -from up North, with a gold watch-chain an' a silk beaver, but he's a -lappin' up what you say like a hungry kitten does a pan o' milk. Go it, -old boy, an' ef you win, you 'll he'p the finest man out o' trouble--I -mean Alan Bishop, by gum--that ever lived.' It seemed to me I was -filled with the fire of heaven. I could 'a' been at it yet--fer I'd -jest started--but he drawed his watch on me, an' made a shoot fer this -office, me with 'im, fer feer some yokel would strike up with 'im. I -mighty nigh shoved 'im in at the door." - -"You did noble," said Miller, while Pole and Alan were silently -clasping hands. "Now I told you we wouldn't forget you. Go down to -Wimbley's and tell him to give you the best suit of clothes he's got, -and to charge them to me 'n' Alan." - -Pole drew himself up to his full height, and stared at the lawyer with -flashing eyes. - -"Damn yore soul," he said; "don't you say a thing like that to me agin. -I 'll have you know I've got feelin' s as well as you or anybody else. -I'd cut off this right arm an' never wince to do Alan Bishop a favor, -but I 'll be danged ef anybody kin look me over after I've done a -_little_ one an' pay me for it in store-clothes. I don't like that one -bit, an' I ain't afeerd to say so." - -"I didn't mean any offence, Pole," apologized Miller, most humbly. - -"Well, you wouldn't 'a' said it to _some_ men," growled Pole, "I know -that. When I want pay fer a thing like that, I 'll jest go to that corner -o' the street an' look down at that rock-pile, whar Alan found me one -day an' paid me out jest to keep me from bein' the laughin'-stock o' -this town." - -Alan put his arm over his shoulder. "Rayburn didn't mean any harm," -he said, gently. "You are both my friends, and we've had a big victory -to-day; let's not have hard feelings." - -Pole hung his head stubbornly and Miller extended his hand. Abner Daniel -was an attentive listener, a half smile on his face. - -"Say, Pole," he said, with a little laugh, "you run down to Wimbley's -an' tell 'im not to wrop up that suit. I'm a-owin' him a bill, an' he -kin jest credit the value of it on my account." - -Pole laughed heartily and thrust his big hand into Miller's. - -"Uncle Ab," he said, "you'd make a dog laugh." - -"I believe yo' re right," said Abner, significantly, and then they all -roared at Pole's expense. - -The next day Alan received the following letter from Dolly Barclay: - -"_DEAR ALAN,--Rayburn Miller told me in confidence of your wonderful -success yesterday, and I simply cried with joy. I knew--I felt that you -would win, and this is, as he says, a glorious beginning. I am so proud -of you, and I am so full of hope to-day. All our troubles will come -out right some day, and now that I know you love me I can wait. Rayburn -would not have confided so much to me, but he said, while he would not -let me tell father anything about the prospective railroad, he wanted -me to prevent him from selling his tract of land near yours. You know -my father consults me about all his business, and he will not dispose of -that property without my knowing of it. Oh, wouldn't it he a fine joke -on him to have him profit by your good judgment._" - -Alan was at the little post-office in Filmore's store when he received -the letter, and he folded it and restored it to its envelope with a -heart filled with love and tenderness. As he walked home through the -woods, it seemed to him that everything in nature was ministering to his -boundless happiness. He felt as light as air as he strode along. "God -bless her dear, dear little soul!" he said, fervently. - - - - -XX - - -[Illustration: 9173] - -BOUT a week after this transaction Rayburn Miller went to Atlanta on -business for one of his clients, and while there he incidentally called -at the offices of the Southern Land and Timber Company, hoping to meet -Wilson and learn something about his immediate plans in regard to the -new railroad. But he was informed that the president of the company had -just gone to New York, and would not be back for a week. - -Rayburn was waiting in the rotunda of the Kimball House for his train, -which left at ten o' clock, when he ran across his friend, Captain Ralph -Burton, of the Gate City Guards, a local military company. - -"Glad to see you," said the young officer. "Did you run up for the -ball?" - -"What ball is that?" asked Miller. "I am at the first of it." - -"Oh, we are giving one here in this house tonight," answered Burton, who -was a handsome man of thirty-five, tall and erect, and appeared at -his best in his close-fitting evening-suit and light overcoat. "Come -up-stairs and I 'll introduce you to a lot of strangers." - -"Can't," Rayburn told him. "I've got to leave at ten o' clock." - -"Well, you've got a good hour yet," insisted the officer. "Come up on -the next floor, where the orchestra is, anyway, and we can sit down and -watch the crowd come in." - -Miller complied, and they found seats on the spacious floor overlooking -the thronged office. From where they sat they could look through several -large drawing-rooms into the ballroom beyond. Already a considerable -number of people had assembled, and many couples were walking about, -even quite near to the two young men. - -"By George!" suddenly exclaimed Miller, as a couple passed them, "who is -that stunning-looking blonde; she walks like a queen." - -"Where?" asked Burton, looking in the wrong direction. - -"Why, there, with Charlie Penrose." - -"Oh, that one," said Burton, trying to think, "I know as well as I know -anything, but her name has slipped my memory. Why, she's visiting the -Bishops on Peachtree Street--a Miss Bishop, that's it." - -"Adele, little Adele? Impossible!" cried Rayburn, "and I've been -thinking of her as a child all these years." - -"So you know her?" said Captain Burton. - -"Her brother is a chum of mine," explained Miller. "I haven't seen her -since she went to Virginia to school, five years ago. I never would have -recognized her in the world. My Lord! she's simply regal." - -"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her," said the Captain; "but I've -heard lots about her from the boys who go to Bishop's. They say she's -remarkably clever--recites, you know, and takes off the plantation negro -to perfection. She's a great favorite with Major Middleton, who doesn't -often take to the frying size. She has been a big drawing card out at -Bishop's ever since she came. The boys say the house overflows every -evening. Are you going to speak to her?" - -"If I get a good chance," said Rayburn, his eyes on the couple as they -disappeared in the ballroom. "I don't like to go in looking like this, -but she'd want to hear from home." - -"Oh, I see," said Burton. "Well, you'd better try it before the grand -march sweeps everything before it." - -As Miller entered the ballroom, Penrose was giving Adele a seat behind -a cluster of palms, near the grand piano, around which the German -orchestra was grouped. He went straight to her. - -"You won't remember me, Miss Adele," he said, with a smile, "but I'm -going to risk speaking to you, anyway." - -She looked up from the bunch of flowers in her lap, and, in a startled, -eager sort of way, began to study his face. - -"No, I do not," she said, flushing a little, and yet smiling agreeably. - -"Well, I call that a good joke," Penrose broke in, with a laugh, as he -greeted Miller with a familiar slap on the shoulder. "Why, Rayburn, on -my word, she hasn't talked of anybody else for the last week, and here -she--" - -"You are _not_ Rayburn Miller!" Adele exclaimed, and she stood up to -give him her hand. "Yes, I have been talking of you, and it seems to me -I have a thousand things to say, and oh, so many thanks!" - -There was something in this impulsive greeting that gave Miller a -delectable thrill all over. - -"You were such a little thing the last time I saw you," he said, almost -tenderly. "I declare, you have changed--so, so remarkably." - -She nodded to Penrose, who was excusing himself, and then she said to -Miller, "Are you going to dance to-night?" - -He explained that he was obliged to take the train which left in a few -minutes. - -He saw her face actually fall with disappointment. The very genuineness -of the expression pleased him inexplicably. "Then I must hurry," she -said. "Would you mind talking to me a little while?" - -"Nothing could possibly please me so much," said he. "Suppose we stroll -around?" - -She took his arm and he led her back to the rotunda overlooking the -office. - -"So you are Rayburn Miller!" she said, looking at him wonderingly. "Do -you know, I have pictured you in my mind many times since mother wrote -me all about how you rescued us from ruin. Oh, Mr. Miller, I could not -in a thousand years tell you how my heart filled with gratitude to -you. My mother goes into the smallest details in her letters, and she -described your every word and action during that transaction in your -office. I could tell just where her eyes filled and her throat choked -up by her quivering handwriting. I declare, I looked on you as a sort -of king with unlimited power. If I were a man I'd rather use my brain to -help suffering people than to be made President of the United States -and be a mere figure-head. You must not think I am spoiled by all this -glitter and parade down here. The truth is, I heartily despise it. I -wanted to be at home so bad when I got that letter that I cried myself -to sleep." - -"You must not forget that your brother conceived the plan," Miller -protested, "and that I only--" - -"Oh yes; I know Alan thought of it," she interrupted, "but without your -experience and firmness it would have remained in his dear old brain -till the Lord knows when. The idea of their being in debt was slowly -killing my father and mother, and you came to their relief just when -they were unable to bear it any longer. I'm so glad you thought of -borrowing that money." - -Just then a young man, half a head shorter than Adele, came up -hurriedly. "Oh, here you are," he exclaimed, in a gasp of relief. "I've -been looking for you everywhere. This is mine, you know--the grand -march. They are all ready." - -Adele smiled pleasantly. "I hope you 'll excuse me from it, Mr. -Tedcastle," she said. "I've just met a friend from home; I want to talk -with him, and--" - -"But, Miss Bishop, I--" - -"I asked you to please excuse me, Mr. Tedcastle." Miller saw her face -harden, as if from the sneer of contempt that passed over it. "I hope -it will not be necessary for me to explain my reasons in detail until I -have a little more time at my disposal." - -"Oh, certainly not, Miss Bishop," said the young man, red with anger, as -he bowed himself away. - -"What's society coming to?" Adele asked Miller, with a nervous little -laugh. "Does a lady have to get down on her knees and beg men, little -jumping-jacks, like that one, to excuse her, and pet them into a -good-humor when she has good reason to change her mind about an -engagement? That's a sort of slavery I don't intend to enter." - -"You served him right," said Miller, who had himself resented the -young man's childish impetuosity, and felt like slapping him for his -impertinence. - -Adele shrugged her fine shoulders. "Let's not waste any more time -talking about him," she said. "I was going to tell you how happy you -made them all. When I read mother's description of their return home -that night--how she went round looking at each object and touching it, -that she might realize it was hers again; and how father sat up till -past midnight talking incessantly about it; and all the droll things -Uncle Abner said, I cried and laughed by turns. I longed to see you, to -tell you how I felt about what you did, and yet, now that I'm with you, -all I say seems utterly weak and--inadequate." - -"It seems wonderfully nice to me," Miller declared. "I don't deserve -anything, and yet--well, I like to hear you talk." He laughed. "Whether -I deserve it or not, I could listen to you for a week on a stretch." - -In truth, Rayburn Miller had never in all his varied social career -become so suddenly and startlingly interested in any woman. It all -seemed like a dream, and a most delicious one--the gay assemblage, the -intermittent strains of the music, the touch of the stately creature -on his arm, the perfume of her flowers, her hair, her eyes! He suddenly -felt fearful of the passage of time, the leaving of his train, the -approach of some one to claim her attention. He could not explain the -spell she had thrown on him. Was it because she was his friend's sister, -and so astoundingly pretty, frank, and sensible, or could it be that--? - -His train of thought was broken by the approach of Miss Ida Bishop, -Adele's cousin, a rather plain girl, who, with her scrawny neck and -scant hair--which rebelled against being made much of--would have -appeared to better advantage in a street costume. - -"Oh, Adele," she cried, reproachfully, "what _do_ you mean? Do you know -you have mortally offended Mr. Tedcastle? He had the march with you." - -"And I asked him as a favor to excuse me from it," said Adele, simply. -"I had just met Mr. Miller, who is to leave on an early train, and I -wanted to talk to him about home. Have you been introduced? My cousin, -Miss Bishop, Mr. Rayburn Miller." - -Miss Bishop bowed indifferently, and looked as if she still saw no -justification in the slight under question. - -"I'm awfully sorry," she said, reprovingly. "Mr. Tedcastle has been as -nice to you as he could be, and this is the way you show appreciation -for it. I don't blame him for being mad, do you, Mr. Miller?" - -"I'm afraid I'd be a prejudiced witness," he smiled, "benefiting as I am -by the gentleman' s discomfiture; but, really, I can' t think that -any circumstances could justify a man in pressing a lady to fill an -engagement when she chooses not to do so for any reason of hers." - -"I knew you'd say that," said Adele. "If anybody has a right to be -offended it is I, for the way he has acted without waiting for my full -explanation." - -"Oh, that is a high and mighty course that will do better for novels -than real life," disagreed Miss Ida Bishop. "The young men are badly -spoiled here, and if we want attention we've got to humor them." - -"They shall not be spoiled by me," declared Adele. "Why," shrugging her -shoulders, contemptuously, "if I had to run after them and bind up their -bruises every time they fell down, I'd not appreciate their attentions. -Besides, Mr. Tedcastle and his whole ilk actually put me to sleep. -What do they talk about? Driving, pet dogs, flowers, candies, -theatre-parties, and silly bosh, generally. Last Sunday Senator Hare -dined at uncle's, and after dinner he and I were having really a -wholesome sort of talk, and I was respecting myself--well, a little like -I am now--when in traped 'Teddy' with his hangers-on. Of course, I had -to introduce them to the Senator, and I felt like a fool, for he knew -they were my 'company,' and it was impossible to keep them quiet. They -went on with their baby talk, just as if Senator Hare were being given -an intellectual treat. Of course, there are _some_ grown-up men in -Atlanta, but they are driven to the clubs by the swarms of little -fellows. There comes Major Middleton, one of the old régime. He may ask -me to dance with him. Now watch; if he does, I 'll answer him just as I -did Mr. Tedcastle, and you shall see how differently he will treat it." - -The Major, a handsome man of powerful physique and a great shock of -curly, iron-gray hair, approached Adele, and with a low bow held out his -hand. - -"I'm after the next dance, my dear," he said. "You are one of the very -few who ever dance with me, and I don't want to go home without it." - -Adele smiled. "I'm very sorry, Major," she said; "but I hope you 'll -excuse me this evening." - -"Oh, that's all right, my dear _child_," he said. "No, don't explain. I -know your reasons are all right. Go ahead and enjoy yourself in your own -way." - -"I won my bet," Adele laughed. "Major, I knew so well what you would say -that I bet on it," and then she explained the situation. - -"Tedcastle ought to be spanked," said the Major, in his high-keyed -voice. "A girl who had not rather hear from home than spin around with -him ought not to have a home. I'm going to mine rather early tonight. I -came only to show the boys how to make my famous Kentucky punch." - -When the Major and Miss Ida Bishop had gone and left them together, -Adele looked over the railing at the big clock in the office. "We have -only a few minutes longer--if you are to take that train," she said, -regretfully. - -"I never had as little interest in trains in my life," he said. And he -meant it. - -"Not in the trains on our new road?" she laughed. - -"They are too far ahead to interfere with my comfort," he retorted. -"This one is a steam nightmare." - -"I presume you really could not miss it?" Her long-lashed eyes were -down. - -He hesitated; the simple thought suggested by her thrilled him as he had -never been thrilled before. - -"Because," she added, "it would be so nice to have you come out -to-morrow afternoon to tea, about four." - -He drew out his watch and looked at it waveringly. - -"I could send a night message," he said, finally. "I really don't want -to go. Miss Adele, I don't want to go at all." - -"I don't want you to either," she said, softly. "It seems almost as if -we are quite old friends. Isn't that strange?" - -He restored his watch to his pocket. "I shall stay," he said, "and I -shall call to-morrow afternoon." - -Some one came for her a few minutes later, and he went down to the -office and out into the street. He wanted to walk, to feel his body in -action, keeping pace with his throbbing, bounding brain. His whole being -was aflame with a fire which had never burned in him before. - -"Alan' s little sister!" he kept repeating to himself. "Little -Adele--she's wonderful, wonderful! Perhaps she may be _the_ woman. By -George! she _is_--she _is!_ A creature like that, with that soul full -of appreciation for a man' s best efforts, would lift a fellow to the -highest rung on the ladder of human effort. Alan's little sister! And -the idiot never told me, never intimated that she was--a goddess." - -In his room at the hotel that night he slept little, his brain being -so active with his new experience. He saw her the next afternoon alone, -over a dainty tea-service of fragile china, in a Turkish corner in -William Bishop's great, quiet, house, and then proposed driving her the -next day to the Driving Club. He remained a week, seeing her, under some -pretext or other, every day during that time. Sometimes it was to call -with her on friends of hers. Once it was to attend a barbecue given by -Captain Burton at a club-house in the country, and once he gave her and -her cousin a luncheon at the Capitol City Club with a box at the matinée -afterwards. He told himself that he had never lived before, and that, -somehow, he was just beginning. - -"No," he mused, as he sat in his train homeward bound. "I can't tell -Alan. I simply couldn't do it, after all the rubbish I have crammed into -him. Then she's his sister. I couldn't talk to him about her--not now, -anyway." - - - - -XXI - - -[Illustration: 9183] - -M glad you got back." Rayburn's sister, Mrs. Lampson, said to him at -breakfast the morning following his return on the midnight train. "We -are having a glorious meeting at our church." - -"Oh, is that so?" said the young man, sipping his coffee. "Who is -conducting it?" - -"Brother Maynell," answered Mrs. Lampson, enthusiastically, a tinge of -color in her wan, thin face. "He's a travelling evangelist, who has -been conducting revivals all over the South. It is really remarkable the -interest he has stirred up. We are holding prayer-meetings morning and -afternoon, though only the ladies meet in the afternoon. I conducted the -meeting yesterday." - -"Oh no; did you, really? Why, sis--" - -"Don't begin to poke fun at me," said Mrs. Lamp-son. "I know I didn't -do as well as some of the others, but I did the best I could, because I -felt it was my duty." - -"I was not going to make fun," said Miller, soothingly; "but it seems -mighty strange to think of you standing up before all the rest, and--" - -"It was not such a very hard thing to do," said the lady, who was older -than her brother by ten years. She had gray hairs at her temples, and -looked generally as if she needed out-door exercise and some diversion -to draw her out of herself. - -Rayburn helped himself to the deliciously browned, fried chicken, in its -bed of cream gravy, and a hot puffy biscuit. - -"And how does Mr. Lapsley, the regular preacher, like this innovation?" -he questioned. "I reckon you all pay the new man a fee for stirring -things up?" - -"Yes; we agreed to give him two hundred dollars, half of which goes to -an orphan asylum he is building. Oh, I don't think brother Lapsley -minds much, but of course it must affect him a little to see the great -interest brother Maynell has roused, and I suppose some are mean enough -to think he could have done the same, if he had tried." - -"No, it's clearly a case of a new broom," smiled Rayburn, buttering his -biscuit. "Old Lap might get up there and groan and whine for a week -and not touch a mourner with a ten-foot pole. The other chap knows his -business, and part of his business is not to stay long enough to wear -out his pet phrases or exhaust his rockets. I'm sorry for Lapsley; he's -paid a regular salary, and is not good for any other sort of work, and -this shows him up unfairly. In the long run, I believe he 'll get as many -into the church as the other man, and they will be more apt to stick. -Sister, that's the trouble with these tin-pan revivals. The biggest -converts backslide. I reckon you are working over old material now." - -Mrs. Lampson frowned and her lip stiffened. - -"I don't like your tone in speaking of such things," she said. "Indeed, -Rayburn, I have been deeply mortified in the last week by some remarks -that have been made about you. I didn't intend to mention them, but you -make me do it." - -"Oh, I knew they wouldn't let me rest," said Miller; "they never do in -their annual shake-ups." - -"Brother, you are looked on by nearly all religious workers in town as -a dangerous young man--I mean dangerous to the boys who are just growing -up, because they all regard you as a sort of standard to shape their -conduct by. They see you going to balls and dances and playing cards, -and they think it is smart and will not be interested in our meetings. -They see that you live and seem to prosper under it, and they follow in -your footsteps. I am afraid you don't realize the awful example you are -setting. Brother May-nell has heard of you and asked me about you the -other day. Some people think you have been in Atlanta all this time to -avoid the meeting." - -"I didn't know it was going on," said Miller, testily. "I assure you I -never run from a thing like that. The best thing to do is to add fuel to -the fire--it burns out quicker." - -"Well, you will go out to meeting, won't you?" insisted the sweet-voiced -woman. "You won't have them all thinking you have no respect for the -religion of our father and mother--will you?" - -Rayburn squirmed under this close fire. - -"I shall go occasionally when there is _preaching_," he said, -reluctantly. "I would be out of place at one of the--the knock-down and -drag-out shouting-bees." Then, seeing her look of horror at the words -which had unthoughtedly glided from his lips, he strove to make amends. -"Oh, sister, do--_do_ be reasonable, and look at it from my point of -view. I don't believe that's the way to serve God or beautify the world. -I believe in being happy in one's own way, just so that you don't tread -on the rights of other people." - -"But," said Mrs. Lampson, her eyes flashing, "you _are_ treading on -the rights of others. They are trying to save the souls of the rising -generation in the community, and you and your social set use your -influence in the other direction." - -"But what about the rights of my social set, if you want to call it -by that name?" Miller retorted, warmly. "We have the right to enjoy -ourselves in our way, just as you have in yours. We don't interfere--we -never ask you to close up shop so we can have a dance or a picnic, but -you do. If we dare give a party while some revivalist is filling his -pockets in town the revivalist jumps on us publicly and holds us up as -examples of headlong plungers into fiery ruin. There is not a bit of -justice or human liberty in that, and you 'll never reach a certain -element till you quit such a course. Last year one of the preachers in -this town declared in the pulpit that a girl could not be pure and dance -a round dance. It raised the very devil in the hearts of the young men, -who knew he was a dirty liar, and they got up as many dances out of -spite as they possibly could. In fact, some of them came near knocking -the preacher down on the street. I am a conservative sort of fellow, but -I secretly wished that somebody would slug that man in the jaw." - -"I'm really afraid you are worse than ever," sighed Mrs. Lampson. "I -don't know what to do with you." She laughed good-naturedly as she rose -and stood behind his chair, touching his head tenderly. "It really does -make me rather mad," she confessed, "to hear them making you out such a -bad stripe when I know what a wonderful man you really are for your age. -I really believe some of them are jealous of your success and standing, -but I do want you to be more religious." When Miller reached his office -about ten o' clock and had opened the door he noticed that Craig's bank -on the corner across the street was still closed. It was an unusual -occurrence at that hour and it riveted Miller's attention. Few people -were on the street, and none of them seemed to have noticed it. -The church-bell in the next block was ringing for the revivalist's -prayer-meeting, and Miller saw the merchants and lawyers hurrying by on -their way to worship. Miller stood in his front door and bowed to them -as they passed. Trabue hustled out of his office, pulling the door to -with a jerk. - -"Prayer-meeting?" he asked, glancing at Miller. - -"No, not to-day," answered Miller; "got some writing to do." - -"That preacher's a hummer," said the old lawyer. "I've never seen his -equal. He'd 'a' made a bang-up criminal lawyer. Why, they say old Joe -Murphy's converted--got out of his bed at midnight and went to Tim -Slocum's house to get 'im to pray for 'im. He's denied thar was a God -all his life till now. I say a preacher's worth two hundred to a town if -it can do that sort of work." - -"He's certainly worth it to Slocum," said Miller, with a smile. "If I'd -been denying there was a God as long as he has, I'd pay more than that -to get rid of the habit. Slocum's able, and I think he ought to foot -that preacher's bill." - -"You are a tough customer, Miller," said Trabue, with a knowing laugh. -"You'd better look out--May-nell's got an eye on you. He 'll call out -yore name some o' these days, an' ask us to pray fer you." - -"I was just wondering if there's anything wrong with Craig," said -Miller. "I see his door's not open." - -"Oh, I reckon not," said the old lawyer. "He's been taking part in the -meeting. He may have overslept." - -There was a grocery-store near Miller's office, and the proprietor came -out on the sidewalk and joined the two men. His name was Barnett. He was -a powerful man, who stood six feet five in his boots; he wore no coat, -and his suspenders were soiled and knotted. - -"I see you-uns is watchin' Craig's door," he said. "I've had my eye on -it ever since breakfast. I hardly know what to make of it. I went -thar to buy some New York exchange to pay for a bill o' flour, but he -wouldn't let me in. I know he's thar, for I seed 'im go in about an -hour ago. I mighty nigh shook the door off'n the hinges. His clerk, that -Western fellow, Win-ship, has gone off to visit his folks, an' I reckon -maybe Craig's got all the book-keepin' to do." - -"Well, he oughtn't to keep his doors closed at this time of day," -remarked Miller. "A man who has other people's money in his charge can' -t be too careful." - -"He's got some o' mine," said the grocer, "and Mary Ann Tarpley, my -wife's sister, put two hundred thar day before yesterday. Oh, I reckon -nothin' s wrong, though I do remember I heerd somebody say Craig bought -cotton futures an' sometimes got skeerd up a little about meetin' his -obligations." - -"I have never heard that," said Rayburn Miller, raising his brows. - -"Well, I have, an' I've heerd the same o' Winship," said the grocer, -"but I never let it go no furder. I ain't no hand to circulate ill -reports agin a good member of the church." - -Miller bit his lip and an unpleasant thrill passed over him as Trabue -walked on. "Twenty-five thousand," he thought, "is no small amount. It -would tempt five men out of ten if they were inclined to go wrong, and -were in a tight." - -The grocer was looking at him steadily. - -"You bank thar, don't you?" he asked. - -Miller nodded: "But I happen to have no money there right now. I made a -deposit at the other bank yesterday." - -"Suspicious, heigh? Now jest a little, wasn't you?" The grocer now spoke -with undisguised uneasiness. - -"Not at all," replied the lawyer. "I was doing some business for the -other bank, and felt that I ought to favor them by my cash deposits." - -"You don't think thar's anything the matter, do you?" asked the grocer, -his face still hardening. - -"I think Craig is acting queerly--very queerly for a banker," was -Miller's slow reply. "He has always been most particular to open up -early and--" - -"Hello," cried out a cheery voice, that of the middle-aged proprietor -of the Darley Flouring Mills, emerging from Barnett's store. "I see -you fellows have your eye on Craig's front. If he was a drinking man we -might suspicion he'd been on a tear last night, wouldn't we?" - -"It looks damned shaky to me," retorted the grocer, growing more -excited. "I'm goin' over there an' try that door again. A man 'at has my -money can't attract the attention Craig has an' me say nothin'." - -The miller pulled his little turf of gray beard and winked at Rayburn. - -"You been scarin' Barnett," he said, with a tentative inflection. "He's -easily rattled. By-the-way, now that I think of it, it does seem to me -I heard some of the Methodists talkin' about reproving Craig an' Winship -for speculatin' in grain and cotton. I know they've been dabblin' in -it, for Craig always got my market reports. He's been dealin' with a -bucket-shop in Atlanta." - -"I'm going over there," said Miller, abruptly, and he hurried across in -the wake of the big grocer. The miller followed him. On the other side -of the street several people were curiously watching the bank door, and -when Barnett went to it and grasped the handle and began to shake it -vigorously they crossed over to him. - -"What's wrong?" said a dealer in fruits, a short, thick-set man with a -florid face; but Barnett's only reply was another furious shaking of the -door. - -"Why, man, what's got into you?" protested the fruit-dealer, in a rising -tone of astonishment. "Do you intend to break that door down?" - -"I will if that damned skunk don't open it an' give me my money," said -Barnett, who was now red in the face and almost foaming at the mouth. -"He's back in thar, an' he knows it's past openin' time. By gum! I know -more 'n I'm goin' to tell right now." - -This was followed by another rattling of the door, and the grocer's -enormous weight, like a battering-ram, was thrown against the heavy -walnut shutter. - -"Open up, I say--open up in thar!" yelled the grocer, in a voice hoarse -with passion and suspense. - -A dozen men were now grouped around the doorway. Barnett released the -handle and stood facing them. - -"Somethin' s rotten in Denmark," he panted. "Believe me or not, fellows, -I know a thing or two. This bank's in a bad fix." - -A thrill of horror shot through Miller. The words had the ring of -conviction. Alan Bishop's money was in bad hands if it was there at all. -Suddenly he saw a white, trembling hand fumbling with the lower part of -the close-drawn window-shade, as if some one were about to raise it; but -the shade remained down, the interior still obscured. It struck Miller -as being a sudden impulse, defeated by fear of violence. There was a -pause. Then the storm broke again. About fifty men had assembled, all -wild to know what was wrong. Miller elbowed his way to the door and -stood on the step, slightly raised above the others, Barnett by his -side. "Let me speak to him," he said, pacifically. Barnett yielded -doggedly, and Rayburn put his lips to the crack between the two -folding-doors. - -"Mr. Craig!" he called out--"Mr. Craig!" - -There was no reply, but Rayburn heard the rustling of paper on the -inside near the crack against which his ear was pressed, and then the -edge of a sheet of writing-paper was slowly shoved through. Rayburn -grasped it, lifting it above a dozen outstretched hands. "Hold on!" he -cried, authoritatively. "Til read it." The silence of the grave fell on -the crowd as the young man began to read. - -"Friends and citizens," the note ran, "Winship has absconded with every -dollar in the vaults, except about two hundred dollars in my small safe. -He has been gone two days, I thought on a visit to his kinfolks. I have -just discovered the loss. I'm completely ruined, and am now trying to -make out a report of my condition. Have mercy on an old man." - -Rayburn's face was as white as that of a corpse. The paper dropped from -his hand and he stepped down into the crowd. He was himself no loser, -but the Bishops had lost their all. How could he break the news to them? -Presently he began to hope faintly that old Bishop might, within the -last week, have drawn out at least part of the money, but that hope was -soon discarded, for he remembered that the old man was waiting to invest -the greater part of the deposit in some Shoal Creek Cotton Mill stock -which had been promised him in a few weeks. No, the hope was groundless. -Alan, his father, Mrs. Bishop, and--Adele--Miller's heart sank down into -the very ooze of despair. All that he had done for Adele's people, and -which had roused her deepest, tenderest gratitude, was swept away. What -would she think now? - -His train of thought was rudely broken by an oath from Barnett, who, -with the rage of a madman, suddenly threw his shoulder against the door. -There was a crash, a groan of bursting timber and breaking bolts, and -the door flew open. For one instant Miller saw the ghastly face and -cowering form of the old banker behind the wire-grating, and then, with -a scream of terror, Craig ran into a room in the rear, and thence made -his escape at a door opening on the side street. The mob filled the -bank, and did not discover Craig's escape for a minute; then, with a -howl of rage, it surged back into the street. Craig was ahead of them, -running towards the church, where prayer-meeting-was being held, the -tails of his long frock-coat flying behind him, his worn silk hat in his -convulsive grasp. - -"Thar he goes!" yelled Barnett, and he led the mob after him, all -running at the top of their speed without realizing why they were doing -so. They gained on the fleeing banker, and Barnett could almost touch -him when they reached the church. With a cry of fear, like that of a -wild animal brought to bay, Craig sprang up the steps and ran into the -church, crying and groaning for help. - -A dozen men and women and children were kneeling at the altar to get the -benefit of the prayers of the ministers and the congregation, but they -stood up in alarm, some of them with wet faces. - -The mob checked itself at the door, but the greater part of it crowded -into the two aisles, a motley human mass, many of them without coats or -hats. The travelling evangelist seemed shocked out of expression; but -the pastor, Mr. Lapsley, who was an old Confederate soldier, and used to -scenes of violence, stood calmly facing them. - -"What's all this mean?" he asked. - -"I came here for protection," whined Craig, "to my own church and -people. This mob wants to kill me--tear me limb from limb." - -"But what's wrong?" asked the preacher. - -"Winship," panted Craig, his white head hanging down as he stood -touching the altar railing--"Win-ship's absconded with all the money -in my vault. I'm ruined. These people want me to give up what I haven't -got. Oh, God knows, I would refund every cent if I had it!" - -"You shall have our protection," said the minister, calmly. "They won't -violate the sacredness of the house of God by raising a row. You are -safe here, brother Craig. I'm sure all reasonable people will not blame -you for the fault of another." - -"I believe he's got my money," cried out Barnett, in a coarse, sullen -voice, "and the money of some o' my women folks that's helpless, and -he's got to turn it over. Oh, he's got money some'r's, I 'll bet on -that!" - -"The law is your only recourse, Mr. Barnett," said the preacher, calmly. -"Even now you are laying yourself liable to serious prosecution for -threatening a man with bodily injury when you can't prove he's wilfully -harmed you." - -The words told on the mob, many of them being only small depositors, -and Barnett found himself without open support. He was silent. Rayburn -Miller, who had come up behind the mob and was now in the church, went -to Craig's side. Many thought he was proffering his legal services. - -"One word, Mr. Craig," he said, touching the quivering arm of the -banker. - -"Oh, you're no loser," said Craig, turning on him. "There was nothing to -your credit." - -"I know that," whispered Miller, "but as attorney for the Bishops, I -have a right to ask if their money is safe." The eyes of the banker went -to the ground. - -"It's gone--every cent of it!" he said. "It was their money that tempted -Winship. He'd never seen such a large pile at once." - -"You don't mean--" But Miller felt the utter futility of the question on -his tongue and turned away. Outside he met Jeff Dukes, one of the town -marshals, who had been running, and was very red in the face and out of -breath. - -"Is that mob in thar?" he asked. - -"Yes, and quiet now," said Miller. "Let them alone; the important thing -is to put the police on Winship's track. Come back down-town." - -"I 'll have to git the particulars from Craig fust," said Dukes. "Are you -loser?" - -"No, but some of my clients are, and I'm ready to stand any expense to -catch the thief." - -"Well, I 'll see you in a minute, and we 'll heat all the wires out of -town. I 'll see you in a minute." - -Farther down the street Miller met Dolly Barclay. She had come straight -from her home, in an opposite direction from the bank, and had evidently -not heard the news. - -"I'm on my way to prayer-meeting," she smiled. "I'm getting good to -please the old folks, but--" She noticed his pale face. "What is the -matter? Has anything--" - -"Craig's bank has failed," Rayburn told her briefly. "He says Winship -has absconded with all the cash in the vaults." - -Dolly stared aghast. "And you--you--" - -"I had no money there," broke in Miller. "I was fortunate enough to -escape." - -"But Alan--Mr. Bishop?" She was studying his face and pondering his -unwonted excitement. "Had they money there?" - -Miller did not answer, but she would not be put aside. - -"Tell me," she urged--"tell me that." - -"If I do, it's in absolute confidence," he said, with professional -firmness. "No one must know--not a soul--that they were depositors, for -much depends on it. If Wilson knew they were hard up he might drive them -to the wall. They were not only depositors, but they lose every cent -they have--twenty-five thousand dollars in a lump." - -He saw her catch her breath, and her lips moved mutely, as if repeating -the words he had just spoken. "Poor Alan!" he heard her say. "This is -too, _too_ much, after all he has gone through." - -Miller touched his hat and started on, but she joined him, keeping by -his side like a patient, pleading child. He marvelled over her strength -and wonderful poise. "I am taking you out of your way, Miss Dolly," he -said, gently, more gently than he had ever spoken to her before. - -"I only want to know if Alan has heard. Do--do tell me that." - -"No, he's at home. I shall ride out as soon as I get the matter in the -hands of the police." - -She put out her slender, shapely hand and touched his arm. - -"Tell him," she said, in a low, uncertain voice, "that it has broken my -heart. Tell him I love him more than I ever did, and that I shall stick -to him always." - -Miller turned and took off his hat, giving her his hand. - -"And I believe you will do it," he said. "He's a lucky dog, even if he -_has_ just struck the ceiling. I know him, and your message will soften -the blow. But it's awful, simply awful! I can't now see how they can -possibly get from under it." - -"Well, tell him," said Dolly, with a little, soundless sob in her -throat--"tell him what I told you." - - - - -XXII - - -[Illustration: 9196] - -HAT afternoon the breeze swerved round from the south, bringing vague -threats About three o' clock Alan, his his mother and father were in the -front yard, looking at the house, with a view to making some alterations -that had been talked of for several years past. - -"I never had my way in anything before," Mrs. Bishop was running on, in -the pleased voice of a happy child, "and I'm glad you are goin' to -let me this once. I want the new room to jut out on this side from -the parlor, and have a bay-window, and we must cut a wide foldin'-door -between the two rooms. Then the old veranda comes down and the new one -must have a double floor, like Colonel Sprague's on the river, except -ours will have round, white columns instead o' square, if they do cost a -trifle more." - -"She knows what she wants," said Bishop, with one of his infrequent -smiles, "and I reckon we'd save a little to let her boss the job, ef she -don't hender the carpenters by too much talk. I don't want 'em to put in -a stick o' lumber that ain't the best." - -"I'm glad she's going to have her way," said Alan. "She's wanted a -better house for twenty years, and she deserves it." - -"I don't believe in sech fine feathers," said Bishop, argumentatively. -"I'd a leetle ruther wait till we see whether Wilson's a-goin' to put -that road through--then we _could_ afford to put on a dab or two o' -style. I don't know but I'd move down to Atlanta an' live alongside o' -Bill, an' wear a claw-hammer coat an' a dicky cravat fer a change." - -"Then you mought run fer the legislatur'," spoke up Abner Daniel, who -had been an amused listener, "an' git up a law to pen up mad dogs at -the dangerous part o' the yeer. Alf, I've always thought you'd be a' -ornament to the giddy whirl down thar. William was ever' bit as green -as you are when he fust struck the town. But he had the advantage o' -growin' up an' sorter ripenin' with the place. It ud be hard on you at -yore time o' life." - -At this juncture Alan called their attention to a horseman far down the -road. "It looks like Ray Miller's mare," he remarked. "This is one of -his busy days; he can' t be coming to fish." - -"Railroad news," suggested Abner. "It's a pity you hain't connected by -telegraph." - -They were all now sure that it was Miller, and with no little curiosity -they moved nearer the gate. - -"By gum! he's been givin' his mare the lash," said Abner. "She's fairly -kivered with froth." - -"Hello, young man," Alan called out, as Miller dismounted at a -hitching-post just outside the fence and fastened his bridle-rein. "Glad -to see you; come in." - -Miller bowed and smiled as he opened the gate and came forward to shake -hands. - -"We are certainly glad you came, Mr. Miller," said Mrs. Bishop, with all -her quaint cordiality. "Ever since that day in the office I've wanted a -chance to show you how much we appreciate what you done fer us. Brother -Ab will bear me out when I say we speak of it mighty nigh ever'day." - -Miller wore an inexpressible look of embarrassment, which he tried to -lose in the act of shaking hands all round the group, but his platitudes -fell to the ground. Abner, the closest observer among them, already had -his brows drawn together as he pondered Miller's unwonted lack of ease. - -"Bring any fishing-tackle?" asked Alan. - -"No, I didn't," said the lawyer, jerking himself to that subject -awkwardly. "The truth is, I only ran out for a little ride. I've got to -get back." - -"Then it _is_ business, as brother Ab said," put in Mrs. Bishop, -tentatively. - -Miller lowered his eyes to the ground and then raised them to Alan's -face. - -"Yes, it's railroad business," said Abner, his voice vibrant with -suspense. - -"And it's not favorable," said Alan, bravely. "I can see that by your -looks." - -Miller glanced at his mare, and lashed the leg of his top-boots with his -riding-whip. "No, I have bad news, but it's not about the railroad. I -could have written, but I thought I'd better come myself." - -"Adele!" gasped Mrs. Bishop. "You have heard--" - -"No, she's well," said Miller. "It's about the money you put in Craig's -bank." - -"What about that?" burst from old Bishop's startled lips. - -"Craig claims Winship has absconded with all the cash. The bank has -failed." - -"Failed!" The word was a moan from Bishop, and for a moment no one -spoke. A negro woman at the wash-place behind the house was using -a batting-stick on some clothing, and the dull blows came to them -distinctly. - -"Is that so, Ray?" asked Alan, calm but pale to the lips. - -"I'm sorry to say it is." - -"Can anything at all be done?" - -"I've done everything possible already. We have been telegraphing the -Atlanta police all morning about tracing Winship, but they don't seem -much interested. They think he's had too big a start on us. You see, -he's been gone two days and nights. Craig says he thought he was on a -visit to relatives till he discovered the loss last night." - -"It simply spells ruin, old man," said Alan, grimly. "I can see that." - -Miller said nothing for a moment--then: - -"It's just as bad as it could be, my boy," he said. "I see no reason -to raise false hopes. There is a strong feeling against Craig, and -no little suspicion, owing to the report that he has been speculating -heavily, but he has thrown himself on the protection of his church, and -even some of his fellow-members, who lose considerably, are standing by -him." - -Here old Bishop, with compressed lips, turned and walked unsteadily into -the house. With head hanging low and eyes flashing strangely, his -wife followed him. At the steps she paused, her sense of hospitality -transcending her despair. "You must stay to early supper, anyway, Mr. -Miller," she said. "You could ride back in the cool o' the evening." - -"Thank you, but I must hurry right back, Mrs. Bishop," Miller said. - -"And Dolly--does she know?" asked Alan, when his mother had disappeared -and Abner had walked to the hitching-post, and stood as if thoughtfully -inspecting Miller's mare. Miller told him of their conversation that -morning, and Alan' s face grew tender and more resigned. - -"She's a brick!" said Miller. "She's a woman I now believe in -thoroughly--she and one other." - -"Then there _is_ another?" asked Alan, almost cheerfully, as an effect -of the good news that had accompanied the bad. - -"Yes. I see things somewhat differently of late," admitted Miller, in -an evasive, non-committal tone. "Dolly Barclay opened my eyes, and when -they were open I saw--well, the good qualities of some one else. I may -tell you about her some day, but I shall not now. Get your horse and -come to town with me. We must be ready for any emergency." - -Abner Daniel came towards them. "I don't want to harm nobody's -character," he said; "but whar my own kin is concerned, I'm up an' wide -awake. I don't know what you think, but I hain't got a speck o' faith -in Craig hisse'f. He done me a low, sneakin' trick once that I ketched -up with. He swore it was a mistake, but it wasn't. He's a bad egg--you -mind what I say; he won't do." - -"It may be as you say, Mr. Daniel," returned Miller, with a lawyer's -reserve on a point unsubstantiated by evidence, "but even if he has the -money hidden away, how are we to get it from him?" - -"I'd find a way," retorted Daniel, hotly, "so I would." - -"We 'll do all we can," said Miller. - -Daniel strode into the house and Alan went after his horse. Miller stood -at the gate, idly tapping his boot with his whip. - -"Poor Mrs. Bishop!" he said, his eyes on the house; "how very much she -resembled Adele just now, and she is bearing it just like the little -girl would. I reckon they 'll write her the bad news. I wish I was there -to--soften the blow. It will wring her heart." - - - - -XXIII - - -[Illustration: 9201] - -HAT evening after supper the family remained, till bedtime, in the big, -bare-looking dining-room, the clean, polished floors of which gleamed in -the light of a little fire in the big chimney. Bishop's chair was tilted -back against the wall in a dark corner, and Mrs. Bishop sat knitting -mechanically. Abner was reading--or trying to read--a weekly paper at -the end of the dining-table, aided by a dimly burning glass-lamp. Aunt -Maria had removed the dishes and, with no little splash and clatter, was -washing them in the adjoining kitchen. - -Suddenly Abner laid down his paper and began to try to console them for -their loss. Mrs. Bishop listened patiently, but Bishop sat in the very -coma of despair, unconscious of what was going on around him. - -"Alf," Abner called out, sharply, "don't you remember what a -close-fisted scamp I used to be about the time you an' Betsy fust -hitched together?" - -"No, I don't," said the man addressed, almost with a growl at being -roused from what could not have been pleasant reflections. - -"I remember folks said you was the stingiest one in our family," struck -in Mrs. Bishop, plaintively. "Law me! I hain't thought of it from that -day to this. It seems powerful funny now to think of you havin' sech a -reputation, but I railly believe you had it once." - -"An' I deserved it," Abner folded his paper, and rapped with it on the -table. "You know, Betsy, our old daddy was as close as they make 'em; he -had a rope tied to every copper he had, an' I growed up thinkin' it was -the only safe course in life. I was too stingy to buy ginger-cake an' -cider at camp-meetin' when I was dyin' fer it. I've walked round an' -round a old nigger woman's stand twenty times with a dry throat an' my -fingers on a slick dime, an' finally made tracks fer the nighest spring. -I had my eyes opened to stinginess bein' ungodly by noticin' its effect -on pa. He was a natural human bein' till a body tetched his pocket, -an' then he was a rantin' devil. I got to thinkin' I'd be like 'im by -inheritance ef I didn't call a halt, an' I begun tryin' in various ways -to reform. I remember I lent money a little freer than I had, which -wasn't sayin' much, fer thar was a time when I wouldn't 'a' sold a man -a postage-stamp on a credit ef he'd 'a' left it stuck to the back o' my -neck fer security. - -"But I 'll tell you how I made my fust great big slide towards -reformation. It tuck my breath away, an' lots o' my money; but I did it -with my eyes open. I was jest a-thinkin' a minute ago that maybe ef I -told you-uns about how little it hurt me to give it up you mought sleep -better to-night over yore own shortage. Alf, are you listenin'?" - -"Yes, I heerd what you said," mumbled Bishop. - -Abner cleared his throat, struck at a moth with his paper, and -continued: "Betsy, you remember our cousin, Jimmy Bartow? You never -knowed 'im well, beca'se you an' Alf was livin' on Holly Creek about -that time, an' he was down in our neighborhood. He never was wuth -shucks, but he twisted his mustache an' greased his hair an' got 'im a -wife as easy as fallin' off a log. He got to clerkin' fer old Joe Mason -in his store at the cross-roads, and the sight o' so much change passin' -through his fingers sort o' turned his brain. He tuck to drinking an' -tryin' to dress his wife fine, an' one thing or other, that made -folks talk. He was our double fust cousin, you know, an' we tuck a big -interest in 'im on that account. After a while old Joe begun to miss -little dribs o' cash now an' then, an' begun to keep tab on Jimmy, an' -'fore the young scamp knowed it, he was ketched up with as plain as day. - -"Old Joe made a calculation that Jimmy had done 'im, fust and last, to -the tune of about five hundred dollars, an' told Jimmy to set down by -the stove an' wait fer the sheriff. - -"Jimmy knowed he could depend on the family pride, an' he sent fer all -the kin fer miles around. It raised a awful rumpus, fer not one o' our -stock an' generation had ever been jailed, an' the last one of us didn't -want it to happen. I reckon we was afeerd ef it once broke out amongst -us it mought become a epidemic. They galloped in on the'r hosses an' -mules, an' huddled around Mason. They closed his doors, back an' front, -an' patted 'im on the back, an' talked about the'r trade an' influence, -an' begged 'im not to prefer charges; but old Joe stood as solid as -a rock. He said a thief was a thief, ef you spelt it back'ards or -for'ards, or ef he was akin to a king or a corn-fiel' nigger. He said -it was, generally, the bigger the station the bigger the thief. Old Joe -jest set at his stove an' chawed tobacco an' spit. Now an' then he'd -stick his hands down in his pockets an' rip out a oath. Then Jimmy's -young wife come with her little teensy baby, an' set down by Jimmy, -skeerd mighty nigh out of 'er life. Looked like the baby was skeerd too, -fer it never cried ur moved. Then the sheriff driv' up in his buggy an' -come in clinkin' a pair o' handcuffs. He seed what they was all up to -an' stood back to see who would win, Jimmy's kin or old Joe. All at once -I tuck notice o' something that made me madder'n a wet hen. They all -knowed I had money laid up, an' they begun to ax old Mason ef I'd put -up the five hundred dollars would he call it off. I was actu'ly so mad -I couldn't speak. Old Joe said he reckoned, seein' that they was all so -turribly set back, that he'd do it ef I was willin'. The Old Nick got -in me then as big as a side of a house, an' I give the layout about -the toughest talk they ever had. It didn't faze 'em much, fer all they -wanted was to git Jimmy free, an' so they tuck another tack. Ef they'd -git up half amongst 'em all, would I throw in t'other half? That, ef -anything, made me madder. I axed 'em what they tuck me fer--did I look -like a durn fool? An' did they think beca'se they was sech fools I was -one? - -"Old Tommy Todd, Jimmy's own uncle, was thar, but he never had a word to -say. He jest set an' smoked his pipe an' looked about, but he wouldn't -open his mouth when they'd ax him a question. He was knowed to be sech a -skinflint that nobody seemed to count on his help at all, an' he looked -like he was duly thankful fer his reputation to hide behind in sech a -pressure. - -"Then they lit into me, an' showed me up in a light I'd never appeared -in before. They said I was the only man thar without a family to -support, an' the only one thar with ready cash in the bank, an' that -ef I'd let my own double fust cousin be jailed, I was a disgrace to 'em -all. They'd not nod to me in the big road, an' ud use the'r influence -agin my stayin' in the church an' eventually gittin' into the kingdom o' -Heaven. I turned from man to devil right thar. I got up on the head of a -tater-barrel behind the counter, an' made the blamedest speech that ever -rolled from a mouth inspired by iniquity. I picked 'em out one by one -an' tore off their shirts, an' chawed the buttons. The only one I let -escape was old Tommy; he never give me a chance to hit him. Then I -finally come down to the prisoner at the bar an' I larruped him. Ever' -time I'd give a yell, Jimmy ud duck his head, an' his wife ud huddle -closer over the baby like she was afeerd splinters ud git in its eyes. I -made fun of 'em till I jest had to quit. Then they turned the'r backs -on me an' begun to figure on doin' without my aid. It was mortgage -this, an' borrow this, an' sell this hoss or wagon or mule or cow, an' a -turrible wrangle. I seed they was gittin' down to business an' left 'em. - -"I noticed old Tommy make his escape, an' go out an' unhitch his hoss, -but he didn't mount. Looked like he 'lowed he was at least entitled to -carryin' the news home, whether he he'ped or not. I went to the spring -at the foot o' the rise an' set down. I didn't feel right. In fact, I -felt meaner than I ever had in all my life, an' couldn't 'a' told -why. Somehow I felt all at once ef they did git Jimmy out o' hock an' -presented 'im to his wife an' baby without me a-chippin' in, I'd never -be able to look at 'em without remorse, an' I did think a lots o' Jimmy's -wife an' baby. I set thar watchin' the store about as sorry as a proud -sperit kin feel after a big rage. Fust I'd hope they'd git up the -required amount, an' then I'd almost hope they wouldn't. Once I actually -riz to go offer my share, but the feer that it ud be refused stopped me. -On the whole, I think I was in the mud about as deep as Jimmy was in the -mire, an' I hadn't tuck nobody's money nuther. All at once I begun to -try to see some way out o' my predicament. They wouldn't let me chip in, -but I wondered ef they'd let me pay it all. I believed they would, an' -I was about to hurry in the store when I was balked by the thought -that folks would say I was a born idiot to be payin' my lazy, triflin' -kinfolks out o' the consequences o' the'r devilment; so I set down agin, -an' had another wrastle. I seed old Tommy standin' by his hoss chawin' -his ridin'-switch an' watchin' the door. All at once he looked mighty -contemptible, an' it struck me that I wasn't actin' one bit better, so I -ris an' plunged fer the door. Old Tommy ketched my arm as I was about to -pass 'im an' said, 'What you goin' to do, Ab?' An' I said, 'Uncle Tommy, -I'm a-goin' to pay that boy out ef they 'll let me.' - -"'You don't say,' the old fellow grunted, lookin' mighty funny, an' he -slid in the store after me. Somehow I wasn't afeerd o' nothin' with -or without shape. I felt like I was walkin' on air in the brightest, -saftest sunshine I ever felt. They was all huddled over Mason's desk -still a-figurin' an' a-complainin' at the uneven division. Jimmy -set thar with his head ducked an' his young wife was tryin' to fix -some'n' about the baby. She looked like she'd been cryin.'I got up on my -tater-barrel an' knocked on the wall with a axe-handle to attract the'r -attention. Then I begun. I don't know what I said, or how it sounded, -but I seed Jimmy raise his head an' look, an' his wife push back her -poke-bonnet an' stare like I'd been raised from the grave. Along with my -request to be allowed to foot the whole bill, I said I wanted to do it -beca'se I believed I could show Jimmy an' his wife that I was doin' -it out o' genuine regard fer 'em both, an' that I wanted 'em to take -a hopeful new start an' not be depressed. Well, sir, it was like an -avalanche. I never in all my life seed sech a knocked-out gang. Nobody -wanted to talk. The sheriff looked like he was afeerd his handcuffs ud -jingle, an' Jimmy bu'st out cryin'. His wife sobbed till you could -'a' heerd her to the spring. She sprung up an' fetched me her baby an' -begged me to kiss it. With her big glad eyes, an' the tears in 'em, she -looked nigher an angel than any human bein' I ever looked at. Jimmy went -out the back way wipin' his eyes, an' I went to Mason's desk to write -him a check fer the money. He come to my elbow an' looked troubled. - -"'I said it was five hundred dollars,'said he, 'but I was sorter -averagin' the loss. I ain't a-goin' to run no risks in a matter like -this. I'd feel better to call it four hundred. You see, Jimmy's been a -sort o' standby with me, an' has fetched me lots o' trade. Make it four -hundred and I 'll keep 'im. I don't believe he 'll ever git wrong agin.' - -"And Jimmy never did. He stayed thar for five yeer on a stretch, an' -was the best clerk in the county. I was paid a thousandfold. I never met -them two in my life that they didn't look jest like they thought I was -all right, an' that made me feel like I was to some extent. Old Tommy, -though, was the funniest thing about it. He bored me mighty nigh to -death. He'd come to my cabin whar I was livin' at the time an' set by my -fire an' smoke an' never say hardly a word. It looked like some 'n' was -on his mind, an' he couldn't git it off. One night when he'd stayed -longer 'n usual, I pinned 'im down an' axed 'im what was the matter. He -got up quick an' said nothin' aileded 'im, but he stopped at the fence -an' called me out. He was as white as a sheet an' quiverin' all over. -Said he: 'I've got to have this over with, Ab. I may as well tell you -an' be done with it. It's been botherin' the life out o' me, an' I 'll -never git rid of it till it's done. I want to pay you half o' that money -you spent on Jimmy. I had the cash that day, an' it 'ain't done me one -bit o' good sence then. I 'll never sleep well till I go you halvers.' - -"'I cayn't sell that to you, Uncle Tommy,' I said, laughin'. 'No, siree, -you couldn't chip into that investment ef you doubled yore offer. I've -found out what it is wuth. But,' said I, 'ef you've got two hundred -that's burnin' a hole in yore pocket, ur conscience, an' want to yank it -out, go give it to Jimmy's wife to he'p her educate that baby.' - -"It struck 'im betwixt the eyes, but he didn't say yes or no. He slid -away in the moonlight, all bent over an' quiet. I never seed 'im agin -fer a month, an' then I called 'im out of a crowd o' fellers at the -court-house an' axed 'im what he'd done. He looked bothered a little, -but he gave me a straight look like he wasn't ready to sneak out o' -anything. - -"'I thought it over,' said he, 'but I railly don't see no reason why I -ort to help Jimmy's child any more 'n a whole passle o' others that have -as much claim on me by blood; but somehow I do feel like goin' cahoot -with you in what's already been done, an' I'm still ready to jine you, -ef you are willin'.' - -"I didn't take his money, but it set me to thinkin'. When old Tommy -died, ten years after that, they found he had six wool socks filled with -gold an' silver coin under his house, an' nobody ever heerd o' his doin' -any charity work. I wish now that I'd 'a' lifted that cash an' 'a' put -it whar it would do good. If I had he'd 'a' had a taste o' some 'n' that -never glorified his pallet." - -When Abner concluded, Mrs. Bishop went to the fire and pushed the chunks -together into a heap in the fireplace. Bishop moved in his chair, but he -said nothing. - -"I remember heerin' about that, brother Ab," Mrs. Bishop said, a -reminiscent intonation in her voice. "Some folks wondered powerful over -it. I don't believe money does a body much good jest to hold an' keep. -As the Lord is my judge, I jest wanted that bank deposit fer Alan and -Adele. I wanted it, an' I wanted it bad, but I cayn't believe it was a -sin." - -Something like a groan escaped Bishop's lips as he lowered the front -posts of his chair to the floor. - -"What's the use o' talkin' about it?" he said, impatiently. "What's the -use o' anything?" - -He rose and moved towards the door leading to his room. - -"Alfred," Mrs. Bishop called to him, "are you goin' to bed without -holdin' prayer?" - -"I'm goin' to omit it to-night," he said. "I don't feel well, one bit. -Besides, I reckon each pusson kin pray in private according to the way -they feel." - -Abner stood up, and removing the lamp-chimney he lighted a candle by the -flame. - -"I tried to put a moral lesson in what I said just now," he smiled, -mechanically, "but I missed fire. Alf's sufferin' is jest unselfishness -puore an' undefiled; he wants to set his children up in the world. This -green globe is a sight better 'n some folks thinks it is. You kin find a -little speck o' goody in mighty nigh ever' chestnut." - -"That's so, brother Ab," said his sister; "but we are ruined -now--ruined, ruined!" - -"Ef you will look at it that way," admitted Abner, reaching for his -candle; "but thar's a place ahead whar thar never was a bank, or a -dollar, or a railroad, an' it ain't fur ahead, nuther. Some folks say -it begins heer in this life." - - - - -XXIV - - -[Ill 9000] - -S Abner Daniel leaned over the rail-fence in front of Pole Baker's -log-cabin one balmy day, two weeks later, he saw evidences of the -ex-moonshiner's thriftlessness combined with an inordinate love for his -children. A little express-wagon, painted red, such as city children -receive from their well-to-do parents on Christmas, was going to ruin -under a cherry-tree which had been bent to the ground by a rope-swing -fastened to one of its flexible boughs. The body of a mechanical -speaking-doll lay near by, and the remains of a toy air-rifle. After -a protracted spree Pole usually came home laden down with such -peace-offerings to his family and conscience. His wife might go without -a needed gown, and he a coat, but his children never without toys. -Seeing Abner at the fence, Mrs. Baker came to the low door and stood -bending her head to look out. - -"I heerd at home," said Abner, "that Pole was over thar axin' fer me. -I've been away to my peach-orchard on the hill." - -"Yes, he's been over thar twice," said the woman. "He's back of the -house some'r's settin' a trap fer the children to ketch some birds in. -I 'll blow the horn. When I blow twice he knows he's wanted right off." - -She took down a cow's-horn from a nail on the wall, and going to the -door on the opposite side of the house she gave two long, ringing -blasts, which set half a dozen dogs near by and some far off to barking -mellowly. In a few minutes Pole appeared around the corner of the cabin. - -"Hello, Uncle Ab," he said. "Won't you come in?" - -"No, hain't time," smiled the old man. "I jest come over to see how much -money you wanted to borrow." - -"I don't want any o' yo'rn," said Pole, leaning over the fence, his -unbuttoned shirt-sleeves allowing his brawny, bare arms to rest on the -top rail. "I wanted to talk to you about Alan an' that bank bu'st-up." - -"You've been to town, I heer," said Abner, deeply interested. - -"Yes, an' I've been with Alan an' Miller fer the last week tryin' to -do some 'n', but we couldn't. They've been sendin' telegrams by the -basketful, an' Jeff Dukes has trotted his legs off back an' forth, but -nothin' hain't been done." - -"You say the' hain't?" Abner's voice quivered and fell. - -"No; they both kept up the'r sperits purty well fer about ten days -beca'se that dang Atlanta chief of police kept wirin' he was on a scent -o' Winship; but day before yesterday they give in. We was a-settin' -in Miller's office when the last message come from Atlanta. They said -they'd been after the wrong man, an' that they'd give up. You ort to 'a' -seed Alan's face. Miller tried to cheer 'im up, but it wasn't no go. -Then who do you think come? Alan's sweetheart. She axed to see 'im, an' -they talked awhile in the front room; then Miller come back an' said -she'd axed to be introduced to me. Jest think of it! I went in and seed -she'd been a-cryin'. She got up, by jinks! an' ketched my hand an' said -she wanted to thank me beca'se I'd been sech a friend to Alan. Uncle Ab, -I felt as mean as a egg-suckin' dog, beca'se thar was Alan flat o' his -back, as the feller said, an' I hadn't turned a hand to he'p 'im. And -thar she was, the gal he loves an' wants, an' his poverty standin' -betwixt 'em. I couldn't say nothin', an' I reckon I looked more kinds of -a damn fool than she ever seed on two legs." - -"Well, what did you do?" asked Abner, too much moved by Pole's graphic -picture to speak with his usual lightness. - -"What did I do? I made my bow an' slid. I made a bee-line fer Murray's -bar an' put two down as fast as they could shovel 'em out. Then I tuck -another, an' quit countin'. I begun to think I owned the shebang, an' -broke several billiard-cues an' throwed the chalk around. Then Dukes -come an' said he'd give me a chance to escape trial fer misconduct, ef -I'd straddle my hoss an' make fer home. I agreed, but thar was one thing -I had to do fust. I had promised Alan not to drink any more, an' so I -didn't want to sneak away to hide it. I went to Miller's house, whar -he's stayin', an' called 'im out. I told 'im I'd jest come fer no other -reason 'an to let 'im see me at my wust. I felt like it was the only -manly way, after I'd broke faith with a friend as true as he is." - -"Too bad!" sighed Abner. "I 'll bet it hurt Alan to see you in that fix." - -"Well, he didn't complain," said Pole. "But he put his arm around me an' -come as nigh cryin' as I ever seed a strong man. 'It's my fault, Pole,' -ses he. 'I can see that.' Then him an' Miller both tried to git me to -go up-stairs in that fine house an' go to bed an' sleep it off, but I -wouldn't. I come on home an' got mad at Sally fer talkin' to me, an' -come as nigh as peas hittin' 'er in the jaw. But that's over, Uncle Ab. -What I'm in fer now is work. I ain't no fool. I'm on a still hunt, an' -I jest want yore private opinion. I don't want you to commit yorese'f, -unless you want to; but I'd go more on yore jedgment than any man' s in -this county. I want to know ef you think old Craig is a honest man at -heart. Now don't say you don't know, an' keep yore mouth shet; fer what -I want to know, an' _all_ I want to know, is how you feel about that one -thing." - -Abner hung his head down. His long thumb trembled as its nail went under -a splinter on the rail and pried it off. - -"I see what you are a-drivin' at," he said. "You jest want to feel shore -o' yore ground." Abner began to chew the splinter and spit out the broken -bits. He was silent, under Pole's anxious gaze, for a minute, and then -he laughed dryly. "I reckon me 'n' you has about the same suspicions," -he said. "That p'int's been worryin' me fer several days, an' I didn't -let it end, thar nuther." - -"Ah! you didn't?" exclaimed Baker. "You say you didn't, Uncle Ab?" - -"No; I got so I couldn't lie down at night without the idea poppin' into -my head that maybe Craig had made a tool of Winship fer some minor crime -an' had hustled 'im out o' the country so he could gobble up what was in -the bank an' pose as a injured man in the community." - -"Same heer, pine blank!" said Pole, eagerly. "What did you do, Uncle -Ab?" - -"I went to Darley an' attended his church last Sunday," replied the old -man, a tense expression in his eyes. "I got a seat in the amen-corner, -whar I could see him, an' all through preachin' I watched 'im like a -hawk. He didn't look to me like a man who had bu'sted on wind alone. He -had a fat, oily, pink look, an' when they axed 'im to lead in prayer it -looked to me like he was talkin' more to the people 'an he was to God. -I didn't like his whine, an' what he said didn't seem to come from the -cellar. But I seed that he was makin' converts to his side as fast as -a dog kin trot. The Presbyterians an' Baptists has been accusin' the -Methodists o' packin' more bad eggs 'an they have, an' it looks like -Craig's crowd's a-goin' to swear he's fresh whether he is or not. After -meetin' was over I walked ahead of him an' his fine lady, who has made -the mistake o' tryin' to kiver the whole business up with silk an' -feathers, an' waited fer 'em nigh the'r gate. I told 'im I wanted a -word with 'im, an' they axed me in the parlor. I smelt dinner, but they -didn't mention it. I wasn't goin' to eat thar nohow. Well, I set in an' -jest told Craig what had been troublin' me. I said the loss o' my folk's -money was as bad as death, an' that thar'd been so much talk agin him, -an' suspicion, that I had jest come to headquarters. Ef he had any money -laid away, I was thar to tell 'im it never would do 'im any good, an' ef -he didn't, I wanted to beg his pardon fer my evil thoughts, an' try to -git the matter off'n my mind." - -"Good God! did you railly tell 'im that, Uncle Ab?" - -"Yes, an' I had a deep-laid reason. I wanted to make 'im mad an' study -'im. He did git mad. He was as red as a dewberry, an' quivered from head -to foot. Thar's two kinds o' mad--the justified an' the unjustified. -Make a good man rail mad by accusin' 'im, an' he 'll justify hisse'f or -bu'st; but ef you make a bad un mad by accusin' 'im, he 'll delight in -showin' you he's done wrong--ef it hurts you _an' he's safe_. Thar's -right whar I landed Craig. He had the look, as plain as day, o' sayin', -'Yes, dang you, I did it, an' you cayn't he'p yorese'f!' His wife had -gone in the back part o' the house, an' after a while I heerd her new -shoes a-creakin' at the door betwixt the two rooms. Now a pair o' shoes -don't walk up to a door squeakin' like mice an' then stop all of a -sudden without reason. I knowed she was a-listenin', an' I determined -she should not heer me say she was purty. I told 'im louder 'an ever that -folks was a-talkin', an' a-talkin', an' that fetched her. She flung open -the door an' faced me as mad as a turtle on its back. She showed her -hand, too, an' I knowed she was in cahoot with 'im. She cussed me black -an' blue fer a uncouth, meddlin' devil, an' what not." - -"By gum!" said Pole, his big eyes expanding. "But you didn't gain much -by that, did you?" - -"Jest satisfied myself that Alan's money--or some of it--wasn't out o' -creation, that's all." - -"I have my reasons fer believin' like you do," said Pole. - -"You say you have." - -Pole glanced furtively over his shoulder at his cabin to see that no one -was within hearing, then said: - -"You know Winship is old Fred Parson's nephew. Well, old Fred's always -been a stanch friend to me. We moonshined it together two yeer, though -he never knowed my chief hidin'-place. In fact, nobody knows about -that spot, Uncle Ab, even now. Well, I had a talk with him an' axed -his opinion about his nephew. He talks as straight as a shingle, an' he -ain't no idiot. He says it's all bosh about Winship takin' away all that -boodle." - -"He does, does he?" Abner nodded, as if to himself. - -"Yes, and he don't claim Winship ain't guilty, nuther; he jest holds -that he was too small a dabbler in devilment. He thinks, as I do, that -Craig run 'im off with threats of arrest an' picked that chance to -bu'st. He thinks Winship's in a safe place an' never will be fetched -back." - -Abner drew himself up straight. - -"Have you talked to Alan an' Miller on that line?" - -"Tried to," grunted Pole, in high disgust, "but Miller says it's no -good to think of accusin' Craig. He says we can' t prove a thing on 'im, -unless we ketch Winship. He says that sort of a steal is the easiest -thing on earth, an' that it's done every day. But that's beca'se he was -fetched up in the law," Pole finished. "We-uns out heer in the mountains -kin fish up other ways o' fetchin' a scamp to time without standin' 'im -up before a thick-headed jury, or lettin' 'im out on bond till he dies -o' old age. You've got sense enough to know that, Uncle Ab." - -The slanting rays of the setting sun struck the old man in the face. -There was a tinkle of cow-bells in the pasture below the cabin. The -outlaw in Pole Baker was a thing Abner Daniel deplored; and yet, to-day -it was a straw bobbing about on the troubled waters of the old man' -s soul towards which, if he did not extend his hand, he looked -interestedly. A grim expression stole into his face, drawing the merry -lines down towards his chin. - -"I wouldn't do nothin' foolhardy," he said. - -Pole Baker grunted in sheer derision. "I've done fool things whar thar -wasn't a thing to be made by 'em. By gum! I'd do ten dozen fer jest a -bare chance o' shakin' that wad o' cash in Alan Bishop's face, an' so -would you, dern yore hide--so would you, Uncle Ab Daniel!" - -Abner blinked at the red sun. - -"The boy's been bad treated," he said, evasively; "bad, bad, bad! It's -squeezed life an' hope out o' him." - -"Well, you are a church-member, an' so _fur_ in good-standin'," said -Pole, "an' I ain't agoin' to pull you into no devilment; but ef I see -any way--I say _ef_ I see any way, I 'll come an' tell you the news." - -"I wouldn't do nothin' foolhardy," said Abner, and turned to go. He -paused a few paces away and said, "I wouldn't do nothin' foolhardy, -Pole." He motioned towards the cabin. "You've got them in thar to look -after." - -Pole let him walk on a few paces, then he climbed over the fence and -caught him up. He drew the piece of quartz containing the tiny nugget -of gold from his pocket, which he had shown Abner and Dole on a former -occasion. "You see that, Uncle Ab," he said. "That dirty rock is like -friendship in general, but that little yaller lump is like my friendship -fer Alan Bishop. It's the puore thing, solid an' heavy, an' won't lose -color. You don't know when that boy done his first favor to me. It was -away back when we was boys together. A feller at Treadwell's mill one -day, behind my back, called me a bad name--a name no man will take or -can. He used my mother's name, God bless her! as puore an' holy a woman -as ever lived, to git back at me. He hadn't no sooner spoke it than Alan -was at his throat like a wild-cat. The skunk was bigger 'n him, but Alan -beat 'im till he was black all over. I never heerd about it till about -two weeks after it happened an' the feller had moved out West. Alan -wouldn't let nobody tell me. I axed 'im why he hadn't let me know. -'Beca'se,'ses he, 'you'd 'a' killed 'im an' 'a' got into trouble, an' he -wasn't wuth it. 'That's what he said, Uncle Ab." Pole's big-jawed face -was full of struggling emotion, his voice was husky, his eyes were -filling. "That's why it's a-killin' me to see 'im robbed of all he's -got--his pride, his ambition, an' the good woman that loves 'im. Huh! ef -I jest _knowed_ that pie-faced hypocrite had his money he wouldn't have -it long." - -"I wouldn't do nothin' foolhardy, Pole." Abner looked into the fellow's -face, drew a long, trembling breath, and finished, "I wouldn't--but I 'll -be dumed ef I know what I'd do!" - - - - -XXV - - -[Illustration: 9218] - -HE following morning Pole rose before daylight and rode to Darley. As -he reached the place, the first rays of the sun were touching the -slate-covered spire of the largest church in town. - -He went to a public wagon-yard and hitched his horse to one of the -long racks. A mountain family he knew slightly had camped in the yard, -sleeping in their canvas-covered wagon, and were making coffee over a -little fire. Pole wanted a cup of the beverage, but he passed on into a -grocery-store across the street and bought a dime's worth of cheese and -hard-tack crackers. This was his breakfast. He washed it down with a -dipper of water from the street well, and sat around the store chatting -with the clerk, who was sprinkling the floor, and sweeping and dusting -the long room. The clerk was a red-headed young man with a short, -bristling mustache, and a suit of clothes that was too large for him. - -"Don't Mr. Craig stay around Fincher's warehouse a good deal?" Pole -asked, as the clerk rested for a moment on his broom near him. - -"Mighty nigh all day long," was the reply; "him an' Fincher's some kin, -I think." - -"On his wife's side," said Pole. "I want to see Mr. Craig. I wonder ef -he 'll be down thar this mornin'." - -"Purty apt," said the clerk. "Fincher's his best friend sence his -bu'st-up, an' they are mighty thick. I reckon he gits the cold-shoulder -at a lots o' places." - -"You don't say!" - -"An' of course he wants somewhar to go besides home. In passing I've -seed 'im a-figurin' several times at Fincher's desk. They say he's got -some notion o' workin' fer Fincher as his bookkeeper." - -"Well, he 'll have to make a livin' some way," said Pole. - -The clerk laughed significantly. - -"Ef it ain't already made," said he, with a smile. Pole stood up. "I -don't think that's right," he said, coldly. "Me nur you, nur nobody, -hain't got no right to hint at what we don't know nothin' about. Mr. -Craig may 'a' lost ever' cent he had." - -"In a pig's valise!" sneered the red-headed man. "I'd bet my hat he's -got money--an' plenty of it, huh!" - -"Well, I don't know nothin' about it," said Pole, still coldly. "An' -what's more, Dunn, I ain't a-goin' about smirchin' any helpless man's -character, nuther. Ef I knowed he had made by the bu'st I'd talk -different, but I don't know it!" - -"Oh, I see which side you are on, Baker," laughed the clerk. "Folks are -about equally divided. Half is fer 'im an' half agin. But mark my words, -Craig will slide out o' this town some day, an' be heerd of after a -while a-gittin' started agin some'r's else. That racket has been worked -to death all over the country." - -Pole carried the discussion no further. Half an hour passed. Customers -were coming in from the wagon-yard and examining the wares on the -counters and making slow purchases. The proprietor came in and let the -clerk go to breakfast. Pole stood in the doorway, looking up the street -in the direction of Craig's residence. Presently he saw the ex-banker -coming from the post-office, reading his mail. Pole stepped back into -the store and let him go by; then he went to the door again and saw -Craig go into Fincher's warehouse at the end of the next block of -straggling, wooden buildings. Pole sauntered down the sidewalk in that -direction, passing the front door of the warehouse without looking in. -The door at the side of the house had a long platform before it, and on -it Fincher, the proprietor, was weighing bales of hay which were being -unloaded from several wagons by the countrymen who were disposing of it. - -"Hello, Mr. Fincher," Pole greeted him, familiarly. "Want any help -unloadin'?" - -"Hello, Baker," said Fincher, looking up from the blank-book in which he -was recording the weights. "No, I reckon they can handle it all right." -Fincher was a short, fat man, very bald, and with a round, laughing -face. He had known Pole a long time and considered him a most amusing -character. "How do you come on, Pole?" - -"Oh, about as common. I jest thought them fellers looked sorter -light-weight." - -The men on the wagon laughed as they thumped a bale of hay on to the -platform. "You'd better dry up," one of them said. "We 'll git the mayor -to put you to work agin." - -"Well, he 'll have to be quicker about it than he was the last time," -said Pole, dryly. - -Some one laughed lustily from behind a tall stack of wheat in bags -in the warehouse. It was Lawyer Trabue. He came round and picked up -Fincher's daily paper, as he did every morning, and sat down and began -to read it. - -"Now you are talkin'," he said. "Thar was more rest in that job, Pole, -than any you ever undertook. They tell me you didn't crack a rock." - -Fincher laughed as he closed his book and struck Baker with it -playfully. "Pole was too tired to do that job," he said. "He was born -that way." - -"Say, Mr. Trabue," retaliated Pole, "did you ever heer how I got the -best o' Mr. Fincher in a chicken trade?" - -"I don't think I ever did, Pole," laughed the lawyer, expectantly. "How -was it?" - -"Oh, come off, don't go over that again," said Fincher, flushing. - -"It was this away," said Pole, with a broad, wholesome grin. "My cousin, -Bart Wilks, was runnin' the restaurant under the car-shed about two yeer -ago. He was a new hand at the business, an' one day he had a awful rush. -He got a telegram that a trainload o' passengers had missed connection -at Chattanooga an' would have to eat with him. He was powerful rattled, -runnin' round like a dog after its tail. He knowed he'd have to have a -lot o' fryin' chickens, an' he couldn't leave the restaurant, so he -axed me ef I'd take the money an' go out in town an' buy 'em fer 'im. I -consented, an' struck Mr. Fincher, who was sellin' sech truck then. He -'lowed, you know, that I jest wanted one, or two at the outside, fer my -own use, so when I seed a fine coop out in front an' axed the price of -'em he kinder drawed on his beerd till his mouth fell open, an' studied -how he could make the most out o' me. After a while he said: 'Well, -Pole, I 'll make 'em ten cents apiece ef I pick 'em, an' fifteen ef you -pick 'em.' I sorter skeerd the chickens around an' seed thar was two or -three tiny ones hidin' under the big ones, an' I seed what he was up to, -but I was ready fer 'im. 'All right,' ses I, 'you pick 'em.' Thar was -two or three loafers standin' round an' they all laughed at me when Mr. -Fincher got down over the coop an' finally ketched one about the size -of a robin an' hauled it out. 'Keep on a-pickin',' ses I, an' he made a -grab fer one a little bigger an' handed it up to me. Then he stuck his -hands down in his pockets, doin' his best to keep from laughin'. The -gang yelled then, but I wasn't done. 'Keep on a-pickin',' ses I. An' he -got down agin. An', sir, I got that coop at about four cents apiece less -'n he'd paid fer 'em. He tried to back, but the gang wouldn't let 'im. -It was the cheapest lot o' chickens I ever seed. I turned the little -ones out to fatten, an' made Wilks pay me the market-price all round fer -the bunch." - -"I 'll be bound you made some 'n' out of it," said Trabue. "Fincher, did -you ever heer how that scamp tuck in every merchant on this street about -two yeer ago?" - -"Never heerd anything except his owin' 'em all," said Fincher, with a -laugh. - -"I could put 'im in the penitentiary fer it," affirmed the lawyer. "You -know about that time thar was a powerful rivalry goin' on among the -storekeepers. They was movin' heaven an' earth to sell the'r big stocks. -Well, one of the spryest in the lot, Joe Gaylord, noticed that Pole was -powerful popular with mountain-folks, an' he made 'im a proposition, -bindin' 'im down to secrecy. He proposed to give Pole ten per cent, -commission on all the goods he'd he'p sell by bringin' customers in the -store. Pole hesitated, beca'se, he said, they might find it out, an' Joe -finally agreed that all Pole would have to do was to fetch 'em in, give -the wink, an' him an' his clerks would do the rest. It worked mighty -slick fer a while, but Pole noticed that very often the folks he'd -fetch in wouldn't be pleased with the goods an' prices an' ud go trade -some'r's else. Then what do you think the scamp did? He went to every -store in town an' made a secret contract to git ten per cent, on all -sales, an' he had the softest snap you ever heerd of. He'd simply -hang onto a gang from the country, whether he knowed 'em or not, an' -foller 'em around till they bought; then he'd walk up an' rake in his -part." - -"I got left once," said Pole, laughing with the others. "One gang that I -stuck to all day went over to Melton an' bought." - -"Well, the merchants caught on after a while an' stopped him," said -Trabue; "but he made good money while he was at it. They'd 'a' sent 'im -up fer it, ef it hadn't been sech a good joke on 'em." - -"I don't know about that," replied Pole, thoughtfully. "I was doin' all -I agreed, an' ef they could afford to pay ten per cent, to anybody, they -mought as well 'a' paid it to me. I drawed trade to the whole town. The -cigars an' whiskey I give away amounted to a lots. I've set up many a -night tellin' them moss-backs tales to make 'em laugh." - -"Well, ef you ever git into any trouble let me know," said Trabue, as he -rose to go. "I 'll defend you at half price; you'd be a sight o' help to -a lawyer. I 'll be hanged if I ever seed a better case 'an you made -out in the mayor's court, an' you hadn't a thing to back it up with, -nuther." - -The hay was unloaded and the wagons driven away. Fincher stood eying -Pole with admiration. "It's a fact," he said. "You could 'a' made -some 'n' out o' yorese'f, if you'd 'a' been educated, an' had a showin'." -Pole jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Craig, who was standing in -the front door, looking out into the street. "Everybody don't git a fair -showin' in this world, Mr. Fincher," he said. "That man Craig hain't -been treated right." - -The jovial expression died out of the merchant's face, and he leaned -against the door-jamb. - -"You are right thar," he said--"dead right. He's been mighty unlucky and -bad treated." - -Pole grasped the brim of his massive hat, and drew it from his shaggy -head. "It makes me so all-fired mad sometimes, Mr. Fincher, to heer -folks a-runnin' that man down, that I want to fight. I ain't no -religious man myse'f, but I respect one, an' I've always put him down in -my book as a good man." - -"So 've I," said the merchant, and he looked towards the subject of -their conversation and called out: "Craig, oh, Craig, come back heer a -minute." - -Pole put on his hat and stared at the ground. He made a gesture as if of -protest, but refrained from speaking. - -"What's wanted?" Craig came down to them. He was smoking a cigar -and wore a comfortable look, as if he had been fighting a hard but -successful fight and now heard only random shots from a fleeing enemy. - -"You ain't a candidate fer office," laughed Fincher, "but nearly all -men like to know they've got friends. This chap heer's been standin' up -fer you. He says it makes him mad to hear folks talk agin you." - -"Oh, it's Baker!" exclaimed the ex-banker, shaking hands with Pole and -beaming on him. "Well, I don't know a man I'd rather have for a friend," -he said, smoothly. - -Pole tossed his head, and looked straight into the speaker's eye. "I'm -fer human justice, Mr. Craig," he said. "An' I don't think folks -has treated you right. What man is thar that don't now an' then make -mistakes, sir? You've always had means, an' I never was anything but -a pore mountain-boy, but I've always looked on you as a good man, a -law-abidin' man, an' I don't like to heer folks try to blame you fer -what another man done. When you had plenty, I never come nigh you, -beca'se I knowed you belonged to one life an' me another, but now you -are flat o' yore back, sir, I'm yore friend." - -Craig's face beamed; he pulled his beard; his eyes danced. - -"I'm glad there are men in the world like you, Baker," he said. "I say -I'm glad, and I mean it." - -Fincher had begun to look over the figures in his book, and walked to -the front. - -"Oh, my friendship ain't wuth nothin'," said Pole. "I know that. I -never was in the shape to he'p nobody, but I know when a man' s treated -right or wrong." - -"Well, if you ever need assistance, and I can help you, don't fail to -call on me," Craig spoke with a tone of sincerity. - -Pole took a deep breath and lowered his voice, glancing cautiously into -the house, as if fearful of being overheard. - -"Well, I _do_ need advice, Mr. Craig," he said. "Not money, nor nothin' -expensive, but I've laid awake night after night wishing 'at I could run -on some man of experience that I could ax fer advice, an' that I could -trust. Mr. Craig, I 'll be blamed ef I don't feel like tellin' you -some 'n' that never has passed my lips." - -Craig stared in interested astonishment. "Well, you can trust me, -Baker," he said; "and if I can advise you, why, I 'll do it with -pleasure." - -There was a cotton compress near by, with its vast sheds and platforms, -and Pole looked at it steadily. He thrust his hand into his pants pocket -and kept it there for a full minute. Then he shook his head, drew out -his hand, and said: "I reckon I won't bother you to-day, Mr. Craig. Some -day I 'll come in town an' tell you, but--" Pole looked at the sun. "I -reckon I'd better be goin'." - -"Hold on," Craig caught Pole's arm. The exbanker was a natural man. -Despite his recent troubles, he had his share of curiosity, and Pole's -manner and words had roused it to unwonted activity. "Hold on," he said. -"What's your hurry? I've got time to spare if you have." - -Pole hung his head for a moment in silence, then he looked the old -man in the face. "Mr. Craig," he began, in even a lower voice, "do you -reckon thar's any gold in them mountains?" Pole nodded to the blue wave -in the east. - -Craig was standing near a bale of cotton and he sat down on it, first -parting the tails of his long, black coat. - -"I don't know; there might be," he said, deeply interested, and yet -trying to appear indifferent. "There is plenty of it in the same range -further down about Dalonega." - -Pole had his hand in the right pocket of his rough jean trousers. - -"Is thar anybody in this town that could tell a piece o' gold ef they -seed it?" he asked. - -"Oh, a good many, I reckon," said Craig, a steely beam of excitement in -his unsteady eye. "I can, myself. I spent two years in the gold-mines of -California when I was a young man." - -"You don't say! I never knowed that." Pole had really heard of that -fact, but his face was straight. He had managed to throw into it a most -wonderful blending of fear and over-cautiousness. - -"Oh yes; I've had a good deal of experience in such things." - -"You don't say!" Pole was looking towards the compress again. - -Craig laughed out suddenly, and put his hand on Pole's shoulder with a -friendly, downward stroke. - -"You can trust me, Baker," he said, persuasively, "and it may be that I -could be of assistance to you." - -There was something like an actual tremor of agitation in Pole's rough -hand as he drew his little nugget from its resting-place at the bottom -of his pocket. With a deep, indrawn breath, he handed it to Craig. "Is -that thar little lump gold or not?" he asked. - -Craig started visibly as his eyes fell on the piece of gold. But he took -it indifferently, and examined it closely. - -"Where did you run across that?" he asked. - -"I want to know ef it's the puore thing," answered Pole. - -Craig made another examination, obviously to decide on the method he -would apply to a situation that claimed all his interest. - -"I think it is," he said; "in fact, I know it is." - -Pole took it eagerly, thrust it back into his pocket, and said: - -"Mr. Craig, I know whar thar's a vein o' that stuff twenty yards thick, -runnin' clean through a mountain." - -"You do!" Craig actually paled under his suppressed excitement. - -"Yes, sir; an' I kin buy it, lock, stock, and barrel, fer five hundred -dollars--the feller that owns it ud jump at it like a duck on a -June-bug. That's my secret, Mr. Craig. I hain't one dollar to my name, -but from this day on I'm goin' to work hard an' save my money till I own -that property. I'm a-goin' down to Atlanta next week, whar people don't -know me, an' have a lump of it bigger 'n this examined, an' ef it's gold -I 'll own the land sooner or later." - -Craig glanced to the rear. - -"Come back here," he said. Opening a door at the end of the warehouse, -he led Pole into a more retired spot, where they would be free from -possible interruption. Then, in a most persuasive voice, he continued: -"Baker, you need a man of experience with you in this. Besides, if there -is as much of--of that stuff as you say there is, you wouldn't be able -to use all you could make out of it. Now, it might take you a long time -to get up the money to buy the land, and there is no telling what might -happen in the mean time. I'm in a close place, but I could raise five -hundred dollars, or even a thousand. My friends still stick to me, you -know. The truth is, Baker, I'd like the best in the world to be able to -make money to pay back what some of my friends have lost through me." - -Pole hung his head. He seemed to be speaking half to himself and on the -verge of a smile when he replied: "I'd like to see you pay back some of -'em too, Mr. Craig." - -Craig laid his hand gently on Pole's shoulder. - -"How about lettin' me see the place, Baker?" he said. - -Pole hesitated, and then he met the ex-banker's look with the expression -of a man who has resigned himself to a generous impulse. - -"Well, some day when you are a-passin' my way, stop in, an' I 'll--" - -"How far is it?" broke in Craig, pulling his beard with unsteady -fingers. - -"A good fifteen miles from heer," said Pole. - -Craig smiled. "Nothin' but an easy ride," he declared. "I've got a horse -doin' nothing in the stable. What's to hinder us from going to-day--this -morning--as soon as I can go by for my horse?" - -"I don't keer," said Pole, resignedly. "But could you manage to go -without anybody knowin' whar you was bound fer?" - -"Easy enough," Craig laughed. He was really pleased with Pole's extreme -cautiousness. - -"Then you mought meet me out thar some'r's." - -"A good idea--a good idea, Baker." - -"Do you know whar the Ducktown road crosses Holly Creek, at the foot o' -Old Pine Mountain?" - -"As well as I know where my house is." - -Pole looked at the sun, shading his eyes with his hand. - -"Could you be thar by eleven o'clock?" - -"Easy enough, Baker." - -"Well, I 'll meet you--I'm a-goin' to trust you, Mr. Craig, an' when you -see the vein, ef you think thar's enough money in it fer two--but we can -see about that later." - -"All right, Baker. I 'll be there. But say," as Pole was moving away, -"you are a drinking man, and get a little off sometimes. You haven't -said anything about this where anybody--" - -Pole laughed reassuringly. "I never have been drunk enough to do that, -Mr. Craig, an', what's more, I never will be." - - - - -XXVI - - -[Illustration: 9230] - -BOUT noon that day, as Pole Baker sat on a fallen tree near the -road-side in the loneliest spot of that rugged country, his horse -grazing behind him, he saw Craig coming up the gradual incline from -the creek. Pole stood up and caught the bridle-rein of his horse and -muttered: - -"Now, Pole Baker, durn yore hide, you've got brains--at least, some -folks say you have--an' so has he. Ef you don't git the best of that -scalawag yo' re done fer. You've put purty big things through; now put -this un through or shet up." - -"Well, heer you are," merrily cried out the ex-banker, as he came up. -He was smiling expectantly. "Your secret's safe with me. I hain't met a -soul that I know sence I left town." - -"I'm glad you didn't, Mr. Craig," Pole said. "I don't want anybody -a-meddlin' with my business." He pointed up the rather steep and rocky -road that led gradually up the mountain. "We've got two or three mile -furder to go. Have you had any dinner?" - -"I put a cold biscuit and a slice of ham in my pocket," said Craig. "It -'ll do me till supper." - -Pole mounted and led the way up the unfrequented road. - -"I may as well tell you, Mr. Craig, that I used to be a moonshiner in -these mountains, an'--" - -"Lord, I knew that, Baker. Who doesn't, I'd like to know?" - -Pole's big-booted legs swung back and forth like pendulums from the -flanks of his horse. - -"I was a-goin' to tell you that I had a hide-out, whar I kept stuff -stored, that wasn't knowed by one livin' man." - -"Well, you must have had a slick place from all I've heerd," said Craig, -still in his vast good-humor with himself and everybody else. - -"The best natur' ever built," said Pole; "an' what's more, it was in -thar that I found the gold. I reckon it ud 'a' been diskivered long ago, -ef it had 'a' been above ground." - -"Then it's in--a sort of cave?" ventured Craig. - -"That's jest it; but I've got the mouth of it closed up so it ud fool -even a bloodhound." - -Half an hour later Pole drew rein in a most isolated spot, near a great -yawning canon from which came a roaring sound of rushing water and -clashing winds. The sky overhead was blue and cloudless; the air at that -altitude was crisp and rarefied, and held the odor of spruce pine. With -a laugh Pole dismounted. "What ef I was to tell you, Mr. Craig, that you -was in ten yards o' my old den right now." - -Craig looked about in surprise. "I'd think you was makin' fun o' -me--tenderfootin', as we used to say out West." - -"I'm givin' it to you straight," said Pole, pointing with his -riding-switch. "Do you see that pile o' rocks?" - -Craig nodded. - -"Right under them two flat ones is the mouth o' my den," said Pole. "Now -let's hitch to that hemlock, an' I 'll show you the whole thing." - -When they had fastened their horses to swinging limbs in a dense thicket -of laurel and rhododendron bushes, they went to the pile of rocks. - -"I toted mighty nigh all of 'em from higher up," Pole explained. "Some -o' the biggest I rolled down from that cliff above." - -"I don't see how you are going to get into your hole in the ground," -said Craig, with a laugh of pleasant anticipation. - -Pole picked up a big, smooth stick of hickory, shaped like a crowbar, -and thrust the end of it under the largest rock. "Huh! I 'll show you in -a jiffy." - -It was an enormous stone weighing over three hundred pounds; but with -his strong lever and knotted muscles the ex-moonshiner managed to slide -it slowly to the right, disclosing a black hole about two feet square in -the ragged stone. From this protruded into the light the ends of a crude -ladder leading down about twenty-five feet to the bottom of the cave. - -"Ugh!" Craig shuddered, as he peered into the dank blackness. "You don't -mean that we are to go down there?" - -It was a crisis. Craig seemed to be swayed between two impulses--a -desire to penetrate farther and an almost controlling premonition of -coming danger. Pole met the situation with his usual originality and -continued subtlety of procedure. With his big feet dangling in the hole -he threw himself back and gave vent to a hearty, prolonged laugh that -went ringing and echoing about among the cliffs and chasms. - -"I 'lowed this ud make yore flesh crawl," he said. "Looks like the -openin' to the bad place, don't it?" - -"It certainly does," said Craig, somewhat reassured by Pole's levity. - -"Why, it _ain' t_ more 'n forty feet square," said Pole. "Wait till I run -down an' make a light. I've got some fat pine torches down at the foot -o' the ladder." - -"Well, I believe I _will_ let you go first," said Craig, with an uneasy -little laugh. - -Pole went down the ladder, recklessly thumping his heels on the rungs. -He was lost to sight from above, but in a moment Craig heard him strike -a match, and saw the red, growing flame of a sputtering torch from which -twisted a rope of smoke. When it was well ablaze, Pole called up the -ladder: "Come on, now, an' watch whar you put yore feet. This end o' the -ladder is solid as the rock o' Gibralty." - -The square of daylight above was cut off, and in a moment the ex-banker -stood beside his guide. - -"Now come down this way," said Pole, and with the torch held high he led -the way into a part of the chamber where the rock overhead sloped, down -lower. Here lay some old whiskey-barrels, two or three lager-beer kegs, -and the iron hoops of several barrels that had been burned. There were -several one-gallon jugs with corn-cob stoppers. Pole swept his hand over -them with a laugh. "If you was a drinkin' man, I could treat you to a -thimbleful or two left in them jugs," he said, almost apologetically. - -"But I don't drink, Baker," Craig said. His premonition of danger seemed -to have returned to him, and to be driven in by the dank coolness of the -cavern, the evidence of past outlawry around him. - -Pole heaped his pieces of pine against a rock, and added to them the -chunks of some barrel-staves, which set up a lively popping sound like a -tiny fusillade of artillery. - -"You see that rock behind you, Mr. Craig?" asked Pole. "Well, set -down on it. Before we go any furder, me'n you've got to have a -understanding." - -The old man stared hesitatingly for an instant, and then, after -carefully feeling of the stone, he complied. - -"I thought we already--but, of course," he said, haltingly, "I'm ready -to agree to anything that 'll make you feel safe." - -"I kinder 'lowed you would,'' and to Craig's overwhelming astonishment -Pole drew a revolver from his hip-pocket and looked at it, twirling the -cylinder with a deft thumb. - -"You mean, Baker--'' But Craig's words remained unborn in his bewildered -brain. The rigor of death itself seemed to have beset his tongue. A cold -sweat broke out on him. - -"I mean that I've tuck the trouble to fetch you heer fer a purpose, Mr. -Craig, an' thar ain't any use in beatin' about the bush to git at it." - -Craig made another effort at utterance, but failed. Pole could hear his -rapid breathing and see the terrified gleaming of his wide-open eyes. - -"You've had a lots o' dealin' s, Mr. Craig," said Pole. "You've made yore -mistakes an' had yore good luck, but you never did a bigger fool thing -'an you did when you listened to my tale about that lump o' gold." - -"You've trapped me!" burst from Craig's quivering lips. - -"That's about the size of it." - -"But--why?" The words formed the beginning and the end of a gasp. - -Pole towered over him, the revolver in his tense hand. - -"Mr. Craig, thar is one man in this world that I'd die fer twenty times -over. I love 'im more than a brother. That man you've robbed of every -dollar an' hope on earth. I've fetched you heer to die a lingerin' -death, ef--ef, I say, _ef_--you don't refund his money. That man is Alan -Bishop, an' the amount is twenty-five thousand dollars to a cent." - -"But I haven't any money," moaned the crouching figure; "not a dollar -that I kin lay my hands on." - -"Then you are in a damn bad fix," said Pole. "Unless I git that amount -o' money from you you 'll never smell a breath o' fresh air or see -natural daylight." - -"You mean to kill a helpless man?" The words were like a prayer. - -"I'd bottle you up heer to die," said Pole Baker, firmly. "You've met me -in this lonely spot, an' no man could lay yore end to me. In fact, all -that know you would swear you'd run off from the folks you've defrauded. -You see nothin' but that money o' Alan Bishop's kin possibly save you. -You know that well enough, an' thar ain't a bit o' use palaverin' about -it. I've fetched a pen an' ink an' paper, an' you've got to write me an -order fer the money. If I have to go as fur off as Atlanta, I 'll take -the fust train an' go after it. If I git the money, you git out, ef I -don't you won't see me agin, nur nobody else till you face yore Maker." - -Craig bent over his knees and groaned. - -"You think I _have_ money," he said, straightening up. "Oh, my God!" - -"I _know_ it," said Pole. "I don't think anything about it--I _know_ -it." - -He took out the pen and ink from his pants pocket and unfolded a sheet -of paper. "Git to work," he said. "You needn't try to turn me, you -damned old hog!" - -Craig raised a pair of wide-open, helpless eyes to the rigid face above -him. - -"Oh, my God!" he said, again. - -"You let God alone an' git down to business," said Pole, taking a fresh -hold on the handle of his weapon. "I'm not goin' to waste time with you. -Either you git me Alan Bishop's money or you 'll die. Hurry up!" - -"Will you keep faith with me--if--if--" - -"Yes, durn you, why wouldn't I?" A gleam of triumph flashed in the -outlaw's eyes. Up to this moment he had been groping in experimental -darkness. He now saw his way clearly and his voice rang with dawning -triumph. - -The ex-banker had taken the pen and Pole spread out the sheet of paper -on his knee. - -"What assurance have I?" stammered Craig, his face like a death-mask -against the rock behind him. "You see, after you got the money, you -might think it safer to leave me here, thinking that I would prosecute -you. I wouldn't, as God is my judge, but you might be afraid--" - -"I'm not afraid o' nothin'," said Pole. "Old man, you couldn't handle me -without puttin' yorese'f in jail fer the rest o' yore life. That order's -a-goin' to be proof that you have money when you've swore publicly that -you didn't. No; when I'm paid back Alan Bishop's money I 'll let you go. -I don't want to kill a man fer jest tryin' to steal an' not makin' the -riffle." - -The logic struck home. The warmth of hope diffused itself over the gaunt -form. "Then I 'll write a note to my wife," he said. - -Pole reached for one of the torches and held it near the paper. - -"Well, I'm glad I won't have to go furder'n Darley," he said. "It 'll be -better fer both of us. By ridin' peert I can let you out before sundown. -You may git a late supper at Darley, but it's a sight better'n gittin' -none heer an' no bed to speak of." - -"I'm putting my life in your hands, Baker," said Craig, and with an -unsteady hand he began to write. - -"Hold on thar," said Pole. "You 'll know the best way to write to -her, but when the money's mentioned I want you to say the twenty-five -thousand dollars deposited in the bank by the Bishops. You see I'm not -goin' to tote no order fer money I hain't no right to. An' I 'll tell -you another thing, old man, you needn't throw out no hint to her to have -me arrested. As God is my final judge, ef I'm tuck up fer this, they 'll -never make me tell whar you are. I'd wait until you'd pegged out, -anyway." - -"I'm not setting any trap for you, Baker," whined Craig. "You've got the -longest head of any man I ever knew. You've got me in your power, and -all I can ask of you is my life. I've got Bishop's money hidden in my -house. I am willing to restore it, if you will release me. I can write -my wife a note that will cause her to give it to you. Isn't that fair?" - -"That's all I want," said Pole; "an' I 'll say this to you, I 'll agree to -use my influence with Alan Bishop not to handle you by law; but the best -thing fer you an' yore family to do is to shake the dirt of Darley off'n -yore feet an' seek fresh pastures. These 'round heer ain't as green, in -one way, as some I've seed." - -Craig wrote the note and handed it up to Baker. Pole read it slowly, and -then said: "You mought 'a' axed 'er to excuse bad writin' an' spellin', -an' hopin' these few lines will find you enjoyin' the same blessin' s; -but ef it gits the boodle that's all I want. Now you keep yore shirt on, -an' don't git skeerd o' the darkness. It will be as black as pitch, an' -you kin heer yore eyelids creak after I shet the front door, but I 'll -be back--ef I find yore old lady hain't run off with a handsomer man -an' tuck the swag with 'er. I'm glad you cautioned 'er agin axin' me -questions." - -Pole backed to the foot of the ladder, followed by Craig. - -"Don't leave me here, Baker," he said, imploringly. "Don't, for God's -sake! I swear I 'll go with you and get you the money." - -"I can't do that, Mr. Craig; but I 'll be back as shore as fate, ef I get -that cash," promised Pole. "It all depends on that. I 'll keep my word, -if you do yore'n." - -"I am going to trust you," said the old man, with the pleading -intonation of a cowed and frightened child. - -After he had gotten out, Pole thrust his head into the opening again. -"It 'll be like you to come up heer an' try to move this rock," he -called out, "but you mought as well not try it, fer I'm goin' to add -about a dump-cart load o' rocks to it to keep the wolves from diggin' -you out." - - - - -XXVII - - -[Illustration: 9239] - -AYBURN MILLER and Alan spent that day on the river trying to catch fish, -but with no luck at all, returning empty-handed to the farm-house for -a late dinner. They passed the afternoon at target-shooting on the lawn -with rifles and revolvers, ending the day by a reckless ride on their -horses across the fields, over fences and ditches, after the manner of -fox-hunting, a sport not often indulged in in that part of the country. - -In the evening as they sat in the big sitting-room, smoking after-supper -cigars, accompanied by Abner Daniel, with his long, cane-stemmed pipe, -Mrs. Bishop came into the room, in her quiet way, smoothing her apron -with her delicate hands. - -"Pole Baker's rid up an' hitched at the front gate," she said. "Did you -send 'im to town fer anything, Alan?" - -"No, mother," replied her son. "I reckon he's come to get more meat. Is -father out there?" - -"I think he's some'r's about the stable," said Mrs. Bishop. - -Miller laughed. "I guess Pole isn't the best pay in the world, is he?" - -"Father never weighs or keeps account of anything he gets," said Alan. -"They both make a guess at it, when cotton is sold. Father calls it -'lumping' the thing, and usually Pole gets the lump. But he's all right, -and I wish we could do more for him. Father was really thinking about -helping him in some substantial way when the crash came--" - -"Thar!" broke in Daniel, with a gurgling laugh, "I've won my bet. I bet -to myse'f jest now that ten minutes wouldn't pass 'fore Craig an' his -bu'st-up would be mentioned." - -"We have been at it, off and on, all day," said Miller, with a -low laugh. "The truth is, it makes me madder than anything I ever -encountered." - -"Do you know why?" asked Abner, seriously, just as Pole Baker came -through the dining-room and leaned against the door-jamb facing them. -"It's beca'se"--nodding a greeting to Pole along with the others--"it's -beca'se you know in reason that he's got that money." - -"Oh, I wouldn't say _that_," protested Miller, in the tone of a man of -broad experience in worldly affairs. "I wouldn't say that." - -"Well, I would, an' do," said Abner, in the full tone of decision. "I -_know_ he's got it!" - -"Well, yo' re wrong thar, Uncle Ab," said Pole, striding forward and -sinking into a chair. "You've got as good jedgment as any man I ever run -across. I thought like you do once. I'd 'a' tuck my oath that he had it -about two hours by sun this evenin', but I kin swear he hain't a cent -of it now." - -"Do you mean that, Pole?" Abner stared across the wide hearth at him -fixedly. - -"He hain't got it, Uncle Ab." Pole was beginning to smile mysteriously. -"He _did_ have it, but he hain't got it now. I got it from 'im, blast -his ugly pictur'!" - -"_You_ got it?" gasped Daniel. "_You?_" - -"Yes. I made up my mind he had it, an' it deviled me so much that I -determined to have it by hook or crook, ef it killed me, or put me in -hock the rest o' my life." Pole rose and took a packet wrapped in brown -paper from under his rough coat and laid it on the table near Alan. -"God bless you, old boy," he said, "thar's yore money! It's all thar. I -counted it. It's in fifties an' hundreds." - -Breathlessly, and with expanded eyes, Alan broke the string about the -packet and opened it. - -"Great God!" he muttered. - -Miller sprang up and looked at the stack of bills, but said nothing. -Abner, leaning forward, uttered a little, low laugh. - -"You--you didn't kill 'im, did you, Pole, old boy--you didn't, did you?" -he asked. - -"Didn't harm a hair of his head," said Pole. "All I wanted was Alan' s -money, an' thar it is!" - -"Well," grunted Daniel, "I'm glad you spared his life. And I thank God -you got the money." - -Miller was now hurriedly running over the bills. - -"You say you counted it, Baker?" he said, pale with pleased excitement. - -"Three times; fust when it was turned over to me, an' twice on the way -out heer from town." - -Mrs. Bishop had not spoken until now, standing in the shadows of the -others as if bewildered by what seemed a mocking impossibility. - -"Is it our money--is it our'n?" she finally found voice to say. "Oh, is -it, Pole?" - -"Yes, 'm," replied Pole. "It's yo'rn." He produced a crumpled piece of -paper and handed it to Miller. "Heer's Craig's order on his wife fer -it, an' in it he acknowledges it's the cash deposited by Mr. Bishop. He -won't give me no trouble. I've got 'im fixed. He 'll leave Darley in the -mornin'. He's afeerd this 'll git out an' he 'll be lynched." - -Alan was profoundly moved. He transferred his gaze from the money to -Pole's face, and leaned towards him. - -"You did it out of friendship for me," he said, his voice shaking. - -"That's what I did it fer, Alan, an' I wish I could do it over agin. -When I laid hold o' that wad an' knowed it was the thing you wanted -more'n anything else, I felt like flyin'." - -"Tell us all about it, Baker," said Miller, wrapping up the stack of -bills. - -"All right," said Pole, but Mrs. Bishop interrupted him. - -"Wait fer Alfred," she said, her voice rising and cracking in delight. -"Wait; I 'll run find 'im." - -She went out through the dining-room towards the stables, calling her -husband at every step. "Alfred, oh, Alfred!" - -"Heer!" she heard him call out from one of the stables. - -She leaned over the fence opposite the closed door, behind which she had -heard his voice. - -"Oh, Alfred!" she called, "come out, quick! I've got news fer you--big, -big news!" - -She heard him grumbling as he emptied some ears of corn into the trough -of the stall containing Alan' s favorite horse, and then with a growl he -emerged into the starlight. - -"That fool nigger only give Alan's hoss six ears o' corn," he fumed. "I -know, beca'se I counted the cobs; the hoss had licked the trough clean, -an' gnawed the ends o' the cobs. The idea o' starvin' my stock right -before my--" - -"Oh, Alfred, what _do_ you think has happened?" his wife broke in. -"We've got the bank money back! Pole Baker managed somehow to get it. -He's goin' to tell about it now. Come on in!" - -Bishop closed the door behind him; he fumbled with the chain and padlock -for an instant, then he moved towards her, his lip hanging, his eyes -protruding. - -"I 'll believe my part o' that when--" - -"But," she cried, opening the gate for him to pass through, "the money's -thar in the house on the table; it's been counted. I say it's thar! -Don't you believe it?" - -The old man moved through the gate mechanically. He paused to fasten it -with the iron ring over the two posts. But after that he seemed to lose -the power of locomotion. He stood facing her, his features working. - -"I 'll believe my part o' that cat-an'-bull story when I see--" - -"Well, come in the house, then," she cried. "You kin lay yore hands -on it an' count it. It's a awful big pile, an' nothin' less than -fifty-dollar bills." - -Grasping his arm, she half dragged, half led him into the house. -Entering the sitting-room, he strode to the table and, without a word, -picked up the package and opened it. He made an effort to count the -money, but his fingers seemed to have lost their cunning, and he gave it -up. - -"It's all there," Miller assured him, "and it's your money. You needn't -bother about that." - -Bishop sat down in his place in the chimney corner, the packet on his -knees, while Pole Baker, modestly, and not without touches of humor, -recounted his experiences. - -"The toughest job I had was managin' the woman," Pole laughed. "You kin -always count on a woman to be contrary. I believe ef you was tryin' -to git some women out of a burnin' house they'd want to have the'r way -about it. She read the order an' got white about the gills an' screamed, -low, so nobody wouldn't heer 'er, an' then wanted to ax questions. -That's the female of it. She knowed in reason that Craig was dead fixed -an' couldn't git out until she complied with the instructions, but she -wanted to know all about it. I reckon she thought he wouldn't give full -particulars--an' he won't, nuther. She wouldn't budge to git the money, -an' time was a-passin'. I finally had a thought that fetched 'er. I told -'er Craig was confined in a place along with a barrel o' gunpowder; that -a slow fuse was burnin' towards 'im, an' that he'd go sky-high at about -sundown ef I didn't git thar an' kick out the fire. Then I told 'er -she'd be arrested fer holdin' the money, an' that got 'er in a trot. She -fetched it out purty quick, a-cryin' an' abusin' me by turns. As soon -as the money left 'er hands though, she begun to beg me to ride fast. -I wanted to come heer fust; but I felt sorter sorry fer Craig, an' went -an' let 'im out. He was the gladdest man to see me you ever looked at. -He thought I was goin' to leave 'im thar. He looked like he wanted to -hug me. He says Winship wasn't much to blame. They both got in deep -water speculatin', an' Craig was tempted to cabbage on the twenty-five -thousand dollars." - -When Pole had concluded, the group sat in silence for a long time. It -looked as if Bishop wanted to openly thank Pole for what he had done, -but he had never done such a thing in the presence of others, and he -could not pull himself to it. He sat crouched up in his tilted chair as -if burning up with the joy of his release. - -The silence was broken by Abner Daniel, as he filled his pipe anew and -stood over the fireplace. - -"They say money's a cuss an' the root of all evil," he said, dryly. "But -in this case it's give Pole Baker thar a chance to show what's in 'im. -I'd 'a' give the last cent I have to 'a' done what he did to-day. I -grant you he used deception, but it was the fust-water sort that that -Bible king resorted to when he made out he was goin' to divide that -baby by cuttin' it in halves. He fetched out the good an' squelched the -bad." Abner glanced at Pole, and gave one of his impulsive inward laughs. -"My boy, when I reach t'other shore I expect to see whole strings o' -sech law-breakers as you a-playin' leap-frog on the golden sands. You -don't sing an' pray a whole lot, nur keep yore religion in sight, but -when thar's work to be done you shuck off yore shirt an' do it like a -wild-cat a-scratchin'." - -No one spoke after this outburst for several minutes, though the glances -cast in his direction showed the embarrassed ex-moonshiner that one and -all had sanctioned Abner Daniel's opinion. - -Bishop leaned forward and looked at the clock, and seeing that it was -nine, he put the money in a bureau-drawer and turned the key. Then he -took down the big family Bible from its shelf and sat down near the -lamp. They all knew what the action portended. - -"That's another thing," smiled Abner Daniel, while his brother-in-law -was searching for his place in the big Book. "Money may be a bad thing, -a cuss an' a evil, an' what not, but Alf 'ain't felt like holdin' -prayer sence the bad news come; an' now that he's got the scads once -more the fust thing is an appeal to the Throne. Yes, it may be a bad -thing, but sometimes it sets folks to singin' an' shoutin'. Ef I was -a-runnin' of the universe, I believe I'd do a lots o' distributin' in -low places. I'd scrape off a good many tops an' level up more. Accordin' -to some, the Lord's busy watchin' birds fall to the ground. I reckon -our hard times is due to them pesky English sparrows that's overrun -ever'thing." - -"You'd better dry up, Uncle Ab," said Pole Baker. "That's the kind o' -talk that made brother Dole jump on you." - -"Huh! That's a fact," said Daniel; "but this is in the family." - -Then Bishop began to read in his even, declamatory voice, and all the -others looked steadily at the fire in the chimney, their faces lighted -up by the flickering flames. - -When they had risen from their knees after prayer, Pole looked at Abner -with eyes from which shot beams of amusement. He seemed to enjoy nothing -so much as hearing Abner's religious opinions. - -"You say this thing has set Mr. Bishop to prayin', Uncle Ab?" he asked. - -"That's what," smiled Abner, who had never admired Baker so much before. -"Ef I stay heer, an' they ever git that railroad through, I'm goin' to -have me a pair o' knee-pads made." - - - - -XXVIII - - -[Illustration: 9247] - -BOUT a week after the events recorded in the preceding chapter, old -man Bishop, just at dusk one evening, rode up to Pole Baker's humble -domicile. - -Pole was in the front yard making a fire of sticks, twigs, and chips. - -"What's that fer?" the old man questioned, as he dismounted and hitched -his horse to the worm fence. - -"To drive off mosquitoes," said Pole, wiping his eyes, which were red -from the effects of the smoke. "I 'll never pass another night like the -last un ef I kin he'p it. I 'lowed my hide was thick, but they bored fer -oil all over me from dark till sun-up. I never 've tried smoke, but Hank -Watts says it's ahead o' pennyr'yal." - -"Shucks!" grunted the planter, "you ain't workin' it right. A few rags -burnin' in a pan nigh yore bed may drive 'em out, but a smoke out heer -in the yard 'll jest drive 'em in." - -"What?" said Pole, in high disgust. "Do you expect me to sleep sech hot -weather as this is with a fire nigh my bed? The durn things may eat me -raw, but I 'll be blamed ef I barbecue myse'f to please 'em." - -Mrs. Baker appeared in the cabin-door, holding two of the youngest -children by their hands. "He won't take my advice, Mr. Bishop," she -said. "I jest rub a little lamp-oil on my face an' hands an' they don't -tetch me." Pole grunted and looked with laughing eyes at the old man. - -"She axed me t'other night why I'd quit kissin' 'er," he said. "An' I -told 'er I didn't keer any more fer kerosene than the mosquitoes did." - -Mrs. Baker laughed pleasantly, as she brought out a chair for Bishop and -invited him to sit down. He complied, twirling his riding-switch in his -hand. From his position, almost on a level with the floor, he could see -the interior of one of the rooms. It was almost bare of furniture. Two -opposite corners were occupied by crude bedsteads; in the centre of the -room was a cradle made from a soap-box on rockers sawn from rough poplar -boards. It had the appearance of having been in use through several -generations. Near it stood a spinning-wheel and a three-legged stool. -The sharp steel spindle gleamed in the firelight from the big log and -mud chimney. - -"What's the news from town, Mr. Bishop?" Pole asked, awkwardly, for it -struck him that Bishop had called to talk with him about some business -and was reluctant to introduce it. - -"Nothin' that interests any of us, I reckon, Pole," said the old man, -"except I made that investment in Shoal Cotton Factory stock." - -"That's good," said Pole, in the tone of anybody but a man who had never -invested a dollar in anything. "It's all hunkey, an' my opinion is that -it 'll never be wuth less." - -"I did heer, too," added Bishop, "that it was reported that Craig had -set up a little grocery store out in Texas, nigh the Indian Territory. -Some thinks that Winship 'll turn up thar an' jine 'im, but a body never -knows what to believe these days." - -"That shore is a fact," opined Pole. "Sally, that corn-bread's -a-burnin'; ef you'd use less lamp-oil you'd smell better." - -Mrs. Baker darted to the fireplace, raked the live coals from beneath -the cast-iron oven, and jerked off the lid in a cloud of steam and -smoke. She turned over the pone with the aid of a case-knife, and then -came back to the door. - -"Fer the last month I've had my eye on the Bascome farm," Bishop was -saying. "Thar's a hundred acres even, some good bottom land and upland, -an' in the neighborhood o' thirty acres o' good wood. Then thar's -a five-room house, well made an' tight, an' a barn, cow-house, an' -stable." - -"Lord! I know the place like a book," said Pole; "an' it's a dandy -investment, Mr. Bishop. They say he offered it fer fifteen hundred. It's -wuth two thousand. You won't drap any money by buyin' that property, -Mr. Bishop. I'd hate to contract to build jest the house an' well an' -out-houses fer a thousand." - -"I bought it," Bishop told him. "He let me have it fer a good deal less -'n fifteen hundred, cash down." - -"Well, you made a dandy trade, Mr. Bishop. Ah, that's what ready money -will do. When you got the cash things seem to come at bottom figures." - -Old Bishop drew a folded paper from his pocket and slapped it on his -knee. "Yes, I closed the deal this evenin', an' I was jest a-thinkin' -that as you hain't rented fer next yeer--I mean--" Bishop was ordinarily -direct of speech, but somehow his words became tangled, and he delivered -himself awkwardly on this occasion. "You see, Alan thinks that you -'n Sally ort to live in a better house than jest this heer log-cabin, -an'--" - -The wan face of the tired woman was aglow with expectation. She sank -down on the doorstep, and sat still and mute, her hands clasping each -other in her lap. She had always disliked that cabin and its sordid -surroundings, and there was something in Bishop's talk that made her -think he was about to propose renting the new farm, house and all, -to her husband. Her mouth fell open; she scarcely allowed herself to -breathe. Then, as Bishop paused, her husband's voice struck dumb dismay -to her heart. It was as if she were falling from glowing hope back to -tasted despair. - -"Thar's more land in that farm an' I could do jestice to, Mr. Bishop; but -ef thar's a good cabin on it an' you see fit to cut off enough fer me'n -one hoss I'd jest as soon tend that as this heer. I want to do what you -an' Alan think is best all'round." - -"Oh, Pole, Pole!" The woman was crying it to herself, her face lowered -to her hands that the two men might not see the agony written in her -eyes. A house like that to live in, with all those rooms and fireplaces, -and windows with panes of glass in them! She fancied she saw her -children playing on the tight, smooth floors and on the honeysuckled -porch. For one minute these things had been hers, to be snatched away -by the callous indifference of her husband, who, alas! had never cared a -straw for appearances. - -"Oh, I wasn't thinking about _rentin'_ it to you," said Bishop, and the -woman's dream was over. She raised her head, awake again. "You -see," went on Bishop, still struggling for proper expression, "Alan -thinks--well, he thinks you are sech a born fool about not acceptin' -help from them that feels nigh to you, an' I may as well say grateful, -exceedingly grateful, fer what you've done, things that no other livin' -man could 'a' done. Alan thinks you ort to have the farm fer yore own -property, an' so the deeds has been made out to--" - -Pole drew himself up to his full height. His big face was flushed, half -with anger, half with a strong emotion of a tenderer kind. He stood -towering over the old man like a giant swayed by the warring winds of -good and evil, "I won't heer a word more of that, Mr. Bishop," he said, -with a quivering lip; "not a word more. By golly! I mean what I say. I -don't want to heer another word of it. This heer place is good enough -fer me an' my family. It's done eight yeer, an' it kin do another -eight." - -"Oh, Pole, Pole, _Pole!_" The woman's cry was now audible. It came -straight from her pent-up, starving soul and went right to Bishop's -heart. - -"You want the place, don't you, Sally?" he said, calling her by her -given name for the first time, as if he had just discovered their -kinship. He could not have used a tenderer tone to child of his own. - -"Mind, mind what you say, Sally!" ordered Pole, from the depths of his -fighting emotions. "Mind what you say!" - -The woman looked at Bishop. Her glance was on fire. - -"Yes, I want it--I _want_ it!" she cried. "I ain't goin' to lie. I want -it more right now than I do the kingdom of heaven. I want it ef we have -a right to it. Oh, I don't know." She dropped her head in her lap and -began to sob. - -Bishop stood up. He moved towards her in a jerky fashion and laid his -hand on the pitifully tight knot of hair at the back of her head. - -"Well, it's yores," he said. "Alan thought Pole would raise a kick agin -it, an' me'n him had it made out in yore name, so he couldn't tetch it. -It's yores, Sally Ann Baker. That's the way it reads." - -The woman's sobs increased, but they were sobs of unbridled joy. With -her apron to her eyes she rose and hurried into the house. - -The eyes of the two men met. Bishop spoke first: - -"You've got to give in, Pole," he said. "You'd not be a man to stand -betwixt yore wife an' a thing she wants as bad as she does that place, -an', by all that's good an' holy, you sha 'n' t." - -"What's the use o' me tryin' to git even with Alan," Pole exclaimed, -"ef he's eternally a-goin' to git up some 'n'? I've been tickled to death -ever since I cornered old Craig till now, but you an' him has sp'iled it -all by this heer trick. It ain't fair to me." - -"Well, it's done," smiled the old man, as he went to his horse; "an' ef -you don't live thar with Sally, I 'll make 'er git a divorce." - -Bishop had reached a little pig-pen in a fence-corner farther along, on -his way home, when Mrs. Baker suddenly emerged from a patch of high corn -in front of him. - -"Is he a-goin' to take it, Mr. Bishop?" she asked, panting from her -hurried walk through the corn that hid her from the view of the cabin. - -"Yes," Bishop told her; "I'm a-goin' to send two wagons over in the -morning to move yore things. I wish it was ten times as good a place -as it is, but it will insure you an' the children a living an' a -comfortable home." - -After the manner of many of her kind, the woman uttered no words of -thanks, but simply turned back into the corn, and, occupied with her own -vision of prosperity and choking with gratitude, she hurried back to the -cabin. - - - - -XXIX - - -[Illustration: 9253] - -HE summer ended, the autumn passed, 'and Christmas approached. Nothing -of much importance had taken place among the characters of this little -history. The Southern Land and Timber Company, and Wilson in particular, -had disappointed Miller and Alan by their reticence in regard to the -progress of the railroad scheme. At every meeting with Wilson they -found him either really or pretendedly indifferent about the matter. His -concern, he told them, was busy in other quarters, and that he really -did not know what they would finally do about it. - -"He can' t pull the wool over my eyes," Miller told his friend, after -one of these interviews. "He simply thinks he can freeze you out by -holding off till you have to raise money." - -"He may have inquired into my father's financial condition," suggested -Alan, with a long face. - -"Most likely," replied the lawyer. - -"And discovered exactly where we stand." - -"Perhaps, but we must not believe that till we know it. I'm going to -try to checkmate him. I don't know how, but I 'll think of something. -He feels that he has the upper hand now, but I 'll interest him some of -these days." - -Alan's love affair had also been dragging. He had had numerous -assurances of Dolly's constancy, but since learning how her father had -acted the night he supposed she had eloped with Alan, her eyes had been -opened to the seriousness of offending Colonel Barclay. She now -knew that her marriage against his will would cause her immediate -disinheritance, and she was too sensible a girl to want to go to Alan -without a dollar and with the doors of her home closed against her. -Besides, she believed in Alan' s future. She, somehow, had more faith in -the railroad than any other interested person. She knew, too, that she -was now more closely watched than formerly. She had, with firm finality, -refused Frank Hillhouse's offer of marriage, and that had not helped her -case in the eyes of her exasperated parent. Her mother occupied neutral -ground; she had a vague liking for Alan Bishop, and, if the whole truth -must be told, was heartily enjoying the situation. She was enjoying it -so subtly and so heartily, in her own bloodless way, that she was at -times almost afraid of its ending suddenly. - -On Christmas Eve Adele was expected home from Atlanta, and Alan had come -in town to meet her. As it happened, an accident delayed her train so -that it would not reach Darley till ten o' clock at night instead of six -in the evening, so there was nothing for her brother to do but arrange -for their staying that night at the Johnston House. Somewhat to Alan' -s surprise, who had never discovered the close friendship and constant -correspondence existing between Miller and his sister, the former -announced that he was going to spend the night at the hotel and drive -out to the farm with them the next morning. Of course, it was agreeable, -Alan reflected, but it was a strange thing for Miller to propose. - -From the long veranda of the hotel after supper that evening the two -friends witnessed the crude display of holiday fireworks in the street -below. Half a dozen big bonfires made of dry-goods boxes, kerosene and -tar barrels, and refuse of all kinds were blazing along the main street. -Directly opposite the hotel the only confectionery and toy store in the -place was crowded to overflowing by eager customers, and in front of it -the purchasers of fireworks were letting them off for the benefit of the -bystanders. Fire-crackers were exploded by the package, and every now -and then a clerk in some store would come to the front door and fire off -a gun or a revolver. - -All this noise and illumination was at its height when Adele's train -drew up in the car-shed. The bonfires near at hand made it as light as -day, and she had no trouble recognizing the two friends. - -"Oh, what an awful racket!" she exclaimed, as she released herself from -Alan' s embrace and gave her hand to Miller. - -"It's in your honor," Miller laughed, as, to Alan' s vast astonishment, -he held on to her hand longer than seemed right. "We ought to have had -the brass band out." - -"Oh, I'm so glad to get home," said Adele, laying her hand on Miller's -extended arm. Then she released it to give Alan her trunk-checks. "Get -them, brother," she said. "Mr. Miller will take care of me. I suppose -you are not going to drive home to-night." - -"Not if you are tired," said Miller, in a tone Alan had never heard -his friend use to any woman, nor had he ever seen such an expression -on Miller's face as lay there while the lawyer's eyes were feasting -themselves on the girl's beauty. - -Alan hurried away after the trunks and a porter. He was almost blind -with a rage that was new to him. Was Miller deliberately beginning a -flirtation with Adele at a moment's notice? And had she been so spoiled -by the "fast set" of Atlanta during her stay there that she would allow -it--even if Miller was a friend of the family? He found a negro porter -near the heap of luggage that had been hurled from the baggage-car, and -ordered his sister's trunks taken to the hotel. Then he followed the -couple moodily up to the hotel parlor. He was destined to undergo -another shock, for, on entering that room, he surprised Miller and Adele -on a sofa behind the big square piano with their heads suspiciously near -together, and so deeply were they engaged in conversation that, although -he drew up a chair near them, they paid no heed to him further than to -recognize his appearance with a lifting of their eyes. They were talking -of social affairs in Atlanta and people whose names were unfamiliar to -Alan. He rose and stood before the fireplace, but they did not notice -his change of position. Truly it was maddening. He told himself that -Adele's pretty face and far too easy manner had attracted Miller's -attention temporarily, and the fellow was daring to enter one of his -flirtations right before his eyes. Alan would give him a piece of his -mind at the first opportunity, even if he was under obligations to him. -Indeed, Miller had greatly disappointed him, and so had Adele. He had -always thought she, like Dolly Barclay, was different from other girls; -but no, she was like them all. Miller's attention had simply turned her -head. Well, as soon as he had a chance he would tell her a few things -about Miller and his views of women. That would put her on her -guard, but it would not draw out the poisoned sting left by Miller's -presumption, or indelicacy, or whatever it was. Alan rose and stood at -the fire unnoticed for several minutes, and then he showed that he -was at least a good chaperon, for he reached out and drew on the -old-fashioned bell-pull in the chimney-corner. The porter appeared, and -Alan asked: "Is my sister's room ready?" - -"Yes, it's good and warm now, suh," said the negro. "I started the fire -an hour ago." - -Miller and Adele had paused to listen. - -"Oh, you are going to hurry me off to bed," the girl said, with an -audible sigh. - -"You must be tired after that ride," said Alan, coldly. - -"That's a fact, you must be," echoed Miller. "Well, if you have to go, -you can finish telling me in the morning. You know I'm going to spend -the night here, where I have a regular room, and I 'll see you at -breakfast." - -"Oh, I'm so glad," said Adele. "Yes, I can finish telling you in the -morning." Then she seemed to notice her brother's long face, and she -laughed out teasingly: "I 'll bet he and Dolly are no nearer together -than ever." - -"You are right," Miller joined in her mood; "the Colonel still has his -dogs ready for Alan, but they 'll make it up some day, I hope. Dolly is -_next_ to the smartest girl I know." - -"Oh, you _are_ a flatterer," laughed Adele, and she gave Miller her -hand. "Don't forget to be up for early breakfast. We must start soon in -the morning. I'm dying to see the home folks." - -Alan was glad that Miller had a room of his own, for he was not in -a mood to converse with him; and when Adele had retired he refused -Miller's proffered cigar and went to his own room. - -Miller grunted as Alan turned away. "He's had bad news of some sort," -he thought, "and it's about Dolly Barclay. I wonder, after all, if she -would stick to a poor man. I begin to think some women would. Adele is -of that stripe--yes, she is, and isn't she stunning-looking? She's a -gem of the first water, straight as a die, full of pluck and--she's all -right--all right!" - -He went out on the veranda to smoke and enjoy repeating these things -over to himself. The bonfires in the street were dying down to red -embers, around which stood a few stragglers; but there was a blaze of -new light over the young man' s head. Along his horizon had dawned a -glorious reason for his existence; a reason that discounted every reason -he had ever entertained. "Adele, Adele," he said to himself, and then -his cigar went out. Perhaps, his thoughts ran on in their mad race with -happiness--perhaps, with her fair head on her pillow, she was thinking -of him as he was of her. - -Around the corner came a crowd of young men singing negro songs. They -passed under the veranda, and Miller recognized Frank Hillhouse's voice. -"That you, Frank?" Miller called out, leaning over the railing. - -"Yes--that you, Ray?" Hillhouse stepped out into view. "Come on; we are -going to turn the town over. Every sign comes down, according to custom, -you know. Old Thad Moore is drunk in the calaboose. They put him in late -this evening. We are going to mask and let him out. It's a dandy racket; -we are going to make him think we are White Caps, and then set him down -in the bosom of his family. Come on." - -"I can't to-night," declined Miller, with a laugh. "I'm dead tired." - -"Well, if you hear all the church bells ringing, you needn't think it's -fire, and jump out of your skin. We ain't going to sleep to-night, and -we don't intend to let anybody else do it." - -"Well, go it while you are young," Miller retorted, with a laugh, and -Hillhouse joined his companions in mischief and they passed on singing -merrily. - -Miller threw his cigar away and went to his room. He was ecstatically -happy. The mere thought that Adele Bishop was under the same roof with -him, and on the morrow was going to people who liked him, and leaned on -his advice and experience, gave him a sweet content that thrilled him -from head to foot. - -"Perhaps I ought to tell Alan," he mused, "but he 'll find it out soon -enough; and, hang it all, I can' t tell him how I feel about his own -sister, after all the rot I've stuffed into him." - - - - -XXX - - -[Illustration: 9260] - -HE next morning, as soon as he was up, Alan went to his sister's room. -He found her dressed and ready for him. She was seated before a cheerful -grate-fire, looking over a magazine she had brought to pass the time on -the train. - -"Come in," she said, pleasantly enough, he reflected, now that Miller -was not present to absorb her attention. "I expected you to get up a -little earlier. Those guns down at the bar-room just about daybreak -waked me, and I couldn't go to sleep again. There is no use denying -it, Al, we have a barbarous way of amusing ourselves up here in North -Georgia." - -He went in and stood with his back to the fire, still unable to rid his -brow of the frown it had worn the night before. - -"Oh, I reckon you've got too citified for us," he said, "along with -other accomplishments that fast set down there has taught you." - -Adele laid her book open on her lap. - -"Look here, Alan," she said, quite gravely. "What's the matter with -you?" - -"Nothing, that I know of," he said, without meeting her direct gaze. - -"Well, there is," she said, as the outcome of her slow inspection of his -clouded features. - -He shrugged his shoulders and gave her his eyes steadily. - -"I don't like the way you and Miller are carrying on." He hurled the -words at her sullenly. "You see, I know him through and through." - -"Well, that's all right," she replied, not flinching from his indignant -stare; "but what's that got to do with my conduct and his?" - -"You allow him to be too familiar with you," Alan retorted. "He's not -the kind of a man for you to--to act that way with. He has flirted with -a dozen women and thrown them over; he doesn't believe in the honest -love of a man for a woman, or the love of a woman for a man." - -"Ah, I am at the first of this!" Adele, instead of being put down by his -stormy words, was smiling inwardly. Her lips were rigid, but Alan saw -the light of keen amusement in her eyes. "Is he _really_ so dangerous? -That makes him doubly interesting. Most girls love to handle masculine -gunpowder. Do you know, if I was Dolly Barclay, for instance, an affair -with you would not be much fun, because I'd be so sure of you. The dead -level of your past would alarm me." - -"Thank Heaven, all women are not alike!" was the bolt he hurled at -her. "If you knew as much about Ray Miller as I do, you'd act in a more -dignified way on a first acquaintance with him." - -"On a first--oh, I see what you mean!" Adele put her handkerchief to her -face and treated herself to a merry laugh that exasperated him beyond -endurance. Then she stood up, smoothing her smile away. "Let's go -to breakfast. I'm as hungry as a bear. I told Rayburn--I mean your -dangerous friend, Mr. Miller--that we'd meet him in the dining-room. He -says he's crazy for a cup of coffee with whipped cream in it. I ordered -it just now." - -"The dev--" Alan bit the word in two and strode from the room, she -following. The first person they saw in the big dining-room was Miller, -standing at the stove in the centre of the room warming himself. He -scarcely looked at Alan in his eagerness to have a chair placed for -Adele at a little table reserved for three in a corner of the room, -which was presided over by a slick-looking mulatto waiter, whose father -had belonged to Miller's family. - -"I've been up an hour," he said to her. "I took a stroll down the street -to see what damage the gang did last night. Every sign is down or hung -where it doesn't belong. To tease the owner, an old negro drayman, whom -everybody jokes with, they took his wagon to pieces and put it together -again on the roof of Harmon's drug-store. How they got it there is -a puzzle that will go down in local history like the building of the -Pyramids." - -"Whiskey did it," laughed Adele; "that will be the final explanation." - -"I think you are right," agreed Miller. - -Alan bolted his food in grum silence, unnoticed by the others. Adele's -very grace at the table, as she prepared Miller's coffee, and her apt -repartee added to his discomfiture. He excused himself from the table -before they had finished, mumbling something about seeing if the horses -were ready, and went into the office. The last blow to his temper was -dealt by Adele as she came from the dining-room. - -"Mr. Miller wants to drive me out in his buggy to show me his horses," -she said, half smiling. "You won't mind, will you? You see, he 'll want -his team out there to get back in, and--" - -"Oh, I don't mind," he told her. "I see you are bent on making a goose -of yourself. After what I've told you about Miller, if you still--" - -But she closed his mouth with her hand. - -"Leave him to me, brother," she said, as she turned away. "I'm old -enough to take care of myself, and--and--well, I know men better than -you do." - -When Alan reached home he found that Miller and Adele had been there -half an hour. His mother met him at the door with a mysterious smile on -her sweet old face, as she nodded at the closed door of the parlor. - -"Don't go in there now," she whispered. "Adele and Mr. Miller have been -there ever since they come. I railly believe they are in love with -each other. I never saw young folks act more like it. When I met 'em it -looked jest like he wanted to kiss me, he was so happy. Now wouldn't it -be fine if they was to get married? He's the nicest man in the State, -and the best catch." - -"Oh, mother," said Alan, "you don't understand. Rayburn Miller is--" - -"Well, Adele will know how to manage him," broke in the old lady, too -full of her view of the romance to harken to his; "she ain't no fool, -son. She 'll twist him around her finger if she wants to. She's pretty, -an' stylish, an' as sharp as a brier. Ah, he's jest seen it all and -wants her; you can't fool me! I know how people act when they are in -love. I've seen hundreds, and I never saw a worse case on both sides -than this is." - -Going around to the stables to see that his horses were properly -attended to, Alan met his uncle leaning over the rail-fence looking -admiringly at a young colt that was prancing around the lot. - -"Christmas gift," said the old man, suddenly. "I ketched you that time -shore pop." - -"Yes, you got ahead of me," Alan admitted. - -The old man came nearer to him, nodding his head towards the house. -"Heerd the news?" he asked, with a broad grin of delight. - -"What news is that?" Alan asked, dubiously. "Young Miss," a name given -Adele by the negroes, and sometimes used jestingly by the family--"Young -Miss has knocked the props clean from under Miller." Alan frowned and -hung his head for a moment; then he said: - -"Uncle Ab, do you remember what I told you about Miller's opinion of -love and women in general?" - -The old man saw his drift and burst into a full, round laugh. - -"I know you told me what he said about love an' women in general, but I -don't know as you said what he thought about women in _particular_. This -heer's a particular case. I tell you she's fixed 'im. Yore little sis -has done the most complete job out o' tough material I ever inspected. -He's a gone coon; he 'll never make another brag; he's tied hand an' -foot." - -Alan looked straight into his uncle's eyes. A light was breaking on him. -"Uncle Ab," he said, "do you think he is--really in love with her?" - -"Ef he ain't, an' don't ax yore pa an' ma fer 'er before a month's gone, -I 'll deed you my farm. Now, look heer. A feller knows his own sister -less'n he does anybody else; that's beca'se you never have thought of -Adele follerin' in the trail of womankind. You'd hate fer a brother o' -that town gal to be raisin' sand about you, wouldn't you? Well, you go -right on an' let them two kill the'r own rats." - -Alan and his uncle were returning to the house when Pole Baker -dismounted at the front gate and came into the yard. - -Since becoming a landed proprietor his appearance had altered for the -better most materially. He wore a neat, well-fitting suit of clothes -and a new hat, but of the same broad dimensions as the old. Its brim was -pinned up on the right side by a little brass ornament. - -"I seed Mr. Miller drive past my house awhile ago with Miss Adele," he -said, "an' I come right over. I want to see all of you together." - -Just then Miller came out of the parlor and descended the steps to join -them. - -"Christmas gift, Mr. Miller!" cried Pole. "I ketched you that time." - -"And if I paid up, you'd cuss me out," retorted the lawyer, with a -laugh. "I haven't forgotten the row you raised about that suit of -clothes. Well, what's the news? How's your family?" - -"About as common, Mr. Miller," said Pole. "My wife's gittin' younger -an' younger ever'day. Sence she moved in 'er new house, an' got to -whitewashin' fences an' makin' flower-beds, an' one thing another, she -looks like a new person. I'd 'a' bought 'er a house long ago ef I'd 'a' -knowed she wanted it that bad. Oh, we put on the lugs now! We wipe with -napkins after eatin', an' my littlest un sets in a high-chair an' says -'Please pass the gravy,' like he'd been off to school. Sally says she's -a-goin' to send 'em, an' I don't keer ef she does; they 'll stand head, -ef they go; the'r noggin' s look like squashes, but they're full o' -seeds, an' don't you ferget it." - -"That they are!" intoned Abner Daniel. - -"I've drapped onto a little news," said Pole. "You know what a old -moonshiner cayn't pick up in these mountains from old pards ain't wuth -lookin' fer." - -"Railroad?" asked Miller, interestedly. - -"That's fer you-uns to make out," said Baker. "Now, I ain't a-goin' to -give away my authority, but I rid twenty miles yesterday to substantiate -what I heerd, an' know it's nothin' but the truth. You all know old -Bobby Milburn's been buyin' timber-land up about yore property, don't -you?" - -"I didn't know how much," answered Miller, "but I knew he had secured -some." - -"Fust and last in the neighborhood o' six thousand acres," affirmed -Pole, "an' he's still on the war-path. What fust attracted my notice was -findin' out that old Bobby hain't a dollar to his name. That made me -suspicious, an' I went to work to investigate." - -"Good boy!" said Uncle Abner, in an admiring undertone. - -"Well, I found out he was usin' Wilson's money, an' secretly buyin' fer -him; an' what's more, he seems to have unlimited authority, an' a big -bank account to draw from." - -There was a startled pause. It was broken by Miller, whose eyes were -gleaming excitedly. - -"It's blame good news," he said, eying Alan. - -"Do you think so?" said Alan, who was still under his cloud of -displeasure with his friend. - -"Yes; it simply means that Wilson intends to build that road. He's been -quiet, and pretending indifference, for two reasons. First, to bring us -to closer terms, and next to secure more land. Alan, my boy, the plot -thickens! I'm getting that fellow right where I want him. Pole, you have -brought us a dandy Christmas gift, but I 'll be blamed if you get a thing -for it. I don't intend to get shot." - -Then they all went to find Bishop to tell him the news. - - - - -XXXI - - -[Illustration: 9267] - -T was a cold, dry day about the middle of January. They were killing -hogs at the farm. Seven or eight negroes, men and women, had gathered -from all about in the neighborhood to assist in the work and get the -parts of the meat usually given away in payment for such services. - -Two hogsheads for hot water were half buried in the ground. A big iron -pot with a fire beneath it was heating water and a long fire of logs -heaped over with big stones was near by. When hot, the stones were to be -put into the cooling water to raise the temperature, it being easier to -do this than to replace the water in the pot. The hogs to be killed were -grunting and squealing in a big pen near the barn. - -Abner Daniel and old man Bishop were superintending these preparations -when Alan came from the house to say that Rayburn Miller had just ridden -out to see them on business. "I think it's the railroad," Alan informed -his father, who always displayed signs of almost childish excitement -when the subject came up. They found Miller in the parlor being -entertained by Adele, who immediately left the room on their arrival. -They all sat down before the cheerful fire. Miller showed certain signs -of embarrassment at first, but gradually threw them off and got down to -the matter in hand quite with his office manner. - -"I've got a proposition to make to you, Mr. Bishop," he opened up, -with a slight flush on his face. "I've been making some inquiries about -Wilson, and I am more and more convinced that he intends to freeze us -out--or you rather--by holding off till you are obliged to sell your -property for a much lower figure than you now ask him for it." - -"You think so," grunted Bishop, pulling a long face. - -"Yes; but what I now want to do is to show him, indirectly, that we are -independent of him." - -"Huh!" ejaculated Bishop, even more dejectedly--"huh! I say!" - -Alan was looking at Miller eagerly, as if trying to divine the point he -was about to make. "I must confess," he smiled, "that I can' t well see -how we can show independence right now." - -"Well, I think I see a way," said Miller, the flush stealing over his -face again. "You see, there is no doubt that Wilson is on his high -horse simply because he thinks he could call on you for that -twenty-five thousand dollars and put you to some trouble raising it -without--without, I say, throwing your land on the market. I can' t -blame him," Miller went on, smiling, "for it's only what any business -man would do, who is out for profit, but we must not knuckle to him." - -"Huh, huh!" Bishop grunted, in deeper despondency. - -"How do you propose to get around the knuckling process?" asked Alan, -who had caught the depression influencing his parent. - -"I'd simply take up that note," said the lawyer. "You know, under the -contract, we are privileged to pay it to-morrow if we wish. It would -simply paralyze him. He's so confident that you can' t take it up that -he has not even written to ask if you want to renew it or not. Yes; he's -confident that he 'll rake in that security--so confident that he has -been, as you know, secretly buying land near yours." - -Old Bishop's eyes were wide open. In the somewhat darkened room the -firelight reflected in them showed like illuminated blood-spots. He said -nothing, but breathed heavily. - -"But," exclaimed Alan, "Ray, you know we--father has invested that -money, and the truth is, that he and mother have already had so much -worry over the business that they would rather let the land go at what -was raised on it than to--to run any more risks." - -Bishop groaned out his approval of this elucidation of his condition and -sat silently nodding his head. The very thought of further risks stunned -and chilled him. - -Miller's embarrassment now descended on him in full force. - -"I was not thinking of having your father disturb his investments," he -said. "The truth is, I have met with a little financial disappointment -in a certain direction. For the last three months I have been raking -and scraping among the dry bones of my investments to get up exactly -twenty-five thousand dollars to secure a leading interest in a cotton -mill at Darley, of which I was to be president. I managed to get the -money together and only yesterday I learned that the Northern capital -that was to guarantee the thing was only in the corner of a fellow's eye -up in Boston--a man that had not a dollar on earth. Well, there you are! -I've my twenty-five thousand dollars, and no place to put it. I thought, -if you had just as soon owe me the money as Wilson, that you'd really be -doing me a favor to let me take up the note. You see, it would actually -floor him. He means business, and this would show him that we are not -asking any favors of him. In fact, I have an idea it would scare him out -of his skin. He'd think we had another opportunity of selling. I'm dying -to do this, and I hope you 'll let me work it. Really, I think you ought -to consent. I'd never drive you to the wall and--well--_he_ might." - -All eyes were on the speaker. Bishop had the dazed expression of a -bewildered man trying to believe in sudden good luck. Abner Daniel -lowered his head and shook with low, subdued laughter. - -"You are a jim-dandy, young man," he said to Miller. "That's all there -is about it. You take the rag off the bush. Oh, my Lord! They say in -Alt's meeting-house that it's a sin to play poker with no stakes, but -Alf's in a game with half the earth put up agin another feller's wad as -big as a bale o' hay. Play down, Alf. Play down. You've got a full hand -an' plenty to draw from." - -"We couldn't let you do this, Ray," expostulated Alan. - -"But I assure you it is merely a matter of business with me," declared -the lawyer. "You know I'm interested myself, and I believe we shall come -out all right. I'm simply itching to do it." - -Bishop's face was ablaze. The assurance that a wise young business man -would consider a purchase of his of sufficient value to put a large -amount of money on pleased him, banished his fears, thrilled him. - -"If you feel that way," he said, smiling at the corners of his mouth, -"go ahead. I don't know but what you are plumb right. It will show -Wilson that we ain't beholden to him, an' will set 'im to work ef -anything will." - -So it was finally settled, and no one seemed so well pleased with the -arrangement as Miller himself. Adele entered the room with the air of -one half fearful of intruding, and her three relatives quietly withdrew, -leaving her to entertain the guest. - -"I wonder what's the matter with your brother," Miller remarked, as his -eyes followed Alan from the room. - -"Oh, brother?" laughed Adele. "No one tries to keep up with his whims and -fancies." - -"But, really," said Miller, in a serious tone, "he has mystified me -lately. I wonder if he has had bad news from Dolly. I've tried to get -into a confidential chat with him several times of late, but he seems -to get around it. Really, it seems to me, at times, that he treats me -rather coldly." - -"Oh, if you waste time noticing Al you 'll become a beggar," and Adele -gave another amused laugh. "Take my advice and let him alone." - -"I almost believe you know what ails him," said Miller, eying her -closely. - -"I know what he _thinks_ ails him," the girl responded. - -"And won't you tell me what--what he thinks ails him?" - -"No, I couldn't do that," answered our young lady, with a knowing smile. -"If you are ever any wiser on the subject you will have to get your -wisdom from him." - -She turned to the piano and began to arrange some scattered pieces of -music, and he remained on the hearth, his back to the fire, his brow -wrinkled in pleased perplexity. - -"I 'll have to get my wisdom from him," repeated Miller, pronouncing each -word with separate distinctness, as if one of them might prove the key -to the mystery. - -"Yes, I should think two wise men could settle a little thing like that. -If not, you may call in the third--you know there were three of you, -according to the Bible." - -"Oh, so there were," smiled Miller; "but it's hard to tell when we three -shall meet again. The last time I saw the other two they were having -their sandals half-soled for a tramp across the desert. I came this way -to build a railroad, and I believe I'm going to do it. That's linking -ancient and modern times together with a coupling-pin, isn't it?" - -She came from the piano and stood by him, looking down into the fire. -"Ah," she said, seriously, "if you could _only_ do it!" - -"Would you like it very much?" - -"Very, very much; it means the world to us--to Alan, to father and -mother, and--yes, to me. I hunger for independence." - -"Then it shall be done," he said, fervently. - - - - -XXXII - - -[Illustration: 9273] - -S the elevator in the big building was taking Rayburn Miller up to the -offices of the Southern Land and Timber Company, many reflections passed -hurriedly through his mind. - -"You are going to get the usual cold shoulder from Wilson," he mused; -"but he 'll put it up against something about as warm as he's touched in -many a day. If you don't make him squirm, it will be only because you -don't want to." - -Wilson was busy at his desk looking over bills of lading, receipts, and -other papers, and now and then giving instructions to a typewriter in -the corner of the room. - -"Ahl how are you, Miller?" he said, indifferently, giving the caller his -hand without rising. "Down to see the city again, eh?" - -Rayburn leaned on the top of the desk, and knocked the ashes from his -cigar with the tip of his little finger. - -"Partly that and partly business," he returned, carelessly. - -"Two birds, eh?" - -"That's about it. I concluded you were not coming up our way soon, and -so I decided to drop in on you." - -"Yes, glad you did." Wilson glanced at the papers on his desk and -frowned. "Wish I had more time at my disposal. I'd run up to the club -with you and show you my Kentucky thoroughbreds, but I realty am rushed, -to-day particularly." - -"Oh, I haven't a bit of time to spare myself! I take the afternoon train -home. The truth is, I came to see you for my clients, the Bishops." - -"Ah, I see." Wilson's face clouded over by some mechanical arrangement -known only to himself. "Well, I can' t realty report any progress in -that matter," he said. "All the company think Bishop's figures are away -out of reason, and the truth is, right now, we are over head and ears in -operations in other quarters, and--well, you see how it is?" - -"Yes, I think I do." Miller smoked a moment. "In fact, I told my clients -last month that the matter was not absorbing your attention, and so they -gave up counting on you." - -Wilson so far forgot his pose that he looked up in a startled sort of -way and began to study Miller's smoke-wrapped profile. - -"You say they are not--have not been counting on my company to--to buy -their land?" - -"Why, no," said Miller, in accents well resembling those of slow and -genuine surprise. "Why, you have not shown the slightest interest in -the matter since the day you made the loan, and naturally they ceased to -think you wanted the land. The only reason I called was that the note is -payable to-day, and--" - -"Oh yes, by Jove! that was careless of me. The interest is due. I knew -it would be all right, and I had no idea you would bother to run down -for that. Why, my boy, we could have drawn for it, you know." - -Miller smiled inwardly, as he looked calmly and fixedly through his -smoke into the unsuspecting visage upturned to him. - -"But the note itself is payable to-day," he said, closely on the alert -for a facial collapse; "and, while you or I might take up a paper for -twenty-five thousand dollars through a bank, old-fashioned people like -Mr. and Mrs. Bishop would feel safer to have it done by an agent. That's -why I came." - -Miller, in silent satisfaction, saw the face of his antagonist fall to -pieces like an artificial flower suddenly shattered. - -"Pay the note?" gasped Wilson. "Why--" - -Miller puffed at his cigar and gazed at his victim as if slightly -surprised over the assumption that his clients had not, all along, -intended to avail themselves of that condition in their contract. - -"You mean that the Bishops are ready to--" Wilson began again on another -breath--"to pay us the twenty-five thousand dollars?" - -"And the interest for six months," quietly added Miller, reaching for a -match on the desk. "I reckon you've got the note here. I don't want to -miss my train." - -Wilson was a good business man, but his Puritanical training in New -England had not fitted him for wily diplomacy; besides, he had not -expected to meet a diplomat that day, and did not, even now, realize -that he was in the hands of one. He still believed that Miller was -only a half-educated country lawyer who had barely enough brains and -experience to succeed as a legal servant for mountain clients. Hence, -he now made little effort to conceal his embarrassment into which the -sudden turn of affairs had plunged him. In awkward silence he squirmed -in his big chair. - -"Of course, they can take up their note to-day if they wish," he said, -with alarmed frankness. "I was not counting on it, though." He rose -to his feet. Miller's watchful eye detected a certain trembling of his -lower lip. He thrust his hands into his pockets nervously; and in a tone -of open irritation he said to the young man at the typewriter: "Brown, -I wish you'd let up on that infernal clicking; sometimes I can stand it, -and then again I can' t. You can do those letters in the next room." - -When the young man had gone out, carrying his machine, Wilson turned to -Miller. "As I understand it, you, personally, have no interest in the -Bishop property?" - -"Oh, not a dollar!" smiled the lawyer. "I'm only acting for them." - -"Then"--Wilson drove his hands into his pockets again--"perhaps you -wouldn't mind telling me if the Bishops are on trade with other parties. -Are they?" - -Miller smiled and shook his head. "As their lawyer, Mr. Wilson, I simply -couldn't answer that question." - -The blow was well directed and it struck a vulnerable spot. - -"I beg your pardon," Wilson stammered. "I did not mean to suggest that -you would betray confidence." He reflected a moment, and then he said, -in a flurried tone, "They have not actually sold out, have they?" - -Miller was silent for a moment, then he answered: "I don't see any -reason why I may not answer that question I don't think my clients would -object to my saying that they have not yet accepted any offer." - -A look of relief suffused itself over Wilson's broad face. - -"Then they are still open to accept their offer to me?" - -Miller laughed as if highly amused at the complication of the matter. - -"They are bound, you remember, only so long as you hold their note." - -"Then I tell you what to do," proposed Wilson. "Go back and tell them -not to bother about payment, for a few days, anyway, and that we will -soon tell them positively whether we will pay their price or not. That's -fair, isn't it?" - -"It might seem so to a man personally interested in the deal," admitted -Miller, as the introduction to another of his blows from the shoulder; -"but as lawyer for my clients I can only obey orders, like the boy who -stood on the burning deck." - -Wilson's face fell. The remote clicking of the typewriter seemed to -grate upon his high-wrought nerves, and he went and slammed the partly -opened door, muttering something like an oath. On that slight journey, -however, he caught an idea. - -"Suppose you wire them my proposition and wait here for a reply," he -suggested. - -Miller frowned. "That would do no good," he said. "I'm sorry I can' t -explain fully, but the truth is this: I happen to know that they wish, -for reasons of their own, to take up the note you hold, and that nothing -else will suit them." - -At this juncture Wilson lost his grip on all self-possession, -and degenerated into the sullen anger of sharp and unexpected -disappointment. - -"I don't feel that we are being fairly treated," he said. "We most -naturally assumed that your clients wanted to--to extend our option on -the property for at least another six months. We assumed that from the -fact that we had no notification from them that they would be ready to -pay the note to-day. That's where we feel injured, Mr. Miller." - -Rayburn threw his cigar into a cuspidor; his attitude of being a -non-interested agent was simply a stroke of genius. Behind this plea -he crouched, showing himself only to fire shots that played havoc with -whatever they struck. - -"I believe my clients _did_ feel, I may say, honor bound to you to sell -for the price they offered; but--now I may be mistaken--but I'm sure -they were under the impression, as I was, too, that you only wanted the -property provided you could build a railroad from Dar-ley to it, and--" - -"Well, that's true," broke in Wilson. "That's quite true." - -"And," finished Miller, still behind his inevitable fortification, "they -tell me that you have certainly shown indifference to the project ever -since the note was given. In fact, they asked me pointedly if I thought -you meant business, and I was forced, conscientiously, to tell them that -I thought you seemed to have other fish to fry." - -Wilson glared at the lawyer as if he wanted to kick him for a stupid -idiot who could not do two things at once--work for the interests of his -clients and not wreck his plans also. It had been a long time since he -had found himself in such a hot frying-pan. - -"So you think the thing is off," he said, desperately, probably -recalling several purchases of land he had made in the section he had -expected to develop. "You think it's off?" - -"I hardly know what to say," said Miller. "The old gentleman, Mr. -Bishop, is a slow-going old-timer, but his son is rather up to date, -full of energy and ambition. I think he's made up his mind to sell that -property." - -Wilson went to his desk, hovered over it like a dark, human cloud, and -then reluctantly turned to the big iron safe against the wall, obviously -to get the note. His disappointment was too great for concealment. With -his fat, pink hand on the silver-plated combination-bolt he turned to -Miller again. - -"Would you mind sitting down till I telephone one or two of the -directors?" - -"Not at all," said Miller, "if you 'll get me a cigar and the -_Constitution_. The Atlanta baseball team played Mobile yesterday, and I -was wondering--" - -"I don't keep track of such things," said Wilson, coming back to his -desk, with an impatient frown, to ring his call-bell for the office-boy. - -"Oh yes, I believe football is your national sport," said Miller, with -a dry smile. "Well, it's only a difference between arms and legs--whole -bones and casualties." - -Wilson ordered the cigar and paper when the boy appeared, and, leaving -the lawyer suddenly, he went into the room containing the telephone, -closing the door after him. - -In a few minutes he reappeared, standing before Miller, who was -chewing a cold cigar and attentively reading. He looked up at Wilson -abstractedly. - -"Bully for Atlanta!" he said. "The boys made ten runs before the Mobiles -had scored--" - -"Oh, come down to business!" said the New-Eng-lander, with a ready-made -smile. "Honestly, I don't believe you drowsy Southerners ever will get -over your habit of sleeping during business hours. It seems to be bred -in the bone." - -Miller laughed misleadingly. "Try to down us at a horse-race and we 'll -beat you in the middle of the night. Hang it all, man, you don't know -human nature, that's all! How can you expect me, on my measly fees, to -dance a breakdown over business I am transacting for other people?" - -"Well, that may account for it," admitted Wilson, who seemed bent on -being more agreeable in the light of some fresh hopes he had absorbed -from the telephone-wires. "See here, I've got a rock-bottom proposal -to make to your people. Now listen, and drop that damned paper for a -minute. By Jove! if I had to send a man from your State to attend to -legal business I'd pick one not full of mental morphine." - -"Oh, you wouldn't?" Miller laid down the paper and assumed a posture -indicative of attention roused from deep sleep. "Fire away. I'm -listening." - -"I already had authority to act for the company, but I thought it best -to telephone some of the directors." Wilson sat down in his chair and -leaned towards the lawyer. "Here's what we will do. The whole truth is, -we are willing to plank down the required one hundred thousand for -that property, provided we can lay our road there without incurring the -expense of purchasing the right of way. Now if the citizens along the -proposed line want their country developed bad enough to donate the -right of way through their lands, we can trade." - -There was a pause. Then Miller broke it by striking a match on the sole -of his boot. He looked crosseyed at the flame as he applied it to -his cigar. "Don't you think your people could stand whatever value is -appraised by law in case of refusals along the line?" - -"No," said Wilson. "The price for the land is too steep for that. Your -clients have our ultimatum. What do you say? We can advertise a meeting -of citizens at Springtown, which is about the centre of the territory -involved, and if all agree to give the right of way it will be a trade. -We can have the meeting set for to-day two weeks. How does that strike -you?" - -"I'd have to wire my clients." - -"When can you get an answer?" - -Miller looked at his watch. "By five o' clock this afternoon. The -message would have to go into the country." - -"Then send it off at once." - -A few minutes after five o' clock Miller sauntered into the office. -Wilson sat at his desk and looked up eagerly. - -"Well?" he asked, almost under his breath. - -The lawyer leaned on the top of the desk. "They are willing to grant you -the two weeks' time, provided you sign an agreement for your firm that -you will purchase their property at the price named at the expiration of -that time." - -"With the provision," interpolated Wilson, "that a right of way is -donated." - -"Yes, with that provision," Miller nodded. - -"Then sit down here and write out your paper." - -Miller complied as nonchalantly as if he were drawing up a bill of sale -for a worn-out horse. - -"There you are," he said, pushing the paper to Wilson when he had -finished. - -Wilson read it critically. "It certainly is binding," he said. "You -people may sleep during business hours, but you have your eyes open when -you draw up papers. However, I don't care; I want the Bishops to feel -secure. They must get to work to secure the right of way. It will be no -easy job, I 'll let you know. I've struck shrewd, obstinate people in my -life, but those up there beat the world. Noah couldn't have driven them -in the ark, even after the Flood set in." - -"You know something about them, then?" said Miller, laughing to himself -over the implied confession. - -Wilson flushed, and then admitted that he had been up that way several -times looking the situation over. - -"How about the charter?" asked Miller, indifferently. - -"That's fixed. I have already seen to that." - -"Then it all depends on the right of way," remarked the lawyer as he -drew a check from his pocket and handed it to Wilson. "Now get me that -note," he said. - -Wilson brought it from the safe. - -"Turning this over cuts my option down to two weeks," he said. "But -we 'll know at the meeting what can be done." - -"Yes, we 'll know then what they can do with _you_," said Miller, -significantly, as he put the cancelled note in his pocket and rose to -go. - - - - -XXXIII - - -[Illustration: 9283] - -HEN Miller's train reached Darley and he alighted in the car-shed, he -was met by a blinding snow-storm. He could see the dim lantern of the -hotel porter as he came towards him through the slanting feathery sheet -and the yet dimmer lights of the hotel. - -"Heer! Marse Miller!" shouted the darky; "look out fer dat plank er -you 'll fall in er ditch. Marse Alan Bishop is at de hotel, an' he say -tell you ter stop dar--dat you couldn't git home in dis sto'm no how." - -"Oh, he's in town," said Miller. "Well, I was thinking of spending the -night at the hotel, anyway." - -In the office of the hotel, almost the only occupant of the room besides -the clerk, sat Abner Daniel, at the red-hot coal stove. - -"Why," exclaimed Miller, in surprise, "I didn't know you were in town." - -"The fact is, we're all heer," smiled the old man, standing up and -stretching himself. He looked as if he had been napping. "We fetched the -women in to do some tradin', an' this storm blowed up. We could 'a' made -it home all right," he laughed out impulsively, "but the last one of 'em -wanted a excuse to stay over. They are et up with curiosity to know how -yore trip come out. They are all up in Betsy an' Alf's room. Go up?" - -"Yes, I reckon I'd better relieve their minds." - -Abner offered to pilot him to the room in question, and when it was -reached the old man opened the door without knocking. "Heer's the -man you've been hankerin' to see all day," he announced, jovially. "I -fetched 'im straight up." - -They all rose from their seats around the big grate-fire and shook hands -with the lawyer. - -"He looks like he has news of some kind," said Adele, who was studying -his face attentively. "Now, sir, sit down and tell us are we to be rich -or poor, bankrupt or robber." - -"Don't put the most likely word last," said Abner, dryly. - -"Well," began Miller, as he sat down in the semicircle. "As it -now stands, we've got a chance to gain our point. I have a signed -agreement--and a good one--that your price will be paid if we can get -the citizens through whose property the road passes to donate a right of -way. That's the only thing that now stands between you and a cash sale." - -"They 'll do it, I think," declared Alan, elatedly. - -"I dunno about that," said Abner. "It's owin' to whose land is to be -donated. Thar's some skunks over in them mountains that wouldn't let -the gates o' heaven swing over the'r property except to let themselves -through." - -No one laughed at this remark save Abner himself. Mrs. Bishop was -staring straight into the fire. Her husband leaned forward and twirled -his stiff fingers slowly in front of him. - -"Huh! So it depends on _that_," he said. "Well, it _does_ look like -mighty nigh anybody ud ruther see a railroad run out thar than not, but -I'm no judge." - -"Well, it is to be tested two weeks from now," Miller said. And then he -went into a detailed and amusing account of how he had brought Wilson to -terms. - -"Well, that beats the Dutch!" laughed Abner. "I'd ruther 'a' been thar -'an to a circus. You worked 'im to a queen's taste--as fine as split -silk. You 'n' Pole Baker'd make a good team--you to look after the -bon-tons an' him to rake in the scum o' mankind. I don't know but Pole -could dress up an' look after both ends, once in a while, ef you wanted -to take a rest." - -"I'm always sorry when I heer of it bein' necessary to resort to -trickery," ventured Mrs. Bishop, in her mild way. "It don't look exactly -right to me." - -"I don't like it, nuther," said Bishop. "Ef the land's wuth the money, -an'--" - -"The trouble with Alf," broke in Abner, "is that with all his Bible -readin' he never seems to git any practical benefit out'n it. Now, when -I'm in doubt about whether a thing's right or wrong, I generally find -some Scriptural sanction fer the side I want to win. Some'rs in the -Bible thar was a big, rich king that sent a pore feller off to git 'im -kilt in battle so he could add his woman to his collection. Now, no harm -ever come to the king that I know of, an', fer my part, I don't think -what you did to yank Wilson into line was nigh as bad, beca'se you was -work-in' fer friends. Then Wilson was loaded fer bear his-se'f. War's -over, I reckon, but when Wilson's sort comes down heer expectin' to ride -rough-shod over us agin, I feel like givin' a war-whoop an' rammin' home -a Minié ball." - -"I sha 'n't worry about the morality of the thing," said Miller. "Wilson -was dead set on crushing you to powder. I saw that. Besides, if he takes -the property and builds the road, he 'll make a lot of money out of it." - -After this the conversation languished, and, thinking that the old -people might wish to retire, Miller bade them good-night and went to his -own room. - -A snow of sufficient thickness for sleighing in that locality was a rare -occurrence, and the next morning an odd scene presented itself in front -of the hotel. The young men of the near-by stores had hastily improvised -sleds by taking the wheels from buggies and fastening the axles to rough -wooden runners, and were making engagements to take the young ladies of -the town sleighing. - -"Have you ever ridden in a sleigh?" Miller asked Adele, as they stood at -a window in the parlor witnessing these preparations. - -"Never in my life," she said. - -"Well, you shall," he said. "I 'll set a carpenter at work on my buggy, -and be after you in an hour. Get your wraps. My pair of horses will make -one of those sleds fairly spin." - -About eleven o' clock that morning Alan saw them returning from their -ride, and, much to his surprise, he noted that Dolly Barclay was with -them. As they drew up at the entrance of the hotel, Alan doffed his hat -and stepped forward to assist the ladies out of the sled. - -"Miss Dolly won't stop," said Miller. "Get in and drive her around. -She's hardly had a taste of it; we only picked her up as we passed her -house." - -Alan's heart bounded and then it sank. Miller was smiling at him -knowingly. "Go ahead," he said, pushing him gently towards the sled. -"It's all right." - -Hardly knowing if he were acting wisely, Alan took the reins and sat -down by Dolly. - -Adele stepped up behind to say good-bye to Dolly, and they kissed each -other. It was barely audible, and yet it reached the ears of the restive -horses and they bounded away like the wind. - -"A peculiar way to start horses," Alan laughed. - -"A pleasant way," she said. "Your sister is a dear, dear girl." - -Then he told her his fears in regard to what her father would think of -his driving with her. - -"He's out of town to-day," she answered, with a frank upward glance, -"and mother wouldn't care." - -"Then I'm going to enjoy it fully," he said. "I've been dying to see -you, Dolly." - -"And do you suppose I haven't wanted to see you? When Mr. Miller -proposed this just now it fairly took my breath away. I was afraid you -might happen not to be around the hotel. Oh, there is so much I want to -say--and so little time." - -"When I'm with you I can' t talk," he said. "It seems, in some way, -to take up time like the ticking of a clock. I simply want to close my -eyes, and--be with you, Dolly--_YOU_." - -"I know, but we must be practical, and think of the future. Mr. Miller -tells me there is a chance for your big scheme to succeed. Oh, if it -only would!" - -"Yes, a pretty good chance," he told her; "but even then your father--" - -"He'd not hold out against you then," said Dolly, just for an impulsive -moment clasping his arm as they shot through a snow-drift and turned a -corner of the street leading into the country. - -"Then it must succeed," he said, looking at her tenderly. "It _must_, -Dolly." - -"I shall pray for it--that and nothing else." - -Feeling the slack reins on their backs, the horses slowed up till they -were plodding along lazily. Suddenly the sled began to drag on the clay -road where the wind had bared it of snow, and the horses stopped of -their own accord, looking back at their increased burden inquiringly. -Alan made no effort to start them on again. It was a sequestered spot, -well hidden from the rest of the road by an old hedge of Osage orange -bushes. - -"We must not stop, _dear_," Dolly said, laying her hand again on his -arm. "You know driving is--is different from this. As long as we are -moving in any direction, I have no scruples, but to stop here in the -road--no, it won't do." - -"I was just wondering if we can start them," he said, a mischievous look -in his laughing eye. - -"Start them?" She extended her hand for the reins, but he held them out -of her reach. "Why, what do you mean?" - -"Why, you saw the way they were started at the hotel," he answered, in -quite a serious tone. "Ray has trained them-that way. They won't budge -an inch unless--" - -"Oh, you silly boy!" Dolly was flushing charmingly. - -"It's true," he said. "I'm sorry if you object, for it's absolutely the -only available way." - -She raised her full, trusting eyes to his. - -"You make me want to kiss you, Alan, but--" - -He did not let her finish. Putting his arm around her, he drew her close -to him and kissed her on the lips. "Now, darling," he said, "you are -mine." - -"Yes, I am yours, Alan." - -As they were nearing her house he told her that Wilson had agents out -secretly buying land, and that she must not allow her father to dispose -of his timbered interests until it was decided whether the railroad -would be built. - -She promised to keep an eye on the Colonel's transactions and do all she -could to prevent him from taking a false step. "You may not know it," -she said, "but I'm his chief adviser. He 'll be apt to mention any offer -he gets to me." - -"Well, don't tell him about the railroad unless you have to," he said, -in parting with her at the gate. "But it would be glorious to have him -profit by our scheme, and I think he will." - -"We are going to hope for success, anyway, aren't we?" she said, leaning -over the gate. "I have believed in you so much that I feel almost sure -you are to be rewarded." - -"Miller thinks the chances are good," he told her, "but father is afraid -those men over there will do their best to ruin the whole thing." - -Dolly waved her handkerchief to some one at a window of the house. "It's -mother," she said. "She's shaking her finger at me." - -"I reckon she's mad at me," said Alan, disconsolately. - -"Not much," Dolly laughed. "She's simply crazy to come out and gossip -with us. She would, too, if she wasn't afraid of father. Oh, young -man, you 'll have a mother-in-law that will reverse the order of things! -Instead of her keeping you straight, you 'll have to help us manage her. -Father says she's 'as wild as a buck.'" - -They both laughed from the fulness of their happiness. A buggy on -runners dashed by. It contained a pair of lovers, who shouted and waved -their hands. The sun was shining broadly. The snow would not last long. -The crudest sled of all passed in the wake of the other. It was simply -a plank about twelve inches wide and ten feet long to which a gaunt, -limping horse was hitched. On the plank stood a triumphant lad balancing -himself with the skill of a bareback rider. His face was flushed; he -had never been so full of joy and ozone. From the other direction came -a gigantic concern looking like a snow-plough or a metropolitan -street-sweeper. It was a sliding road-wagon to which Frank Hillhouse had -hitched four sturdy mules. The wagon was full of girls. Frank sat on the -front seat cracking a whip and smoking. A little negro boy sat astride -of the leading mule, digging his rag-clothed heels into the animal's -side. Frank bowed as he passed, but his face was rigid. - -"He didn't intend to ask me," said Dolly. "He hardly speaks to me -since--" - -"Since what?" Alan questioned. - -"Since I asked him not to come to see me so often. I had to do it. He -was making a fool of himself. It had to stop." - -"You refused him?" - -"Yes; but you must go now." Dolly was laughing again. "Mother will be -out here in a minute; she can't curb her curiosity any longer. She'd -make you take her riding, and I wouldn't have you do it for the world. -Good-bye." - -"Well, good-bye." - -"Now, you must hope for the best, Alan." - -"I'm going to. Good-bye." - - - - -XXXIV - - -[Illustration: 9292] - -OLLY had the opportunity to warn her father in regard to his financial -interests sooner than she expected. The very next morning, as she sat -reading at a window in the sitting-room, she overheard the Colonel -speaking to her mother about an offer he had just had for his mountain -property. - -"I believe it's a good chance for me to get rid of it," he was -saying, as he stood at the mantel-piece dipping his pipe into his blue -tobacco-jar. - -"I never did see any sense in paying taxes on land you have never seen," -said Mrs. Barclay, at her sewing-machine. "Surely you can put the money -where it will bring in something." - -"Milburn wants it because there is about a hundred acres that could be -cleared for cultivation. I'm of the opinion that it won't make as good -soil as he thinks, but I'm not going to tell him that." - -"Would you be getting as much as it cost you?" asked Mrs. Barclay, -smoothing down a white hem with her thumb-nail. - -"About five hundred more," her husband chuckled. "People said when -I bought it that I was as big a fool as old Bishop, but you see I've -already struck a purchaser at a profit." - -Then Dolly spoke up from behind her newspaper: "I wouldn't sell it, -papa," she said, coloring under the task before her. - -"Oh, you wouldn't?" sniffed her father. "And why?" - -"Because it's going to be worth a good deal more money," she affirmed, -coloring deeper and yet looking her parent fairly in the eyes. - -Mrs. Barclay broke into a rippling titter as she bent over her work. -"Alan Bishop put that in her head," she said. "They think, the Bishops -do, that they've got a gold-mine over there." - -"You must not sell it, papa," Dolly went on, ignoring her mother's -thrust. "I can't tell you why I don't want you to, but you must -not--you 'll be sorry if you do." - -"I don't know how I'm to keep on paying your bills for flimflam frippery -if I don't sell something," retorted the old man, almost and yet not -quite angry. Indirectly he was pleased at her valuation of his property, -for he had discovered that her judgment was good. - -"And she won't let Frank Hillhouse help," put in Mrs. Barclay, -teasingly. "Poor fellow! I'm afraid he 'll never get over it. He's taken -to running around with school-girls--that's always a bad sign." - -"A girl ought to be made to listen to reason," fumed Barclay, goaded on -to this attack by his wife, who well knew his sore spots, and liked to -rasp them. - -"A girl will listen to the right sort of reason," retorted Dolly, who -was valiantly struggling against an outburst. "Mamma knows how I feel." - -"I know that you are bent on marrying a man without a dollar to his -name," said her father. "You want to get into that visionary gang that -will spend all I leave you in their wild-cat investments, but I tell you -I will cut you out of my property if you do. Now, remember that. I mean -it." - -Dolly crushed the newspaper in her lap and rose. "There is no good -in quarrelling over this again," she said, coldly. "Some day you will -understand the injustice you are doing Alan Bishop. I could make you -see it now, but I have no right to explain." And with that she left the -room. - -Half an hour later, from the window of her room up-stairs, she saw old -Bobby Milburn open the front gate. Under his slouch hat and big gray -shawl he thumped up the gravelled walk and began to scrape his feet -on the steps. There was a door-bell, with a handle like that of a -coffee-mill, to be turned round, but old Bobby, like many of his kind, -either did not know of its existence, or, knowing, dreaded the use -of innovations that sometimes made even stoics like himself feel -ridiculous. His method of announcing himself was by far more sensible, -as it did not even require the removal of his hands from his pockets; -and, at the same time, helped divest his boots of mud. He stamped on -the floor of the veranda loudly and paused to listen for the approach of -some one to admit him. Then, as no one appeared, he clattered along the -veranda to the window of the sitting-room and peered in. Colonel -Barclay saw him and opened the door, inviting the old fellow into the -sitting-room. Old Bobby laid his hat on the floor beside his chair as he -sat down, but he did not unpin his shawl. - -"Well, I've come round to know what's yore lowest notch, Colonel," he -said, gruffly, as he brushed his long, stringy hair back from his ears -and side whiskers. "You see, it's jest this way. I kin git a patch o' -land from Lank Buford that will do me, in a pinch, but I like yore'n -a leetle grain better, beca'se it's nigher my line by a quarter or so; -but, as I say, I kin make out with Buford's piece; an' ef we cayn't -agree, I 'll have to ride over whar he is workin' in Springtown." - -At this juncture Dolly came into the room. She shook hands with -the visitor, who remained seated and mumbled out some sort of gruff -greeting, and went to her chair near the window, taking up her paper -again. Her eyes, however, were on her father's face. - -"I hardly know what to say," answered Barclay, deliberately. "Your price -the other day didn't strike me just right, and so I really haven't been -thinking about it." - -There was concession enough, Dolly thought, in Milburn's eye, if not in -his voice, when he spoke. "Well," he said, carelessly, "bein' as me'n -you are old friends, an' thar always was a sort o' neighborly feelin' -betwixt us, I 'll agree, if we trade, to hire a lawyer an' a scribe to -draw up the papers an' have 'em duly recorded. You know that's always -done by the party sellin'." - -"Oh, that's a _little_ thing," said the Colonel; but his watchful -daughter saw that the mere smallness of Milburn's raise in his offer had -had a depressing effect on her father's rather doubtful valuation of -the property in question. The truth was that Wilson had employed the -shrewdest trader in all that part of the country, and one who worked -all the more effectively for his plainness of dress and rough manner. -"That's a little thing," went on the Colonel, "but here's what I 'll -do--" - -"Father," broke in Dolly, "don't make a proposition to Mr. Milburn. -Please don't." - -Milburn turned to her, his big brows contracting in surprise, but he -controlled himself. "Heigho!" he laughed, "so you've turned trader, too, -Miss Dolly? Now, I jest wish my gals had that much enterprise; they git -beat ef they buy a spool o' thread." - -The Colonel frowned and Mrs. Barclay turned to Dolly with a real tone of -reproof. "Don't interfere in your father's business," she said. "He can -attend to it." - -The Colonel was not above making capital of the interruption, and he -smiled down on the shaggy visitor. - -"She's been deviling the life out of me not to part with that land. They -say women have the intuition to look ahead better than men. I don't know -but I ought to listen to her, but she ain't running me, and as I was -about to say--" - -"Wait just one minute, papa!" insisted Dolly, with a grim look of -determination on her face. "Just let me speak to you a moment in the -parlor, and then you can come back to Mr. Milburn." - -The face of the Colonel darkened under impatience, but he was afraid -failure to grant his daughter's request would look like over-anxiety to -close with Mil-burn, and so he followed her into the parlor across the -hallway. - -"Now, what on earth is the matter with you?" he demanded, sternly. "I -have never seen you conduct yourself like this before." - -She faced him, touching his arms with her two hands. - -"Father, don't be angry with me," she said, "but when you know what I -do, you will be glad I stopped you just now. Mr. Milburn is not buying -that land for his own use." - -"He isn't?" exclaimed the Colonel. - -"No; he's secretly employed by a concern worth over two million -dollars--the Southern Land and Timber Company of Atlanta." - -"What?" the word came out as suddenly as if some one had struck him on -the breast. - -"No," answered the girl, now pale and agitated. "To save Mr. Bishop -from loss, Alan and Rayburn Miller have worked up a scheme to build a -railroad from Darley to the Bishop property. All arrangements have been -made. There can be no hitch in it unless the citizens refuse to grant -a right of way. In a week from now a meeting is to be advertised. Of -course, it is not a certainty, but you can see that the chance is good, -and you ought not to sacrifice your land." - -"Good Heavens!" ejaculated Barclay, his eyes distended, "is this a -fact?" - -"I am telling you what I have really no right to reveal," said Dolly, -"but I promised Alan not to let you sell if I could help it." - -The Colonel was staggered by the revelation; his face was working under -strong excitement. "I thought that old rascal"--he meant Milburn--"was -powerfully anxious to trade. Huh! Looky' here, daughter, this news -is almost too good to be true. Why, another railroad would make my -town-lots bound up like fury, and as for this mountain-land--whew! It -may be as you say. Ray Miller certainly is a wheel-horse." - -"It was not his idea," said Dolly, loyally. "In fact, he tried his best -to discourage Alan at first--till he saw what could be done. Since then -he's been secretly working at it night and day." - -"Whew!" whistled the Colonel. "I don't care a cent _whose_ idea it is; -if it goes through it's a good one, and, now that I think of it, the -necessary capital is all that is needed to make a big spec' over there." - -"So you won't sell to Mr. Milburn, then?" asked Dolly, humbly grateful -for her father's change of mood. - -"Sell to that old dough-faced scamp?" snorted Barclay. "Well, he 'll -think I won't in a minute! Do you reckon I don't want to have some -sort o' finger in the pie? Whether the road's built or not, I want my -chance." - -"But remember I am giving away state secrets," said Dolly. "He must not -know that you have heard about the road." - -"I 'll not give that away," the old man promised, with a smile, and he -turned to the door as if eager to face Milburn. "Huh! That old scamp -coming here to do me one! The idea!" - -The two men, as they faced each other a moment later, presented an -interesting study of human forces held well in check. The Colonel leaned -on the mantel-piece and looked down at the toe of his boot, with which -he pushed a chunk of wood beneath the logs. - -"You never can tell about a woman' s whims, Mil-burn," he said. "Dolly's -set her heart on holding onto that land, and I reckon I'm too easily -wriggled about by my women folks. I reckon we'd better call it off." - -"Oh, all right--all right!" said Milburn, with a start and a sharp -contraction of his brows. "I'm that away some myse'f. My gals git me -into devilish scrapes sometimes, an' I'm always sayin' they got to stop -it. A man loses too much by lettin' 'em dabble in his business. But I -was jest goin' to say that I mought raise my bid fifty cents on the acre -ruther than trapse away over to Springtown to see Buford." - -There was silence through which several kinds of thoughts percolated. -The raise really amounted to so much that it materially increased -Barclay's growing conviction that the railroad was next to a certainty. -"Huh!" he grunted, his eyes ablaze with the amusement of a winner. "I -wouldn't listen to less than a dollar more on the acre." And as the -gaze of Milburn went down reflectively the Colonel winked slyly, even -triumphantly, at his smiling daughter and said: "Dolly thinks it will -make good land for a peach-orchard. Lots of money is being made that -way." - -"Bosh!" grunted Milburn. "It don't lie right fer peaches. You kin git -jest as much property nigh the railroad as you want fer peaches. You -are a hard man to trade with, but I reckon I 'll have to take yore offer -of--" - -"Hold on, hold on!" laughed the Colonel, his hand upraised. "I didn't -say I'd _take_ that price. I just said I wouldn't listen to less than -a dollar raise. I've listened to many a thing I didn't jump at, like a -frog in muddy water, not knowing what he's going to butt against." - -Under his big shawl Milburn rose like a tent blown upward by wind. -He was getting angry as he saw his commission money taking wing and -flitting out of sight. He had evidently counted on making an easy victim -of Barclay. For a moment he stood twisting his heavy, home-knit gloves -in his horny hands. - -"Now if it's a fair question," he said, as the last resort of a man -ready and willing to trade at any reasonable cost, "what _will_ you -take, cash down, on your honor between us--me to accept or decline?" - -The Colonel's pleasure was of the bubbling, overflowing kind. Every move -made by Milburn was adding fuel to his hopes of the proposed railroad, -and to his determination to be nobody's victim. - -"Look here," he said, "that land has been rising at such a rate since -you came in that I'm actually afraid to let it go. By dinner-time it may -make me rich. Dolly, I believe, on my word, Milburn has discovered gold -over there. Haven't you, Milburn? Now, honor bright." - -"It will be a long time before you find gold or anything else on that -land," Milburn retorted, as he reached for his hat and heavily strode -from the room. - -"Well! I do declare," and Mrs. Barclay turned to Dolly and her father. -"What on earth does this mean?" The Colonel laughed out, then slapped -his hand over his mouth, as he peered from the window to see if Milburn -was out of hearing. "It's just this way--" - -"Mind, father!" cautioned Dolly. "Do you want it to be all over town by -dinner-time?" - -"Dolly!" cried Mrs. Barclay, "the idea of such a thing!" - -Dolly smiled and patted her mother on the cheek. - -"Don't tell her, papa," she said, with decision. - -"The truth is," said the Colonel, "Dolly really wants to plant peaches. -I don't think there's much in it, but she will have her way." - -"Well, I call that _mean_ of you," retorted Mrs. Barclay, dark with -vexation. "Well, miss, I 'll bet you didn't tell your father who you went -sleigh-riding with." - -The old man frowned suddenly. "Not with Alan Bishop," he said, "after my -positive orders?" - -"He came to tell me about the--the"--Dolly glanced at her mother -suddenly--"about the peaches, papa." - -"Well"--the Colonel was waxing angry--"I won't have it--that's all. I -won't have you--" - -"Wait, papa," entreated the girl, sweetly, "wait till we see about -the--peaches!" And, with a little teasing laugh, she left the room. - - - - -XXXV - - -[Illustration: 9300] - -HE mass-meeting at Springtown was a most important event. It was held in -the court-house in the centre of the few straggling houses which made up -the hamlet. The entire Bishop family, including the servants, attended. -Pole Baker brought his wife and all the children in a new spring-wagon. -Darley society was represented, as the Springtown _Gazette_ afterwards -put it, by the fairest of the fair, Miss Dolly Barclay, accompanied by -her mother and father. - -The court-house yard was alive with groups of men eagerly talking over -the situation. Every individual whose land was to be touched by -the proposed road was on hand to protect his rights. Pole Baker was -ubiquitous, trying to ascertain the drift of matters. He was, however, -rather unsuccessful. He discovered that many of the groups ceased to -talk when he entered them. "Some 'n' s up," he told Alan and Miller in -the big, bare-looking court-room. "I don't know what it is, but I smell -a rat, an' it ain't no little one, nuther." - -"Opposition," said Miller, gloomily. "I saw that as soon as I came. If -they really were in favor of the road they'd be here talking it over -with us." - -"I'm afraid that's it," said Alan. "Joe Bartell is the most interested, -and he seems to be a sort of ringleader. I don't like the way he looks. -I saw him sneer at Wilson when he drove up just now. I wish Wilson -hadn't put on so much style--kid gloves, plug hat, and a negro driver." - -"No, that won't go down with this crowd," agreed Miller. "It might in -the slums of Boston, but not with these lords of the mountains. As -for Bartell, I think I know what ails him. He's going to run for the -legislature and thinks he can make votes by opposing us--convincing his -constituency that we represent moneyed oppression. Well, he may down us, -but it's tough on human progress." - -Alan caught Dolly's eye and bowed. She was seated near her father -and mother, well towards the judge's stand. She seemed to have been -observing the faces of the two friends, and to be affected by their -serious expressions. Adele sat at the long wood stove, several yards -from her parents, who appeared quite as if they were in church waiting -for service to begin. Abner Daniel leaned in the doorway opening into -one of the jury-rooms. Wilson had given him a fine cigar, which he -seemed to be enjoying hugely. - -At the hour appointed for the meeting, to open, a young man who held -the office of bailiff in the county, and seemed proud of his stentorian -voice, opened one of the windows and shouted: - -"Come in to court! Come in to court!" and the motley loiterers below -began to clatter up the broad stairs and fall into the seats. Joe -Bartell, a short, thick-set man in the neighborhood of fifty, with a -florid face and a shock of reddish hair, led about twenty men up the -aisle to the jury-benches at the right of the stand. They were the -land-owners whose consent to grant the right of way was asked. Stern -opposition was clearly written on the leader's brow and more or less -distinctly reflected on the varying faces of his followers. - -"Ef we needed it, it ud be a different matter," Miller overheard him say -in a sudden lull, as the big room settled down into sudden quiet, "but -we kin do without it. We've got along so fur an' we kin furder. All of -us has got good teams." - -Wilson, in his crisp, brusque way, made the opening speech. He told -his hearers just what his company proposed to do and in much the same -cold-blooded way as he would have dictated a letter to his stenographer, -correctly punctuating the text by pauses, and yet, in his own way, -endeavoring to be eloquent. He and his capital were going to dispel -darkness where it had reigned since the dawn of civilization; people -living there now would not recognize the spot ten years from the day the -first whistle of a locomotive shrilled through those rocky gorges and -rebounded from those lofty peaks--silent fingers pointing to God and -speaking of a past dead and gone. All that was needed, he finished, was -the consent of the property-owners appealed to; who, he felt confident, -would not stand in their own light. They looked like intelligent men, -and he believed they did not deceive appearances. - -He had hardly taken his seat when Joe Bartell stood up. Alan and -Miller exchanged ominous glances. They had at once recognized the -inappropriateness of Wilson's speech, and did not like the white, -twitching sneer on Bartell's smooth-shaven face. It was as if Bartell -had been for a long time seeking just such an opportunity to make -himself felt in the community, and there was no doubt that Wilson's -almost dictatorial speech had made a fine opening for him. - -"Fellow-citizens, an' ladies an' gentlemen," he began, "we are glad to -welcome amongst us a sort of a second savior in our Sodom an' Gomorry -of cracker-dom. What the gentleman with the plug hat an' spike-toe shoes -ain't a-goin' to do fer us the Lord couldn't. He looks nice an' talks -nice, an', to use his words, I don't believe he deceives appearances. -I 'll bet one thing, an' that is 'at he won't deceive us. Accordin' to -him we need 'im every hour, as the Sunday-school song puts it. Yes, he's -a-goin' to he'p us powerful an' right off. An', fellow-citizens, I'm -heer to propose a vote o' thanks. He's from away up in Boston, whar, -they tell me, a nigger sets an' eats at the same table with the whites. -When his sort come this away durin' the war, with all the'r up-to-date -impliments of slaughter, they laid waste to ever'thing they struck, shot -us like rabbits in holes, an' then went back an' said they'd had a -good hunt. But they've been livin' high up thar sence the war an' the'r -timber is a-playin' out, an' they want some more now, an' they _want it -bad_. So they send the'r representatives out to find it an' lay hold of -it. How does he happen to come heer? As well as I kin make out, old -Alf Bishop, a good man an' a Southern soldier--a man that I hain't got -nothin' agin, except maybe he holds his head too high, made up his mind -awhile back that lumber would be in demand some day, an' he set to work -buyin' all the timber-land he could lay his hands on. Then, when he had -more'n he could tote, an' was about to go under, he give this gentleman -a' option on it. Well, so fur so good; but, gentlemen, what have _we_ -got to do with this trade? Nothin' as I kin see. But we are expected to -yell an' holler, an' deed 'em a free right of way through our property so -they kin ship the timber straight through to the North an' turn it into -cold Yankee coin. We don't count in this shuffle, gentlemen. We git our -pay fer our land in bein' glad an' heerin' car-bells an' steam-whistles -in the middle o' the night when we want to sleep. The engynes will kill -our hogs, cattle, an' hosses, an' now an' then break the neck o' some -chap that wasn't hit in the war, but we mustn't forget to be glad an' -bend the knee o' gratitude. Of course, we all know the law kin compel -us to give the right of way, but it provides fer just and sufficient -payment fer the property used; an', gentlemen, I'm agin donations. I'm -agin' em tooth an' toe-nail." - -There was thunderous and ominous applause when Bartell sat down. Wilson -sat flushed and embarrassed, twirling his gloves in his hands. He had -expected anything but this personal fusillade. He stared at Miller in -surprise over that gentleman's easy, half-amused smile as he stood up. - -"Gentlemen," he began, "and ladies," he added, with a bow to the right -and left. "As many of you know, I pretend to practise law a little, and -I want to say now that I'm glad Mr. Bartell ain't in the profession. A -lawyer with his keen wit and eloquence could convict an innocent mother -before a jury of her own children. [Laughter.] And that's the point, -gentlemen; we are innocent of the charges against us. I am speaking -now of my clients, the Bishops. They are deeply interested in the -development of this section. The elder Bishop does hold his head high, -and in this case he held it high enough to smell coming prosperity -in the air. He believed it would come, and that is why he bought -timber-lands extensively. As for the accused gentleman from the Hub of -the Universe, I must say that I have known of him for several years and -have never heard a word against his character. He is not a farmer, but a -business man, and it would be unfair to judge him by any other standard. -He is not only a business man, but a big one. He handles big things. -This railroad is going to be a big thing for you and your children. -Yes, Wilson is all right. He didn't fight in the late unpleasantness. He -tells the women he was too young; but I believe he hadn't the heart -to fight a cause as just as ours. His only offence is in the matter of -wearing sharp-toed shoes. There is no law against 'em in Atlanta, and -he's simply gotten careless. He is ignorant of our ideas of proper -dress, as befitting a meek and lowly spirit, which, in spite of -appearances, I happen to know Wilson possesses. However, I have heard -him say that these mountains produce the best corn liquor that ever went -down grade in his system. He's right. It's good. Pole Baker says -it's good, and he ought to know. [Laughter, in which Pole joined -good-naturedly.] That reminds me of a story," Miller went on. "They -tell this of Baker. They say that a lot of fellows were talking of the -different ways they would prefer to meet death if it had to come. One -said drowning, another shooting, another poisoning, and so on; but Pole -reserved his opinion to the last. When the crowd urged him to say what -manner of death he would select, if he had to die and had his choice, he -said: 'Well, boys, ef I had to go, I'd like to be melted up into puore -corn whiskey an' poured through my throat tell thar wasn't a drap left -of me.'[Laughter and prolonged applause.] And Wilson said further, -gentlemen and ladies, that he believed the men and women of this -secluded section were, in their own way, living nearer to God than the -inhabitants of the crowded cities. Wilson is not bad, even if he has a -hang-dog look. A speech like Bartell's just now would give a hang-dog -look to a paling-fence. Wilson is here to build a railroad for your good -and prosperity, and he can' t build one where there is nothing to haul -out. If he buys up timber for his company, it is the only way to get -them to back him in the enterprise. Now, gentlemen of the opposition, -if there are any here to-day, don't let the thought of Wilson's possible -profit rob you of this golden opportunity. I live at Darley, but, as -many of you know, this is my father's native county, and I want to see -it bloom in progress and blossom like the rose of prosperity. I want to -see the vast mineral wealth buried in these mountains dug out for the -benefit of mankind wherever God's sunlight falls." - -Miller sat down amid much applause, a faint part of which came even from -the ranks of Bartell's faction. After this a pause ensued in which no -one seemed willing to speak. Colonel Barclay rose and came to Miller. - -"That was a good talk," he whispered. "You understand how to touch 'em -up. You set them to laughin'; that's the thing. I wonder if it would do -any good for me to try my hand." - -"Do they know you have any timber-land over here?" asked Miller. - -"Oh yes, I guess they do," replied the Colonel. - -"Then I don't believe I'd chip in," advised Miller. "Bartell would throw -it up to you." - -"I reckon you are right," said Barclay, "but for the Lord's sake do -something. It never will do to let this thing fall through." - -"I've done all I can," said Miller, dejectedly. "Bartell's got the -whole gang hoodooed--the blasted blockhead! Wouldn't he make a fine -representative in the legislature?" - -The Colonel went back to his seat, and Wilson came to Miller, just as -Alan approached. - -"It's going to fall flatter than a pancake," said Wilson. "My company -simply cannot afford to buy the right of way. Can' t you choke that -illiterate fellow over there or--or buy him off?" - -"He ain't that sort," said Miller, disconsolately. - -Alan glanced at his father and mother. On their wrinkled faces lay ample -evidences of dejection. The old man seemed scarcely to breathe. Up to -Bartell's speech he had seemed buoyantly hopeful, but his horizon had -changed; he looked as if he were wondering why he had treated himself to -such a bright view of a thing which had no foundation at all. - -At this juncture Abner Daniel rose from his seat near the stove and -slowly walked forward till he stood facing the audience. Immediately -quiet reigned, for he was a man who was invariably listened to. - -"Gentlemen an' ladies," he began, clearing his throat and wiping his -mouth with his long hand. "This ain't no put-in o' mine, gracious knows! -I hain't got nothin', an' I don't expect to lose or gain by what is done -in this matter, but I want to do what I kin fer what I think is right -an' proper. Fer my part, I don't think we kin do without a railroad -much longer. Folks is a-pokin' fun at us, I tell you. It's God's truth. -T'other day I was over at Darley a-walkin' along the railroad nigh -the turnin'-table, whar they flirt engynes round like children on a -flyin'-jinny, when all at once a big strappin' feller with a red flag in -his hand run up an' knocked me off'n the track kerwhallop in a ditch. It -was just in time to keep me from bein' run over by a switch-engyne. He -was as mad as Tucker. 'Looky' heer,' ses he, 'did you think that thing -was playin' tag with you an' ud tap you on the shoulder an' run an' hide -behind a tree? Say, ain't you from Short Pine Destrict, this side o' the -mountains?' I told 'im he'd guessed right, an' he said, 'I'lowed so, fer -thar ain't no other spot on the whirlin' globe that produces folks as -green as gourds.' Well, gentlemen, that floored me; it was bad enough -to be jerked about like a rag doll, but it was tough to heer my section -jeered at. 'What makes you say that?' I axed 'im, as I stood thar tryin' -to git a passle o' wet glass out o' my hip-pocket without cuttin' my -fingers. [Laughter, led by Pole Baker, who sensed the meaning of the -reference.] 'Beca'se,' ses he, 'you moss-backs over thar don't know the -war's over; a nigger from over thar come in town t'other day an' heerd -fer the fust time that he was free. Two men over thar swapped wives -without knowin' thar was a law agin it. Half o' you-uns never laid eyes -on a railroad, an' wouldn't have one as a free gift.' I turned off an' -left 'im an' went up on the main street. Up thar a barber ketched me -by the arm an' said, ses he: 'Come in an' le' me cut that hair. You are -from Short Pine, ain't you?' I axed him why he thought so, an' he said, -ses he, 'beca'se you got a Short Pine hair-cut.'' What's that?'ses I. -An' he laughed at a feller cocked up in a cheer an' said: 'It's a cut -that is made by the women out yore way. They jest turn a saucer upside -down on the men's heads an' trim around the edges. I could tell one a -mile; they make a man look like a bob-tailed mule.'[Laughter, loud and -prolonged.] Yes, as I said, they are a-pokin' all manner o' fun at us, -an' it's chiefly beca'se we hain't got no railroad. The maddest I ever -got on this line was down at Filmore's store one day. A little, slick -chap come along sellin' maps of the United States of America. They was -purty things on black sticks, an' I wanted one fer the wall o' my room. -I was about to buy one, but I thought I'd fust make shore that our -county was on it, so I axed the peddler to p'int it out to me. Well, -after some s'arch, he put his knife-blade on what he called this county, -but lo an' behold! it was mighty nigh kivered with round dots about the -size of fly-specks. 'What's the matter with it?'I axed 'im. 'Oh, you -mean them dots,' ses he, an' he turned to a lot o' reference words in -the corner of the map. 'Them,' ses he, 'them's put thar to indicate the -amount o' ignorance in a locality. You 'll find 'em in all places away -from the railroads; a body kin say what they please agin railroads, but -they fetch schools, an' books, an' enlightenment. You've got a good -many specks' ses he, kinder comfortin' like, 'but some o' these days a -railroad will shoot out this away, an' them brainy men amongst you will -git the chance God intends to give 'em,' Gentlemen, I didn't buy no map. -I wouldn't 'a' had the thing on my wall with them specks a-starin' me -in the face. It wouldn't 'a' done any good to scrape 'em off, fer the'r -traces would 'a' been left. No, friends, citizens, an' well-wishers, -thar ain't but one scraper that will ever rake our specks off, an' -that's the cow-catcher of a steam-engyne. I say let 'er come. Some -objection has been raised on the score o' killin' cattle. That reminds -me of a story they tell on old Burt Preston, who has a farm on the main -line beyant Darley. He was always a-gittin' his stock killed so fast, -an' a-puttin' in heavy claims fer damages, until folks begun to say he -made his livin' by buyin' scrub cattle an' sellin' mashed beef to the -corporation. One day the road sent out a detective to watch 'im, an' -he seed Burt drive a spindlin' yeerlin' out o' the thicket on the track -jest in time to get it knocked off by a through freight. The detective -went back an' reported, an' they waited to see what Preston ud do. -By the next mail they got a claim in which Preston said the yeerlin' -weighed eight hundred pound an' was a fine four-gallon milch-cow. They -threatened to jail 'im, an' Preston agreed to withdraw his claim. But -he got down-hearted an' traded his place fer a farm on t'other railroad, -an' the last I heerd o' him he was at his old trade agin. I reckon -that's about the way we 'll be damaged by gettin' our stock killed. -That's all I got to say, gentlemen. Let's git this road an' scrape our -fly-specks off." - -The big house shook with the applause that greeted this speech. Even the -opposition seemed to be wavering. Only Bartell kept a rigid countenance. -He rose and in a low voice invited his group to repair with him to one -of the jury-rooms. They got up and followed him out. As he was about to -close the door after them he nodded to Miller. "We 'll take a vote on it -an' let you know," he said, coldly. - -"He's going to talk to them," said Miller, aloud to Wilson. "Mr. -Daniel's speech almost shook them out of their boots, and he saw he was -losing ground. It looks squally." - -"You are right," said Wilson, gloomily. "Our chances are very slim." - -Miller caught Adele's eye and went to her. - -"I'm bound to say the outlook is not so favorable," he said. "If we -could have put it to a vote just after your uncle spoke we would have -clinched them, but Bartell thinks his election depends on beating us -today, and being the chief land-owner he has influence." - -"It will break my heart," said the girl, tremulously. "Poor father and -mother! They look as if they were on trial for their lives. Oh, I had so -much hope as we drove over here this morning, but now--" - -"I can' t bear to see you take it that way," said Miller, tenderly. "I -did not intend to speak to you so soon about another matter, but I can' -t put it off. You have become very, very dear to me, little girl. In -fact, I never dreamed there was such a thing as genuine, unselfish love -till I knew you. It seems to me that you were actually created for me. I -want you to be my wife. Somehow I feel that you care for me, at least -a little, and I believe when you realize how much I love you, and how -devoted I shall be, you will love me as I do you." - -To his surprise she averted her face and said nothing, though he -remarked that she had paled a little and compressed her lips. He waited -a moment, then said, anxiously: - -"Haven't you something to say, Adele? Perhaps I have misread you all -along and really have no right to hope. Oh, that would be hard to bear!" - -"It is not that," she said, her breast heaving suddenly. "It is not -that." - -"Not that?" he repeated, his wondering eyes fixed on hers. - -Then she turned to him. - -"Alan has told me of some of your talks to him about love, and--" - -"Oh, he has!" Miller laughed out uneasily. "But surely you wouldn't hold -anything against me that I said before I met you in Atlanta and fell -heels over head in love with you. Besides, I was simply stretching my -imagination to save him from making a serious mistake. But I know what -it is to care for a girl now, and I have wanted to tell him so, but -simply could not face him with my confession--when--when his own sister -was in question." - -"I have tried to believe," Adele hesitated, "that you had changed in -your ideas of love since--since we learned to know each other, and I -confess I succeeded to some extent, but there was one thing that simply -sticks and refuses to be eradicated. It sticks more right now than ever. -I mean this morning, since--" - -"Now you _do_ surprise me," declared Miller. "Please explain. Don't you -see I'm simply dying with impatience?" - -"You pressed the point in one of those talks with brother," said Adele, -quite firmly, "that it was impossible for two people of unequal fortune -to be happy together, and--" - -"Now you wouldn't surely hurl that rubbish at me," broke in Miller. "I -never would have dreamed of saying such a thing if I had not thought -Alan was about to butt his head against a stone wall in the hostility of -Colonel Barclay. If he had been fairly well off and she had been without -money I'd have said sail in and take her, but I knew what a mercenary -old man Barclay is, and I thought I could save the boy from a good many -heartaches." - -"That--even as you now put it--would be hard for a girl in my position -to forget," Adele told him. "For if this enterprise fails to-day, I -shall--just think of it!--I shall not only be penniless, but my father -will owe you a large amount of money that he never will be able to -pay. Oh, I could not bear to go to you under such circumstances! I have -always wanted my independence, and this grates on my very soul." - -Their eyes met in a long, steady stare. "Oh, you must--you really must -not see it that way," floundered the young man. "You will make me very -miserable. I can' t live without you, Adele. Besides, I shall not lose -by the loan I made to your father. The land will bring the money back -sooner or later, and what will it matter? You will be my wife and your -parents will be my parents. Already I love them as my own. Oh, darling, -don't turn me down this way! Really I can' t help the turn matters have -taken, and if you care for me you ought not to wreck our happiness for a -silly whim like this." - -She sat unmoved for a moment, avoiding the fervid glow of his -passion-filled eyes. - -"If this thing fails I shall be very unhappy," she finally said. "Its -success would not make me rich, but it would remove a debt that has -nearly killed me. I have never mentioned it, but it has been like a -sword hanging over my happiness." - -"Then it shall not fail," he told her. "It shall not fail! If those -blockheads vote against it, I 'll buy the right of way, if it takes the -last cent I've got." - -This forced a smile to Adele's lips. "Then we'd be as deep in the mud as -we now are in the mire," she said. Just then Pole Baker came to Miller. - -"I don't want to make no break," he said, "but I've got a idea I'd -like to work on them hill-Billies in the jury-room if you hain't no -objections. I hain't got time to tell you about it, but as you are -a-runnin' the shebang I thought I'd ax permission." - -"Go and do what you think best, Pole," said Miller, recklessly. "We -can trust to your head, and anything is better than nothing just now. I -really think it's gone by the board." - -"All right, thanky'," said Pole, as he shuffled away. He marched -straight to the jury-room, and, without rapping, opened the door and -went in, closing the door after him. He found the men all discussing the -matter and was delighted to find that the strength of the opposition now -rested chiefly in Bartell and a few men who seemed afraid to pull away -from him. Pole slid up to Bartell and said, as he drew him to one side: -"Say, Mr. Bartell, what on earth have you got agin Alan Bishop?" - -"Why, nothin', Pole, as I know of," said Bartell, rather sheepishly. -"Nothin' as I know of." - -"Well, it looks to me like you got a mighty pore way o' showin' -good-will. Why, he's the best friend you got, Mr. Bartell, an' totes -more votes in his vest-pocket fer you than any man in this county." - -"Huh! You don't say!" grunted Bartell, in slow surprise. "Well, he never -told _me_ about it." - -"Beca'se you hain't announced yorese'f yet," said Pole, with a steady -eye and a set face. "Why, he said t'other day to several of us at the -log-rollin'--you remember you rid by on yore bay, leadin' a milch-cow by -a rope. Well, after you passed Alan Bishop said: 'Boys, thar goes the -only man in this county that has convictions an' the courage to stand -by 'em. They say he's goin' to run fer the legislature an' ef he does, -I 'll do all I kin to elect 'im. He 'll make the best representative that -we ever had. He's got brains, _he_ has.'" - -"You don't say!" Bartell's face beamed, his eye kindled and flashed. - -"That's jest what!" - -"I hadn't the least idea he was fer me," said Bartell, drawing a deep -breath. "In fact, I 'lowed he would be agin anybody but a town man." - -"Alan never talks much," said Pole, in a tone of conviction; "he _acts_ -when the time comes fer it. But, la me, Mr. Bartell, this is agoin' to -break him all to pieces. He's in love with old Barclay's gal, an' she is -with him. Ef he puts this road through to-day he 'll git his daddy out -o' debt an' Barclay will withdraw his opposition. I don't know how -you feel, but I'd hate like smoke to bu'st a man all to flinders that -thought as much o' me as Alan does o' you." - -"I never knowed he was fer me," was Bartell's next tottering step in the -right direction. - -"Well, vote fer the right o' way, an' you kin ride to an' from Atlanta -durin' session all rail. Me'n Alan will pull fer you like a yoke o' -steers--me with the moonshiners, an' my mountain clan, that ain't dead -yet, an' him with his gang. What you say? Put up or shet up." - -"I 'll do what I kin," said Bartell, a new light on his face, as he -turned to the others. "Gentlemen," he began, "listen to me a minute. I -see a good many of you was affected by Ab Daniel's speech an' sort o' -want the road, anyway, so if--" - -"I don't exactly like them specks," broke in a fat, middle-aged man at a -window. "By gum! I believe old Ab had us down about right. Ef we kin git -sort o' opened up along with the rest o' creation, I say le's git in the -game. Huh!"--the man finished, with a laughing shrug--"I don't like them -fly-specks one bit." - -"Me nuther," said a man beside him. - -"Nur me!" came from some one else. - -"Well, I'm willin' ef the rest are," announced Bar-tell. "All in favor -hold up yore hands." - -Pole Baker grinned broadly as he counted them. "All up--the last one," -he said, then he sprang for the door and stood before the expectant -audience. - -"Toot! toot!" he cried, imitating the whistle of a locomotive. "All -aboard! The road's a settled thing. They say they don't want no specks, -an' they ain't agoin' to have 'em. Hooray!" - -The audience was electrified by the announcement. For an instant there -was a pause of incredulous astonishment, and then the floor resounded -from the clatter of feet and glad shouts filled the air. - -Alan, his face ablaze with startled triumph, came towards Adele and -Miller. "Pole worked the rabbit-foot on them back there," he said. "I -don't know what he did, but he did something." - -"He told me he had a card left," laughed Miller. "I 'll bet he had it up -his sleeve. There he is now. Oh, Pole, come here!" - -The man thus addressed slouched down the aisle to them, his big, brown -eyes flashing merrily under his heavy brows, his sun-browned face dark -with the flush of triumph. - -"Out with it, you rascal," said Alan. "What did you say to them? -Whatever it was it knocked their props clean from under them." - -"Ef you don't back me in it, I'm a gone dog," said Pole to Alan. "All I -want you to do is to vote for Bartell, ef you kin possibly swallow the -dose." - -A light broke on the two men. "I 'll do it if you say so, Pole," said -Alan. "Not only that, but I 'll work for him if you wish it." - -Pole looked down and pulled at his heavy mustache. "Well," he smiled, "I -reckon he won't harm us any more in the legislatur' than the road 'll do -us good, so you'd better support 'im. I seed the bars down a minute ago, -an' I didn't have no time to consult you. I'd 'a' told a bigger lie 'an -that to clinch this thing." Abner Daniel joined them, smiling broadly, -his eyes twinkling joyously. - -"We've won, Uncle Ab," exclaimed Alan; "what do you think of that?" - -The old jester stroked his face and swung his long body back and forth -in the wind of his content. "I've always argued," said he, "that what is -to be _will_ be, an' it _will_ be a sight sooner 'n most of us count on, -ef we 'll jest keep our sperits up." - -The others moved on, leaving Adele and Miller together. - -"Oh, just look at mamma and papa," she said, in the round, full voice -indicative of deep emotion. "They are so glad they are about to cry." - -"What a dear, dear girl you are," said Miller, softly. "There is nothing -to separate us now, is there?" - -For a moment they met in a full look into each other's eyes. Adele's -voice shook when she replied: "I believe I'm the happiest, proudest girl -in all the world." - -"Then you love me?" - -"I believe I've loved you from the very minute I met you in Atlanta last -summer." - -Alan saw Dolly looking at him and waving her handkerchief, her face -warm and flushed. He was tempted to go to her, but she still sat by her -father and mother, and that fact checked him. Mrs. Barclay caught his -eye, and, rising suddenly, came through the crowd to him. She extended -her gloved hand. - -"You and Dolly must stop your foolishness," she said. "I've been -thinking of a plan to help you two out. If I were you I wouldn't say a -word to her now, but next Sunday night come and take her to church just -like you used to. I 'll attend to Colonel Barclay. He is just tickled to -death over this thing and he won't make any fuss. He is as stubborn as -a mule, though, and when he has to give in, it's better not to let him -think you are gloating over him. He won't bother you any more; I 'll see -to that." - -Alan thanked her. He was so full of happiness that he was afraid to -trust his voice to utterance. As Mrs. Barclay was going back to her -husband and daughter, Pole Baker passed. Alan grasped him by the hand. - -"Say, Pole," he said, his voice full and quavering, "I want to tell you -that I think more of you than I do of any man alive." - -"Well, Alan," said Pole, awkwardly, yet with an eye that did not waver, -"I kin shore return the compliment. Ef it hadn't been fer you an' yore -advice I'd 'a' been in hell long ago, an' as it is, I feel more like -livin' a straight, honest life than I ever did. You never axed me but -one thing that I didn't grant, an' that was to give up whiskey. I don't -know whether I ever will be able to do it or not, but, by the great God -above, I'm agoin' to keep on tryin', fer I know you want it jest fer my -good. I don't want a dram to-day, fer a wonder, an' maybe in time I 'll -git over my thirst." - -As Alan was about to get into his buggy with his uncle, the Colonel and -his wife and daughter passed. With a sheepish look on his face the old -man bowed to the two men, but Dolly stopped before Alan and held out her -hand. - -"You were going away without even speaking to me," she said, a catch in -her voice. "Think of it--to-day of all days to be treated like that!" - -"But your mother told me--" - -"Didn't I tell you she couldn't be relied on?" broke in Dolly, with a -smile. "I have more influence with papa than she has. I know what she -told you. I made her confess it just now. Are you going to town to-day?" - -"Yes," he informed her; "we shall complete the arrangements there." - -"Then come right down to see me as soon as you possibly can," Dolly -said. "I'm dying to see you--to talk with you. Oh, Alan, I'm so--_so_ -happy!" - -"So am I," he told her, as he pressed her hand tenderly. "Then I shall -see you again to-day." - -"Yes, to-day, sure," she said, and she moved on. - -"She's all right," said Abner Daniel, as Alan climbed in the buggy -beside him. "She's all wool an' a yard wide." - -"I reckon you are satisfied with the way it come out, Uncle Ab," said -his nephew, flushing over the compliment to Dolly. - -"Jest want one thing more," said the old man, "an' I can't make out -whether it's a sin or not. I want to face Perkins an' Abe Tompkins. I'd -give my right arm to meet 'em an' watch the'r faces when they heer about -the railroad, an' the price yore pa's land fetched." - -THE END - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Abner Daniel, by Will N. 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