diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/51918.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51918.txt | 10481 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 10481 deletions
diff --git a/old/51918.txt b/old/51918.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 55a1bce..0000000 --- a/old/51918.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10481 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pole Baker, 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: Pole Baker - A Novel - -Author: Will N. Harben - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51918] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POLE BAKER *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -POLE BAKER - -A Novel - -By Will N. Harben - -New York and London Harper & Brothers Publishers - -1905 - -[Illustration: 0001] - -[Illustration: 0005] - -TO - -MY SON ERIC - -POLE BAKER - - - - -I - - -THE planter alighted from the dusty-little train under the crumbling -brick car-shed at Darley, and, turning his heavy hand-luggage over -to the negro porter, he walked across the grass to the steps of the -Johnston House. Here he was met by Jim Thornton, the dapper young clerk, -who always had a curled mustache and oiled hair smoothed flatly down -over his brow. - -"Oh, here you are, right side up, Captain Duncan!" he cried, cordially. -"You can't stay away from those level acres of yours very long at a -time." - -"No, Jim," the short, thick-set man smiled, as he took the extended -hand; "as soon as I heard spring had opened, I got a bad case of -homesickness, and we left Florida. My wife and daughter came a week ago. -I had to stop on business in Jacksonville. I always like to be here in -planting season; my men never seem to know exactly what I want done when -I am away. Jim, I've got a lot of fine land out there between the river -and the mountains." - -"I reckon you have," laughed the clerk, as he led his guest into the -hotel office. "There's a neighbor of yours over there at the stove, old -Tom Mayhew, who runs the big store--Mayhew & Floyd's--at Springtown." - -"Oh, I know him mighty well," said Duncan. "How are you, Mayhew? What -are you doing away from your beat? I thought you'd be behind that -counter such fine weather as this." - -"Trade's dull," said the merchant, who was a tall, spare-made man, about -sixty-five years of age, with snow-white hair and beard. "Farmers are -all at the plough, and that's where they ought to be, Duncan, if they -expect to pay anything on their debts this fall. I had to lay in some -stock, and ran down to Atlanta day before yesterday. My young partner, -Nelson Floyd, usually does the replenishing, but the books got out of -whack and I left him to tussle with them; he's got a better head for -figures than I have. I've just sent to the livery-stable for a horse and -buggy to take me out; how are you going?" - -"Why, I hardly know," answered the planter, as he took off his straw hat -and wiped his bald head with a silk handkerchief. "I telegraphed -Lawson, my head overseer, to send somebody to meet me, and I was just -wondering--" - -"Oh, you'll be attended to all right, Captain Duncan," said the clerk, -with a laugh, as he stood at the register behind the counter. "Pole -Baker was in here last night asking if you had arrived. He said he had -brought a buggy and was going to drive you back. You will make it -all right if Pole sobers up long enough to get out of town. He was -thoroughly 'how-come-you-so' last night. He was in Asque's bar raising -holy Cane. The marshal ordered Billy to close at twelve, but Pole -wouldn't hear to it, and they came in an inch of having a fight. I -believe they would if Mrs. Johnston hadn't heard it and come down. Pole -has more respect for women than most men, and as soon as he saw her at -the door he hushed up and went to bed." - -"He's as straight as a shingle this morning, captain," put in Charlie -Smith, a mulatto porter, who was rolling a pair of trucks across the -room laden with a drummer's enormous, brass-bound trunk. "He was up -before day asking if you got in durin' the night." - -"Well, I'm glad he's sobered up if he's to take me out," said the -planter. "He's about the biggest dare-devil out our way. You know him, -don't you, Mayhew?" - -"Know him? Humph! to the extent of over three hundred dollars. My -partner thinks the sun rises and sets in him and never will close down -on him. They are great friends. Floyd will fight for him at the drop of -a hat. He says Pole has more manhood in him to the square inch -than any man in the county, white or black. He saw him in a -knock-down-and-drag-out row in the public square last election. They say -Pole whipped three bigger men than he is all in a bunch, and bare-handed -at that. Nobody knows to this day how it started. Nelson doesn't, but I -heard it was some remark one of the fellows made about Nelson himself. -You know my partner had a rather strange start in life--a poor boy with -nobody to see to his bringing-up, but that's a subject that even his -best friends don't mention to him." - -The captain nodded understanding. "They tell me Pole used to be a -moonshiner," he said; "and I have heard that he was the shrewdest one -in the mountains. His wife got him to quit it. I understand he fairly -worships the ground she walks on, and there never was a better father to -his children." - -"He thinks well enough of them when he's at himself," said Mayhew, "but -when he's drinking he neglects them awfully. I've known the neighbors -to feed them two weeks on a stretch. He's got a few enemies out our way. -When he quit moon-shining, he helped some of the government officers -find some stills over there. That was funny! Pole held off from the -job that was offered him for a month, during which time he sent word -everywhere through the mountains that he would give all his old friends -plenty of time to shut up and quit making whiskey, but after his month -was up he would do all he could against any law-breakers. He had to -testify against several who are now at large, and they certainly have it -in for him. He'd have been shot long ago if his enemies wasn't afraid of -him. But they will do him one of these days; you may mark my prediction. -He is as cool and collected in time of danger as General Lee used to be. -By gum, I saw him actually save the lives of twenty of the best citizens -of this town about a year ago." - -"You don't mean it!" exclaimed the planter. "That's what he did, -captain," Jim Thornton cried out from behind the counter. "You bet your -life that was a ticklish time. I wasn't here, but I heard of it." - -"No, you wasn't on duty then," said Mayhew. "I remember that, because -Mrs. Johnston had to attend to the office herself. It happened, captain, -that a squad of negro soldiers, commanded by a white officer, owing to -some wash-out on the road this side of Chattanooga, had to lay over here -all day, and they got about half drunk and started in to paint the town. -They marched up and down Main Street, two abreast, looking in the stores -and making fun of everybody and everything they saw. Finally hell got in -them as big as house afire, and they come right in here, forty strong. -The leader, a tall, black buck, over six feet high and weighing about -two hundred, went up to Mrs. Johnston at the counter and said they -wanted dinner. The old lady, feeble and gray-headed as she is, isn't a -child. She knew exactly what it meant, and she was as white as a sheet, -but she told the rascal quietly that her house did not entertain colored -people. - -"'That's what I've heard,' the negro said, 'but we are going to eat here -to-day or know the reason why.'" - -"Good heavens!" exclaimed Duncan, "he ought to have been shot." - -"Well," went on Mayhew, "while she was trying to put him off, somebody -ran for the white officer and told him to go order his men out, and -he did start in this direction, but it was with a sneer and several -questions about why his men couldn't eat in any hotel in America, and so -forth, and when he got here in the office he just stood around and took -no steps to stop the trouble at all. He sidled over to the cigar-case -and stood there twisting his yellow mustache and turning his nose up, -but he wouldn't give the command, and that made the negroes more unruly. -Mrs. Johnston appealed to him, telling him it was his duty to clear -her house of his drunken men, but he simply gave her no satisfaction. -However, you can bet trouble was brewing. The news had spread like -wildfire down the street, and every merchant and clerk that was any man -at all shoved a pistol in his pocket and quietly slid into this room. -They didn't seem to have any business here, and it was plain that the -captain, who was a Northern man, had no idea he was so near an ambush; -but a battle hung by a single hair. Both factions was armed, and one -shot would have produced a hundred. The white citizens all had their -lips set tight together, and not one had a thing to say to any other. -They were all here for simple business, and each man was going to act on -his own responsibility. The diningroom was open, and one or two drummers -had gone in to dinner, and every white man's eye was on the door. They -seemed to have made up their minds, one and all, that the first negro -that made a break in that direction would never cross the threshold. -I've been in war and carnage, but, by gum! that was the most ticklish -situation I ever faced. - -"Just about that time I saw Pole Baker run in, panting and out of -breath. He had been doing a job of whitewashing down at the wagon-yard -and had on a pair of somebody's old overalls that wouldn't meet at the -waist and struck him about the knees. He'd lost his hat in his hurry, -and his long, bushy hair was all tangled. 'Have you got a spare gun?' he -asked me, his lip shaking, his eyes bulging out. I told him I didn't -have anything but a pocket-knife and might need that, and he plunged -into the bar-room and tried to borrow a pistol from Billy Asque, but -Billy was on the way out with his in his hip-pocket, and Pole come back -frothing at the mouth and begun to look under that stove there. - -"'What you looking for?' said I. And he belched up an oath and said: -'Damn it, what you think I'm looking for--a feather bed? I'm looking for -something to hit that black whelp with that's leaning over the register -threatening that poor old lady.' - -"But he couldn't lay his hand on a thing, and it looked like he was -about to cry. Then things got more serious. The negroes had bunched -together, and we saw plainly that their plan was to make a break in a -body for the dining-room. I saw Pole throw his big head back like our -general used to do when things had reached a crisis. - -"'If something isn't done, and done quick,' I heard him say to himself, -'some of the best citizens of this town will lose their lives, and all -for a gang of drunken niggers. Something's got to be done, Mr. Mayhew,' -he said to me. - -"'Yes, but _what?_--that's the question,' said I. - -"Then I saw him act. Without a single weapon in his hand, he stalked as -straight as an arrow through the gang of negroes, elbowing them right -and left, and went up to the captain and clamped his hand on his -shoulder so heavy that I heard it clear across the room. - -"'Looky' here, you damned white coward!' he said, 'you order them coons -out of here in five seconds or, by God, I'll knock every tooth in your -head down your throat, and wedge 'em in with your gums. Quick, order, I -say!' - -"The chap was about Pole's height, but he looked like a sapling beside a -knotted oak, and he stared through his cigar smoke in astonishment. But -Pole's left hand came down with a ringing slap on his shoulder-straps -that almost brought the fellow to his knees, and Pole's big fist slid -up close to his eyes, and then drew back for a sledge-hammer lick. The -fellow blinked, and then with a growl and a sickly look about the mouth -he gave the order. The negroes looked at him in astonishment, but Pole -waved his big right hand and said, 'Get out! get out of here, and that -mighty quick!' They moved slow, to be sure, but they went, the officer -standing to one side looking plumb whipped. They had all gone down -the steps, and the captain, mad and sullen, was about to follow, when -suddenly Pole reached out and caught him by the collar and yanked him -right back into the crowd that was surging forward. - -"'Say, you've got to listen to a speech,' Pole said, still holding to -his coat. 'I want to tell you that for a soldier you are the damnedest -jackass that ever stood on its hind-legs in blue pants. You are a pretty -excuse to send out even in charge of a set of ignorant coons. If it -hadn't been for me calling a halt on this thing you'd 'a' had to haul -your company to headquarters in a refrigerator-car, and you'd 'a' had -that uniform changed to one of tar and feathers. Now, you go on, and -when you strike another mountain town you will know what you are up -against,' and with that Pole led the chap, who was pretty well scared -by that time, to the steps and gave him a shove towards the train. Pole -saved the day, and when that crowd of Darley men realized what a riot -had been averted they gathered around him and began to praise him -extravagantly. Billy Askew ran into his bar and came out with his old -dog-eared ledger open at Pole's account, and he held it up and tore the -page out. 'No man,' said he, 'can owe _me_ for whiskey that's got that -sort of a body to put it in, and Pole Baker from this day on is at -liberty to stick his mouth to every bung-hole in my shop.' - -"And that night Pole was so drunk that the marshal started to lock him -up, but the gang stood to him. They put him to bed up-stairs in the -bridal-chamber, and sat around him till morning, singing battle-songs -and raising the devil generally." - -"I see him coming now, Mr. Mayhew," said the clerk. "Captain, he walks -steady enough. I reckon he'll take you through safe." - -The tall countryman, about thirty-five years of age, without a coat, his -coarse cotton shirt open at the neck, a slouched hat on his massive head -and his tattered trousers stuffed into the tops of his high boots, came -in. He wore a brown, sweeping mustache, and his eyebrows were unusually -heavy. On the heel of his right boot he wore an old riding spur, very -loosely strapped. - -"How are you, Captain Duncan?" he said to the planter, as he extended -his brawny hand. "You've come back to God's country, heigh?" - -"Yes, Baker," the planter returned, with a genial smile. "I had to see -what sort of chance you fellows stand for a crop this year. I understand -Lawson sent you over for me and my baggage. I'm certainly glad he -engaged a man about whom I have heard such good reports." - -"Well, I don't know about _that_, captain," said Pole, his bushy brows -meeting in a frown of displeasure, and his dark eyes flashing. "I -don't know as I'm runnin' a hack-line, or totin' trunks about fer -the upper-ten set of humanity. I'm a farmer _myself_, in a sort of -way--smaller'n you are, but a farmer. I was comin' this way yesterday, -and was about to take my own hoss out of the field, where he had plenty -to do, when Lawson said: 'Baker, bein' as you are goin' to make the trip -_anyways_, I'd feel under obligations ef you'd take my rig and fetch -Captain Duncan back when you come.' By gum, to tell you the truth, I've -just come in to say to you, old hoss, that ef you are ready right now, -we'll ride out together; ef not, I'll leave yore rig and go out with -Nathan Porter. I say engaged! I'm not goin' to get any money out o' this -job." - -"Oh, I meant no offence at all, Baker," said the planter, in no little -embarrassment, for the group was smiling. - -"Well, I reckon you didn't," said Pole, slightly mollified, "but it's -always a good idea fer two men to know exactly where they stand, and I'm -here to say I don't take off my hat to no man on earth. The only man I'd -bow down to died two thousand years ago." - -"That's the right spirit," Duncan said, admiringly. "Now, I'm ready if -you are, and it's time we were on the move. Those two valises are mine, -and that big overcoat tied in a bundle." - -"Here, Charlie!" Pole called out to the porter, "put them things o' -Duncan's in the back end o' the buggy an' I'll throw you a dime the next -time I'm in town." - -"All right, boss," the mulatto said, with a knowing wink and smile at -Mayhew. "They'll be in by the time you get there." - -While the planter was at the counter saying goodbye to the clerk, Pole -looked down at Mayhew. "When are _you_ goin' out?" he asked. - -"In an hour or so," answered the merchant, as he spat down into a -cuspadore. "I'm waiting now for a turnout, and I've got some business to -attend to." - -"Collections to make, I'll bet my hat," Pole laughed. "I thought mighty -few folks was out on Main Street jest now; they know you are abroad in -the land, an' want to save the'r socks." - -"Do you reckon that's it, Baker?" said Mayhew, as he spat again. "I -thought maybe it was because they was afraid you'd git on the war-path, -and wanted to keep their skins whole." - -The clerk and the planter laughed. "He got you that time, Pole," the -latter said, with a smile. - -"I'll acknowledge the corn," and the mountaineer joined in the laugh -good-naturedly. "To look at the old skinflint, settin' half asleep all -the time, a body wouldn't think his tongue had any life to it. But -I've seen the dem thing wiggle before. It was when thar was a trade up, -though." - - - - -II - - -AS they were driving into the country road, just beyond the straggling -houses in the outskirts of the town, going towards the mountains, which -lay along the western horizon like blue clouds settling to earth, the -planter said: - -"I've seen you fishing and hunting with Mayhew's young partner, Nelson -Floyd. You and he are rather intimate, are you not?" - -"Jest about as friendly as two men can be," said Pole, "when one's -rising in the world an' t'other is eternally at a stand-still or goin' -down like a round rock on the side of a mountain. Or maybe I ought to -say, when one of 'em has had the pluck to educate hisse'f, an' t'other -hardly knows B from a bull's foot. I don't know, captain, why Nelson -Floyd's friendly to me. I like him beca'se he is a man from his -toe-nails to the end o' the longest hair on his head." - -"I've heard a lot of good things about him," remarked the planter, "and -I understand, too, that he has his faults." - -"They're part of his manhood," said Pole, philosophically. "Show me a -feller without faults, and I'll show you one that's too weak to have -'em. Nelson's got some o' the dust o' the broad road on his coat, an' -yet I'd take his place in the general stampede when old Gabe blows his -trumpet at the millennium a sight quicker than I'd stand in the shoes -o' some o' these jack-leg preachers. I tell you, Captain Duncan, ef the -Lord's goin' to make favorites o' some o' the long-faced hypocrits I -know, that is robbin' widows an' orphans in the week an' prayin' an' -shoutin' on Sunday to pull the wool over folks' eyes, me an' Him won't -gee in the hereafter. You know some'n about that boy's start in life, -don't you, captain?" - -"Not much, I must own," answered the planter. - -"Thar it is," said Pole, with a condemning sneer; "ef the pore boy had -belonged to one o' the big families in yore ring out in Murray--the high -an' mighty, that owned niggers, you'd 'a' heard all about him. Captain, -nobody on earth knows how that feller has suffered. All his life he's -wanted to make some'n of hisse'f, an' has absolutely, to my certain -knowledge, had more to contend with than any man alive. He don't even -know the exact date of his birth, an' ain't plumb-sure that his name -really is Floyd. You see, jest at the close of the war a woman--so sick -she could hardly walk--come through the Union lines in East-Tennessee -with a baby in her arms. Accordin' to report, she claimed that her name -was Floyd, an' called the baby 'Nelson.' She put up at a mountain cabin -for the night, a shack whar some pore razor-back whites lived by name o' -Perdue. Old man Perdue was a lyin', treacherous scamp, a bushwhacker and -a mountain outlaw, an' his wife was a good mate to him. Nelson's mammy, -as I say, was tuck in, but thar wasn't no doctor nigh, an' very little -to eat, an' the next mornin' she was ravin' out of her head, and late -that day she died. I'm tellin' you now all that Nelson Floyd ever was -able to find out, as it come down to him from one person's recollection -to another's. Well, the woman was buried somers, nobody knows whar, an' -old Mrs. Perdue kept the baby more beca'se she was afeard to put it out -o' the way than fer any pity fer it. She had a whole litter of brats of -her own goin' about winter an' summer in the'r shirt-tails, an' so she -left Nelson to scratch fer hisself. Then the authorities made it hot -fer Perdue on some charges agin 'im, and he left the child with another -mountain family by name o' Scott and moved clean out of the country. -The Scotts couldn't remember much more than hearsay about how Nelson -got thar, an' they didn't care, though they tried to raise the boy along -with three of their own. He had a tough time of it, for he was a plucky -little devil, and had a fight with somebody mighty nigh every day. And -as he growed up he naturally fell into bad company, or it fell into him -like everything else did, an' he tuck to drinkin' an' finally become a -regular young outlaw; he was a bloodthirsty rowdy before he was fifteen; -shot at one man fer some cause or other an' barely escaped bein' put up -fer life--nothin' but bein' so young got 'im off. But one day--now -I'm givin' it to you jest as Nelson told me--one day he said he got to -thinkin' about the way he was a-goin', and all of his own accord he made -up his mind to call a halt. He wanted to cut clean off from his old set, -an' so he went to Mayhew, at Springtown, and told him he wanted to git -work in the store. Old Mayhew would skin a flea fer its hide an' tallow, -an', seein' his money in the boy, he bound 'im to an agreement to work -fer his bare board an' clothes fer three years." - -"Low enough wages, certainly!" exclaimed the planter. - -"Yes, but Nelson didn't grumble, and Mayhew will tell you hisself that -thar never was sech a worker sence the world was made. He was a general -hand at ever'thing, and as bright as a new dollar and as quick as a -steel-trap. The Lord only knows when or how he did it, fer nobody ever -seed a book in his hands in business hours, but he l'arned to read -and write and figure. An' that wasn't all. Old Mayhew was sech an old -skinflint, and so hard on folks who got in his debt, that nobody traded -at his shebang except them that couldn't go anywhars else; but lo and -behold! Nelson made so many friends that they begun to flock around -'im from all directions, an' the business of the house was more than -doubled. Mayhew knowed the cause of it, fer lots o' customers throwed -it up to 'im. The prosperity was almost too much fer the old skunk; in -fact, he got mighty nigh scared at it, and actually tried to dam the -stream o' profit. To keep up sech a business, big credit had to be -extended, and it was a new venture fer the cautious old scamp. But -Nelson had perfect faith in all his friends, and thar it stood--a -beardless boy holdin' forth that it was the old man's chance of a -lifetime to git rich, and Mayhew half believin' it, crazy to act on -Nelson's judgment, an' yet afraid it would be ruination. That was at the -close of the boy's three-year contract. He was then about twenty year -old, and I was in the store 'and heard the talk between 'em. We was all -a-settin' at the big wood stove in the back end--me an' the old man, an' -Nelson, and Joe Peters, a clerk, who is still there but was then workin' -on trial. I shall never forget that night as long as I live. I gloried -in Nelson's spunk to sech an extent I could 'a' throwed up my hat an' -hollered. - -"'I've been waitin' to have a talk with you, Mr. Mayhew,' the boy -said. 'Our contract is out today, and you and me disagree so much about -runnin' the business that I hardly know what I ought to do an' not stand -in my own light. We've got to make a fresh contract, anyway.' - -"'I knowed that was comin',' old Mayhew said, with one o' his big, -hoggish grunts. 'People for miles around have made it the'r particular -business to fill you up with ideas about what you are wuth. I've thought -some about lettin' you go an' see ef me an' Joe cayn't keep things -a-movin'; but you know the trade round here, an' I want to do the fair -thing. What do you think yore time's wuth?" Pole laughed. "The old skunk -was usin' exactly the same words he'd 'a' used ef he'd been startin' in -to buy a load o' produce an' wanted to kill expectation at the outset. - -"'I. want fifty dollars a month, _under certain conditions'_ the boy -said, lookin' the old skinflint straight in the eye. - -"'Fifty--huh! yo're crazy--stark, starin' crazy, plumb off yore base!' -the old man said, his lip twisted up like it is when he's mad. 'I see -myse'f payin' a beardless boy a Broadway salary to work in a shack like -this out here in the mountains.' - -"'Well, I'll jest be obliged to quit you then,' Nelson said, as steady -as a mill-pond on a hot day in August, 'an' I'd sorter hate to do it. -Moore & Trotter at Darley offer me that fer the fust six months, with an -increase later.' - -"'Moore & Trotter!' the old skunk grunted loud enough to be heard clean -to the court-house across the street. They was the only firm in this end -o' the state that controlled as much custom as Mayhew did, an' it struck -the old chump under the ribs. He got up from his chair an' walked clean -down to the front-door. It was shet an' locked; but thar was a lamp -on the show-case nigh whar he stopped, an' I could see his old face -a-workin' under the influence o' good an' evil. Purty soon he grunted, -an' come back, thumpin' his old stick agin barrels an' boxes along the -way. - -"'How am I goin' to know whether Moore & Trotter offered you that much -or not?' he axed. - -"'Beca'se I said so,' Nelson told 'im, an' his dark eyes was flashin' -like lightnin'. He stood up an' faced the old codger. 'I'll tell you one -thing, Mr. Mayhew,' he let fly at 'im, 'ef you don't know whether I'm -tellin' the truth or not you'd better not keep me, fer a man that will -lie will steal. I say they offered me fifty dollars. I've got the'r -written proposition in my pocket, but I'll be hanged ef I show it to -you!'" - -"Good!" exclaimed the planter. - -"Well, it knocked the old man clean off his feet," Pole went on. "He sat -down in his chair again, all of a tremble, an' white about the mouth. -Stingy folks git scared to death at the very idea o' payin' out money, -anyway, an' stingy don't fit that old cuss. Ef Noah Webster had knowed -him he'd 'a' made another word fer that meanin'. I don't know but he'd -simply 'a' spelled out the old man's name an' 'a' been done with it." - -"What final answer did Mayhew give the young man, Baker?" asked the -planter, in a tone which indicated no little interest. - -"Why, he jest set still fer a while," said Pole, "an' me an' Joe Peters -was a-wonderin' what he'd say. He never did anything sudden. Ef he ever -gits to heaven he'll feel his way through the gate an' want to know ef -thar's any other entrance. I seed 'im keep a woman standin' in the store -once from breakfast to dinner time while he was lookin' fer a paper o' -needles she'd called fer. Every now an' then he'd quit huntin' fer the -needles an' go an' wait on some other customer, an' then come back to -'er. She was a timid sort o' thing, an' didn't seem to think she had the -right to leave, bein' as she had started the search. Whenever she'd go -towards the door to see ef her hoss was standin', he'd call 'er back -an' ax 'er about 'er crap an' tell 'er not to be in a hurry, that Rome -wasn't built in a day, an' the like. You know the old cuss has some -education. Finally he found the needles an' tuck another half an' hour -to select a scrap o' paper little enough to wrap 'em up in. But you axed -me what Nelson said to 'im. Huh! the boy was too good a trader to push -a matter like that to a head. He'd throwed down the bars, an' he jest -waited fer the old man to come into the grass of his own accord. Finally -Mayhew axed, as indifferent as he could under all his excitement: -'When do you intend to answer the letter you say you got from Moore & -Trotter?' - -"'I expect to answer it to-night,' Nelson said. 'I shall tell 'em -I appreciate the'r offer an' will run over an' see 'em day after -to-morrow.'" - -"Good! very well said, Baker," laughed Captain Duncan. "No wonder the -young man's got rich. You can't keep talent like that down. But what did -old Mayhew say?" - -"It was like pullin' eye-teeth," answered Pole. "But he finally come -across. 'Well,' said he, 'I reckon you kin make yorese'f as useful to me -as you kin to them, an' ef you are bent on ridin' me to death, after I -picked you up, an' give you a start, an' l'arnt you how to do business, -I reckon I'll have to put up with it.' - -"'I don't feel like I owe you anything,' said Nelson, as plucky as a -banker demandin' good security on a loan. 'I've worked for you like a -slave for three years for my bare livin' an' my experience, an' from -now on I am goin' to work for number one. I said that I'd stay for fifty -dollars a month _on certain conditions_.' - -"'Conditions?' the old man growled. 'What conditions do you mean?' - -"'Why, it's jest this,' said Nelson. 'I've had my feelin's, an' the -feelin's o' my friends, hurt time after time by you turnin' 'em away -without credit, when I knowed they would meet the'r obligations. Now, ef -I stay with you, it is with the distinct understandin' that I have the -authority to give or refuse credit whenever I see fit.' - -"That knocked the old man off his perch ag'in. He wilted an' sat thar as -limp as a dish-rag. Joe Peters worships the ground Nelson walks on, -an', as much as he fears the old man, he busted out in a big chuckle an' -rubbed his hands together. Besides, he knowed Nelson was talkin' fer the -interest o' the business. He'd seed no end o' good customers sent off -fer no reason in the world than that Mayhew was scared o' his shadow. - -"'I'll never consent to _that_, anyway,' Mayhew said, mighty nigh clean -whipped out. - -"'Well, Moore & Trotter _will_,' Nelson said. 'That's one o' the things -laid down in the'r proposition.' An' the boy went to the desk an' drawed -out a sheet o' paper an' dipped his pen in the ink. The old man set -quiverin' awhile, an' then got up an' went an' stood behind the boy. -'Put down yore pen,' said he, with a deep sigh from away down inside of -'im. 'It would ruin me fer you to move to Darley--half the trade would -follow you. Go ahead, I'll keep you, an' run the risk.'" - -The planter had been listening attentively, and he now said, admiringly: -"Even at that early age the boy was showing the talent that developed -later. It wasn't long after that, I believe, before he became the old -man's partner." - -"The next year," answered Pole. "He saved every dollar of his wages and -made some good investments that turned out money. It wasn't a big slice -of the business at fust, but he owns a half now, an', countin' his -outside interests, he's wuth as much as old Mayhew. He's rich already, -captain." - -"So I've heard the women say," smiled the planter. "Women always keep -track of well-to-do unmarried men." - -"It hain't 'spiled Nelson one bit, nuther," added Baker. "He's the same -unselfish friend to me as he ever was, and I hain't hardly got a roof -to cover me an' mine. But as solid as he always was, he had a serious -back-set about three years ago, and all his well-wishers thought it was -goin' to do him up." - -"You mean when he took to drinking," said Captain Duncan, -interrogatively. - -"Yes, that's what I mean. He'd formed the habit when he was a boy, and -along with his prosperity an' late work-hours it begun to fasten its -claws on 'im like it has on some other folks I know, captain. He had a -lot o' night work to do, an' Thigpen's bar was right 'j'inin' the store. -Nelson used to slide in at the back-door whenever the notion struck 'im; -and he made the trail hot, I tell you. Old Mayhew kept a sharp eye on -'im, an' every now an' then he'd git powerful blue over the way things -was a-goin'. Finally the old cuss got desperate an' called a halt. He -had a straight talk with Nelson, an' told 'im they would have to divide -the'r interests, that he wasn't a drinkin' man hisse'f, an' he didn't -want to be yoked to a feller that was soaked half the time. It fetched -the boy to his senses. He come over to my house that night an' called me -out to the fence. - -"'I want to make a deal with you, Pole,' said he. - -"'With me?' says I. 'What sort of a deal?' - -"'Why,' said he, 'I've made up my mind to swear off fer good an' all, -an' I want you to jine me.' - -"I agreed all right," Pole laughed. "In fact, I was sorter in that -business; I'd promised every preacher an' temperance worker in the -county to quit, an' I couldn't refuse a friend what I was dispensin' so -freely right an' left. So I said, said I: 'All right, Nelson, I'm with -you.'" - -"And how did it come out?" questioned the planter, as he bowed to a -wagonful of farmers going in an opposite direction. - -"His vaccination tuck," Pole smiled. "He had a mighty sore arm fer a -week or so, but he helt out. As fer me, I was so dem glad to see his -success in abstainin' that I started in to celebrate. I did try, though. -One mornin' I went in the store an' seed Nelson have sech a clean, -prosperous look an' so well satisfied with his stand that I went out -with fresh resolutions. What did I do? I went to the bar-room an' bought -four pint bottles o' red rye an' tuck 'em home with me. I set 'em all -in a straight row on the mantel-shelf, nigh the edge, in front o' the -clock, an' was standin' lookin' at 'em when Sally, my wife, come in. She -seed the display, an' jest set kerflop down in her chair an' begun to -whimper. - -"'You hold on!' said I; 'don't you cross a foot-log till the tree's -down. I'm tryin' a new dicker. I've always heard that "familiarity -breeds contempt," an' I've also heard that "the hair o' the dog is good -fer the bite." Now, I've tried my level best to quit liquor by stayin' -away from it, an' I'm a-goin' to see ef I cayn't do it with its eye on -me all the time.' Well, sir, the sweet little woman--she's a sweet, dear -little creature, Captain Duncan, ef I do say it myse'f." - -"I've always heard so, Baker," the planter said. "She's very popular -with your neighbors." - -"An' I'm jest t'other way," said Pole. "Well, Sally she got up an' -kissed me, an' said that somehow she felt like my plan would work." - -"And did it?--I mean"--the captain recalled Pole's spree of only the -night before--"I mean, did it work for any length of time?" - -"I was goin' on to tell you," answered the mountaineer. "That night fer -the fust time sence my marriage I woke smack dab in the middle o' the -night, an' as I laid thar in the room filled with moonlight I couldn't -see a blessed thing but that row o' bottles, an' then my mouth set in -to waterin' at sech a rate that I got afeard I'd ketch my death from -sleepin' on a wet pillow. It was certainly a struggle with the flesh. -I'd put my thirst, captain, when she's good an' dry, ag'in any that ever -tickled a human throat. It ud take the blue ribbon at a convention -o' drunkards. It's a rale thing; it kin walk, an' talk, an' kick, an' -squirm, but it won't be dictated to. Finally Sally woke up an' said: - -"'What's the matter, Pole? Hain't you comfortable?' - -"'Comfortable the devil!' said I--I'm usually polite to Sally, but I -felt like that wasn't no time an' place to talk about little matters. -'Comfortable nothin',' said I. 'Sally, ef you don't take that "doghair" -out o' this house an' hide it, I'll be as drunk as a b'iled owl in ten -minutes.' - -"'Dog-hair?' said she, an' then the little woman remembered, an' she -got up. I heard the bottles tinkle like sorrowful good-bye bells callin' -wanderin' friends back to the fold as she tuck 'em up an' left. Captain, -I felt jest like"--Pole laughed good-naturedly--"I felt like thar was -a mean, stinkin' plot agin the best friends I ever had. I actually felt -sorry fer them thar bottles, an' I got up an' stood at the window an' -watched Sally as she tuck 'em away out in the lonely moonlight to the -barn. I seed 'er climb over the fence o' the cow-lot an' go in at the -side whar I kept my hay an' fodder an' roughness fer my cattle. Then I -laid down in bed ag'in." - -"You acted right," said the planter; "and you deserve credit for putting -your foot down so firmly on what you felt was so injurious, even, -even"--the captain came back again to reality--"even if you didn't -remain firm very long afterwards." - -"Well, I'll tell you one thing--" The ex-moonshiner laughed again, and -his eyes twinkled. "It tuck Sally longer, it seemed to me, to git to -sleep after she got back than it ever had in all her life. Of all times -on earth, she wanted to talk. But I shet her off. I made like I was -breathin' good an' deep, an' then she set in, too. What did I do? -Captain Duncan, I spent the best half o' that night out in the barn -lookin' fer hens' nests. I found two, an' had to be put to bed at -sun-up." - -The planter laughed. "There is one good thing about the situation, -Baker," he said, "and that is your making a joke of it. I believe you -will get the under-hold of the thing some day and throw it over. Coming -back to your friend Floyd, it's true he gave up whiskey, but if reports -are reliable he has another fault that is quite as bad." - -"Oh, you mean all that talk about that girl," answered the mountaineer. - -"Yes, Baker, a reputation of that sort is not a desirable thing in any -community. I know that many brainy and successful men hold that kind of -thing lightly, but it will down anybody who tampers with it." - -"Now, look here, captain," Pole said, sharply; "don't you be an old -woman! 'Ain't you got more sense 'an to swallow everything that passes -among idle gossips in these mountains? Nelson Floyd has got a backbone -full o' the fire o' youth an' is a hot-blooded young chap, but he's, to -my positive knowledge, one o' the cleanest boys I ever come across. To -tell you the truth, I don't believe he ever made but that one slip. It -got out, unfortunately, an' beca'se he was rich an' prominent it raised -a regular whirlwind o' talk an' exaggeration. If it had happened to -half a dozen other young men round about here, not a word would 'a' been -said." - -'"Oh, I see," smiled the planter, "he's not as black as he's painted, -then." - -"Not by a jugful," said the farmer. "I tell you he's all right, an' -folks will know it 'fore long." - - - - -III - - -SPRINGTOWN was about twelve miles west of Darley, only a mile from -Captain Duncan's house, and half a mile from Pole Baker's humble cottage -and small farm. The village had a population of about two hundred souls. -It was the county-seat, and the court-house, a simple, ante-bellum brick -structure, stood in the centre of the public square, around which were -clustered the one-storied shops, lawyer's offices, cotton warehouses, -hotel, and general stores. - -Chief among the last mentioned was the well-known establishment of -Mayhew & Floyd. It was a long, frame building, once white but now a -murky gray, a tone which nothing but the brush of time and weather could -have given it. - -It was only a week since Captain Duncan's talk with Pole Baker, and a -bright, inspiring morning, well suited to the breaking of the soil and -the planting of seed. The village was agog with the spirit of hope. The -post-office was filled with men who had come for their mail, and they -stood and chatted about the crops on the long veranda of the hotel and -in the front part of Mayhew & Floyd's store. Pole Baker was in the store -talking with Joe Peters, the clerk, about seed potatoes, when a tall -countryman, in the neighborhood of forty-five years of age, slouched in -and leaned heavily against the counter. - -"I want a box o' forty-four cartridges," he said, drawing out a long -revolver and rapping on the counter with the butt of it. - -"What! you goin' squirrel huntin'?" Peters laughed and winked at Pole. -"That gun's got a long enough barrel to send a ball to the top o' the -highest tree in these mountains." - -"You slide around behind thar an' git me them cartridges!" retorted the -customer. "Do yore talkin' to somebody else. I'll hunt what an' whar I -want to, I reckon." - -"Oh, come off yore perch, Jeff Wade!" the clerk said, with another easy -laugh. "You hain't nobody's daddy! But here you are. Forty cents a box, -full count, every one warranted to make a hole an' a noise. Want me to -charge 'em?" - -"No, I don't; do you hear me?--I don't! An', what's more, I want to -know exactly how much I owe this dern house. I've been to a dozen -moneylenders 'fore I found what I wanted, but I got it, an' I want to -pay what I owe Mayhew & Floyd." Just then Pole Baker stepped up to the -man's side, and, looking under the broad brim of his hat, he said: - -"Looky' here, Jeff Wade, what you shootin' off yore mouth fer? I 'lowed -at fust that you was full, but you hain't drinkin', at least you don't -seem to have no bottle on yore person." - -"Drinkin' hell! No, I'm not drinkin', an', what's more, I don't intend -to let a drap pass down my throat till I've done my duty to me an' -mine. Say, you look good an' see ef I'm drinkin'! See ef you think a man -that's in liquor would have as steady a nerve as I've got. You watch me! -Maybe it'll show you what I'm able to do." - -Turning, he stalked out of the store, and Peters and Pole followed, -watching him in wonder. He strode across the street to the court-house, -loading his revolver as he went. Reaching the closed door of the -building, he took an envelope from his pocket and fastened it to the -panel by thrusting the blade of his big pocket-knife into it several -times. The spectators heard the hollow, resounding blows like the -strokes of a carpenter's hammer, and then Wade turned and came back -towards them. - -"By gum, he's off his nut!" said Peters, seriously. "He's as crazy as a -bed-bug." - -"It's my opinion he's jest comin' to his senses," Pole mused, a troubled -look in his eyes. "Yes, that's about it; he's jest wakin' up, an' the -whole county will know it, too. By gum, I hate this--I hate it!" - -"You hate what?" asked Peters, his eyes on the farmer, who was now quite -near them. Pole made no reply, for Wade was by his side on the brick -walk beneath the wooden shed in front of the store, his revolver -swinging at his side. - -"You fellows keep yore eye on that envelope," said Wade, and he cocked -his revolver. - -"Look here, don't make a damn fool o' yorese'f," said Pole Baker, and he -laid a remonstrating hand on the iron arm of the gaunt mountaineer. -"You know it's agin the ordinance. You know you'll git into trouble; you -listen to the advice of a friend. Put up that gun an' go home!" - -"I'm my own boss, damn it!" snarled the man with the weapon. - -"Yes, an' a dern fool, too," answered Baker. - -"Well, that's my lookout." Wade glared over his shoulder into the store -and raised his voice significantly. "I want to show this damn town how -easy it will be fer me to put three shots into the blackest heart that -ever pumped human blood." - -"You'd better mind what yo're about, Jeff Wade." Pole Baker was pale, -his lips were tight, his eyes flashing. - -"I know what I'm about. I'm tryin' to draw a coward from his den. I'm -not shore--I'm not dead shore, mind you--but I'm mighty nigh it. Ef the -guilty stand an' hear what I'm a-sayin' an' don't take it up, they are -wuss than hell-tainted. You watch that white mark." - -The bystanders, several comprehending, stood rigid. Pole Baker stared. -Wade raised his Revolver, aimed steadily at the mark, and fired three -shots in quick succession. - -"Thar!" said the marksman, with grim triumph; "as bad as my sight is, I -kin see 'em from here." - -"By gum, they are thar!" exclaimed Peters, with a strange, inquiring -look into Pole Baker's set face. "They are thar, Pole." - -"You bet they are thar, an' some'll be in another spot 'fore long," said -Wade. "Now, Peters, you go in the house an' bring me my account. I've -got the money." - -Wonderingly, the clerk obeyed. Pole went into the store behind him, and, -as Peters stood at the big ledger writing, Pole stepped up to Nelson -Floyd, who sat near a window in the rear with a newspaper in front of -him. - -"Did you hear all that, Nelson?" the farmer asked. - -"Did I? Of course I did. Wasn't it intended for--" The young merchant -glanced furtively at Peters and paused. His handsome, dark face was set -as from tense, inward struggle. - -There was a pause. Peters went towards the front, a written account -drying in the air as he waved it to and fro. - -"I was about to ask you if--" the young merchant began, but Pole -interrupted him. - -"Hush, listen!" - -There was the sound of clinking coin on the counter below. The cast-iron -bell on the cash-drawer rang harshly as the clerk put the money away. - -"Thar, I'm even with this dirty shebang!" It was Jeff Wade's raised -voice. "An' I kin act when the proper time comes. Oh, you all know -what I'm talkin' about! Nobody kin hide a thing in these mountains. But -you'll understand it better, ef it ever comes into yore own families. I -never had but one little sister--she was all the Lord ever allowed me to -have. She was married not more'n a month ago an' went off to Texas with -a man who believes in 'er an' swears he will make her a good husband an' -protector. But no sooner was the pore little thing gone than all this -talk set in. It was writ out to her, an' she writ back to me to stop -it. She admitted it was true, but wouldn't lay the blame. Folks say they -know, but they won't talk. They are afeard o' the influence o' money an' -power, I reckon, but it will git out. I have my suspicions, but I'm not -yet dead shore; but I will be, an' what I done fer that scrap o' paper -I will do fer that man, ef God don't paralyze this right arm. Ef the -black-hearted devil is within the sound o' my voice at this minute, an' -stays still, he's not only the thief of woman's happiness, but he's wuss -than a coward. He's a sneakin' son of--" - -Nelson Floyd, his face rigid, sprang up and went into Joe Peters's -little bedroom, which was cut off in one corner of the store, and, -opening the top drawer of an old bureau, he took out a revolver. -Turning, he met in the door-way the stalwart form of Pole Baker. - -"Put down that gun, Nelson! put it down!" Pole commanded. "Jeff Wade's -deliberately set this trap to draw you into it, an' the minute you walk -down thar it will be a public acknowledgment, an' he'll kill you 'fore -you kin bat an eye." - -"No doubt," said Nelson Floyd, "but the fellow has his rights. I could -never draw a free breath if I let this pass. I owe it to the poor -devil, Pole, and I'll pay. That has always been my rule. I'll pay. Stand -aside!" - -"I'll be damned ef I do." Pole stood his ground firmly. "You must listen -to reason. It's deliberate death." - -"Get out of the way, Pole; don't make me mad," said Floyd. "I'm going -down. I'd expect him to pay me, and I shall him." - -"Stop! You are a fool--you are a damned hotheaded simpleton, Nelson -Floyd. Listen to me." Pole caught the revolver and held on to the barrel -of it while the young merchant clutched the butt. "Listen to me, I say. -Are you goin' back on a helpless little woman? After you have had yore -fun, an' the pore little trick gets married to a man who believes in -her, an' goes away off an' is on a fair road to happiness, are you, I -say, a-goin' to publicly advertise her shame, an', no doubt, bust up a -contented home?" - -"Great God, Pole!" exclaimed Floyd, as he sank onto the edge of Peters's -bed, "do you think, if I give Wade satisfaction it will--" - -"Will it? It will be in every paper from Maine to Californy. Meddlesome -devils will mark the articles an' mail 'em to the gal's husband. A lot -o' folks did the'r level best to bust up the match, anyway, by talkin' -to him about you an' others." - -Nelson Floyd stared at the floor and slowly nodded his head. - -"I'm caught in a more degrading trap than the one Wade set for me," he -declared, bitterly. "My acts have branded me as a coward and left me -without power to vindicate myself. That's one of the ways Providence has -of punishing a poor devil. A man may have a good impulse, but can't act -upon it owing to the restrictions laid on him by his very sins." - -Pole looked down into the store. - -"Nevermind," he said, gloomily. "Wade's gone." - -Floyd dropped the revolver into the drawer of the bureau, and went back -to his desk. - -"It's only a question of time, Pole," he said. "He suspects me now, but -is not sure. It won't be long before the full story will reach him, and -then we'll have to meet. As far as I am concerned, I'd rather have had -it over with. I've swallowed a bitter pill this mornin', Pole." - -"Well, it wasn't a lead one." Baker's habitual sense of humor was rising -to the surface. "Most any sort o' physic's better'n cold metal shoved -into the system through its own hole." - -There was a step in the store. Pole looked down again. - -"It's old Mayhew," he said. "I'm powerful glad he was late this mornin', -Nelson. The old codger would have seed through that talk." - -"Yes, he would have seen through it," answered Floyd, despondently, as -he opened a big ledger and bent over it. Mayhew trudged towards them, -his heavy cane knocking against the long dry-goods counter. - -"I'll have the law on that fellow," he growled, as he hung his stick -on its accustomed nail behind the stove. "No rampageous dare-devil like -that can stand right in my front-door and shoot for mere amusement at -the county court-house. This isn't a fort yet, and the war is over, -thank the Lord." - -Pole glanced at Floyd. - -"Oh, he's jest a little hilarious this mornin', Mr. Mayhew," he said. -"He must 'a' met a mountain whiskey wagon on his way to town. Anyways, -you needn't complain; he come in here jest now an' paid off his account -in full." - -"What? paid off--Is that so, Nelson?" - -Floyd nodded, and then bent more closely over the ledger. "Yes, he paid -up to date." - -"Well, that's queer--or I am, one or the other; why, boys, I had that -fellow on my dead-list. I didn't think he'd ever raise the money, and if -he did I had no idea it would drift our way." - -Floyd left the desk and reached for his hat. Pole was watching him -closely. - -"Post-office?" he asked. - -"Yes." Pole joined him, and the two walked part of the way to the -front-door and paused. Joe Peters was attending a man on the grocery -side of the house, and a young woman, neatly dressed, with a pretty -figure and graceful movement, stood waiting her turn. - -"By gum!" Pole exclaimed under his breath, "that's my little neighbor, -Cynthia Porter--the purtiest, neatest, an' best little trick that ever -wore a bonnet. I needn't tell you that, though, you old scamp. You've -already found it out. Go wait on 'er, Nelson. Don't keep 'er standin' -thar." - -Pole sat down on a bag of coffee and his friend went to the girl. - -"Good-morning, Miss Cynthia," he said, his hat in his hand. "Peters seems -busy. I don't know much about the stock, but if you'll tell me what you -want I'll look for it." - -Turning, she stared at him, her big brown eyes under their long lashes -wide open as if in surprise. - -"Why--why--" She seemed to be making a valiant effort at self-control, -and then he noticed that her voice was quivering and that she was quite -pale. - -"I really didn't want to buy anything," she said. "Mother sent me to -tell Mr. Peters that she couldn't possibly have the butter ready before -to-morrow." - -"Oh, the butter," Floyd said, studying her face and manner in -perplexity. - -"Yes," the girl went on, "she promised to have ten pounds ready to send -to Darley, but the calves got to the cows and spoiled everything; that -threw her at least a day behind." - -"Oh, that don't make a bit o' difference to us, Miss Cynthia!" the clerk -cried out from the scales, where he was weighing a parcel of sugar. "Our -wagon ain't goin' over till Saturday, nohow." - -"Well, she will certainly be glad," the girl returned in a tone of -relief, and she moved towards the door. Floyd, still wondering, went -with her to the sidewalk. - -"You look pale," he said, tentatively, "and--and, well, the truth is, I -have never seen you just this way, Cynthia. Have you been having further -trouble at home? Is your mother still determined that we sha'n't have -any more of our buggy rides?" - -"It wasn't that--_to-day_," she said, her eyes raised to his in a glance -that, somehow, went straight to his heart. "I'll tell you, Nelson. As I -came on, I had just reached Sim Tompkins's field, where he was -planting com and burning stumps, when a negro--one of Captain Duncan's -hands--passed on a mule. I didn't hear what he said, but when I came -to Sim he had stopped ploughing and was leaning over the fence, saying, -'Awful, horrible,' and so on. I asked him what had happened, and he told -me." The girl dropped her eyes, her words hung in her throat, and she -put a slender, tapering, though firm and sun-browned, hand to her lips. - -"Go on," Floyd urged her. "Tompkins said--" - -"He said"--Cynthia swallowed--"that you and Jeff Wade had had words in -front of the store and that Wade had shot and _killed you_. I--I--didn't -stop to inquire of any one--I thought it was true--and came on here. -When I saw you just then absolutely unharmed, I--I--of course it -surprised me--or, I mean--" - -"How ridiculous!" Floyd laughed mechanically. "There is some mistake, -Cynthia. People always get things crooked. That shows how little truth -there is in reports. Wade came in here and paid his bill, and did not -even speak to me, or I to him." - -"But I heard the shots myself, away down the road," said the girl; "and -as I got near the store I saw a group of men in front of the door. They -were pointing down at the sidewalk, and one of them said, 'Jeff stood -right there and fired three times.'" - -Floyd laughed again, while her lynx eyes slowly probed his face. He -pointed at the court-house door. "Cynthia, do you see that envelope? -Wade was shooting at it. I haven't been over to see yet, but they say -he put three balls close together in its centre. We ought to incorporate -this place into a town, so that a thing of this sort wouldn't be -allowed." - -"Oh, that was it!" Cynthia exclaimed, in a full breath of relief. "I -suppose you think I'm a goose to be so scared at nothing." - -His face clouded over, his eyes went down. A customer was going into the -store, and he walked on to the street corner with her before replying. -Then he said: "I'm glad, though, Cynthia, that you felt badly, as I see -you did, when you thought I was done for. Good-bye, I am going to beg -you to let me see you again before long, even if your mother _does_ -object." - -As they walked away out of his sight Pole Baker lowered his shaggy head -to his brawny hands, his elbows resting on his knees. - -"Demed fool!" he exclaimed. "Right now, with his head in the very jaws -o' death, he goes on talkin' sweet stuff to women. A purty face, a saft -voice, an' a pair o' dreamy eyes would lead that man right into the fire -o' hell itself. But that hain't the p'int. Pole Baker, he's yore friend, -an' Jeff Wade is a-goin' to kill 'im jest as shore as preachin'." - -When Pole left the store he saw nothing of Floyd, but he noticed -something else. He was passing Thigpen's bar, and through the open -door-way he caught sight of a row of flasks and bottles behind the -counter. A seductive, soothing odor greeted him; there was a merry -clicking of billiard-balls in the rear, the thunderous thumping of cues -on the floor, and joyous laughter. Pole hesitated and then plunged in. -At any rate, he told himself, one drink would steady his nerves and show -him some way perhaps to rescue his friend from his overhanging peril. -Pole took his drink and sat down. Then a friend came in and gave him two -or three more. - -It was the beginning of another of Pole's prolonged sprees. - - - - -IV - - -T was Sunday morning a week later. Springtown's principal church -stood in the edge of the village on the red-clay road leading up the -mountain-side, now in the delicate green dress of spring, touched here -and there by fragrant splotches of pink honeysuckle and white, dark-eyed -dog-wood blossoms. The building was a diminutive affair, with five -shuttered windows on either side, a pulpit at one end, and a door at -the other. A single aisle cut the rough benches into two parts, one -side being occupied by the men, and the other by the women. The only -exception to this rule was the bench reserved, as if by common consent, -for Captain Duncan, who always sat with his family, as did any male -guests who attended service with them. - -The Rev. Jason Hillhouse was the regular pastor. He was under thirty -years of age, very tall, slight of build, and of nervous temperament. -He wore the conventional black frock-coat, high-cut waistcoat, black -necktie, and gray trousers. He was popular. He had applied himself -closely to the duties of his calling and was considered a man -of character and worth. While not a college graduate, he was yet -sufficiently well-read in the Bible and religious literature to -suit even the more progressive of mountain church-goers. He differed -radically from many of the young preachers who were living imitations of -that noted evangelist, the Rev. Tom P. Smith, "the whirlwind preacher," -in that he was conservative in the selection of topics for discourse and -in his mild delivery. - -To-day he was at his best. Few in the congregation suspected it, but, if -he distributed his glances evenly over the upturned faces, his thoughts -were focussed on only one personality--that of modest Cynthia Porter, -who, in a becoming gray gown, sat with her mother on the third bench -from the front. Mrs. Porter, a woman of fifty-five years of age, was -very plainly attired in a calico dress, to which she had added no -ornament of any kind. She wore a gingham poke-bonnet, the hood of which -hid her face even from the view of the minister. Her husband, old -Nathan Porter, sat directly across the aisle from her. He was one of -the roughest-looking men in the house. He had come without his coat, and -wore no collar or neck-tie, and for comfort, as the day was warm, he had -even thrown off the burden of his suspenders and they lay in careless -loops about his hips. He had a broad expanse of baldness, to the edge -of which hung a narrow fringe of white hair, and a healthful, pink -complexion, and mild, blue eyes. - -When the sermon was over and the doxology sung, the preacher stepped -down into the congregation to take the numerous hands cordially extended -to him. While he was thus engaged old Mayhew came from the "amen corner," -on the right, and nodded and smiled patronizingly. - -"You did pretty well to-day, young man," he said. "I like doctrinal -talks. There's no getting around good, sound doctrine, Hillhouse. We'd -have less lawlessness if we could keep our people filled plumb-full of -sound doctrine. But you don't look like you've been eating enough, my -boy. Come home with me and I'll give you a good dinner. I heard a fat -hen squeal early this morning, as my cook, old Aunt Nancy, jerked her -head off. It looks a pity to take life on a Sunday, but if that hen had -been allowed to live she might have broken a commandment by hunting for -worms on this day of rest. So the divine intention may be carried out, -after all. Come on with me." - -"I can't, Brother Mayhew, not to-day, thank you." The young man flushed -as his glance struggled on to the Porters, who were waiting near the -door. "The fact is, I've already accepted an invitation." - -"From somebody with a girl in the family, I'll bet," Mayhew laughed, as -he playfully thrust the crooked end of his walking-stick against the -preacher's side. - -"I wish I knew why women are so dead-set on getting a preacher in the -family. It may be because they know they will be provided for, after -some fashion or other, by the church at large, in case of death or -accident." - -The preacher laughed as he moved on shaking hands and dispensing cheery -words of welcome right and left. Presently the way was clear and he -found himself near Cynthia and her mother. - -"Sorry to keep you standing here," he said, his color rising higher as -he took the hand of the girl and shook it. - -"Oh, it doesn't matter at all, Brother Hillhouse," the old woman assured -him. "I'll go on an' overtake Mr. Porter; you and Cynthia can stroll -home by the shadiest way. You needn't walk fast; you'll get hot if you -do. Cynthia, I won't need you before dinner. I've got everything ready, -with nothing to do but lay back the cloth and push the plates into their -places. I want Brother Hillhouse just to taste that pound-cake you made. -I'm a good hand at desserts myself, Brother Hillhouse, but she can beat -me any day in the week." - -"Oh, I know Miss Cynthia can cook," said the minister. "At the picnic at -Cohutta Springs last week she took the prize on her fried chicken." - -"I told you all that mother fried that chicken," said the girl, -indifferently. She had seen Nelson Floyd mounting his fine Kentucky -horse among the trees across the street, and had deliberately turned her -back towards him. - -"Well, I believe I _did_ fix the chicken," Mrs. Porter admitted, "but -she made the custards and the cake and icing, besides the poor girl -was having a lot of trouble with her dress. She washed and did up that -muslin twice--the iron spoiled it the first time. I declare I'd have -been out of heart, but she was cheerful all through it. There is Nathan -now. He never will go home by himself; he is afraid I'll lag behind and -he'll get a late dinner." - -"How are you to-day, Brother Porter?" Hillhouse asked as they came upon -the old man, under the trees, a little way from the church. - -"Oh, I'm about as common," was the drawling answer. "You may notice that -I limp a little in my left leg. Ever since I had white-swellin' I've had -trouble with that self-same leg. I wish you folks would jest stop an' -take a peep at it. It looks to me like the blood's quit circulatin' in -it. It went to sleep while you was a-talkin' this mornin'--now, I'll -swear I didn't mean that as a reflection." He laughed dryly as he paused -at a fallen tree and put his foot upon it and started to roll up the leg -of his trousers, but his wife drew him on impatiently. - -"I wonder what you'll do next!" she said, reprovingly. "This is no time -and place for that. What would the Duncans think if they were to drive -by while you were doing the like of that on a public road? Come on with -me, and let's leave the young folks to themselves." - -Grumblingly Porter obeyed. His wife walked briskly and made him keep -pace with her, and they were soon several yards ahead of the young -couple. Hillhouse was silent for several minutes, and his smooth-shaven -face was quite serious in expression. - -"I'm afraid I'm going to bore you on that same old line, Miss Cynthia," -he said, presently. "Really, I can't well help it. This morning I -fancied you listened attentively to what I was saying." - -"Oh, yes, I always do that," the girl returned, with an almost -perceptible shudder of her shoulders. - -"It helped me wonderfully, Miss Cynthia, and once a hope actually -flashed through me so strong that I lost my place. You may have seen -me turning the pages of the Bible. I was trying to think where I'd left -off. The hope was this: that some day if I keep on begging you, and -showing my deep respect and regard, you will not turn me away. Just for -one minute this morning it seemed to me that you had actually consented, -and--and the thought was too much for me." - -"Oh, don't say any more about it, Mr. Hillhouse," Cynthia pleaded, -giving him a full look from her wonderful brown eyes. "I have already -said as much as I can on that subject." - -"But I've known many of the happiest marriages to finally result from -nothing but the sheer persistence of the man concerned," the preacher -went on, ardently, "and when I think of _that_ I _live_, Miss Cynthia--I -live! And when I think of the chance of losing you it nearly drives me -crazy. I can't help feeling that way. You are simply all I care for on -earth. Do you remember when I first met you? It was at Hattie Mayfield's -party just after I got this appointment; we sat on the porch alone and -talked. I reckon it was merely your respect for my calling that made you -so attentive, but I went home that night out of my head with admiration. -Then I saw that Frank Miller was going with you everywhere, and that -people thought you were engaged, and, as I did not admire his moral -character, I was very miserable in secret. Then I saw that he stopped, -and I got it from a reliable source that you had turned him down because -you didn't want to marry such a man, and my hopes and admiration climbed -still higher. You had proved that you were the kind of woman for a -preacher's wife--the kind of woman I've always dreamed of having as my -companion in life." - -"I didn't love him, that was all," Cynthia said, quietly. "It would -not have been fair to him or myself to have received his constant -attentions." - -"But now I am down in the dregs again, Miss Cynthia." Hillhouse gave a -sigh. It was almost a groan. - -She glanced at him once, and then lowered her eyes half fearfully to the -ground. And, getting his breath rapidly, the preacher bent more closely -over her shoulder, as if to catch some reply from her lips. She made -none. - -"Yes, I'm in the dregs again--miserable, afraid, jealous! You know why, -Miss Cynthia. You know that any lover would be concerned to see the girl -upon whom he had based his every hope going often with Nelson Floyd, a -man about whom people say--" - -"Stop!" the girl turned upon him suddenly and gazed into his eyes -steadily. "If you have anything to say against him, don't do it to me. -He's my friend, and I will not listen to anything against those I like." - -"I'm not going to criticise him." Hillhouse bit his white, unsteady lip, -as he pinched it between his thumb and index finger. "A man's a fool -that will try to win a woman by running down his rival. The way to run a -man up in a woman's eye is to openly run him down. Men are strong enough -to bear such things, but women don't think so. They shelter them like -they do their babies. No, I wasn't going to run him down, but I am -afraid of him. When you go out driving with him, I--" - -Again Cynthia turned upon him and looked at him steadily, her eyes -flashing. "Don't go too far; you might regret it," she said. "It is an -insult to be spoken to as you are speaking to me." - -"Oh, don't, don't! You misunderstand me," protested the bewildered -lover. "I--I am not afraid of--you understand, of course, I'm not afraid -you will not be able to--to take care of yourself, but he has so -many qualities that win and attract women that--Oh, I'm jealous, Miss -Cynthia, that's the whole thing in a nutshell. He has the reputation of -being a great favorite with all women, and now that he seems to admire -you more than any of the rest--" The girl raised her eyes from the -ground; a touch of color rose to her cheeks. "He doesn't admire me -more than the others," she said, tentatively. "You are mistaken, Mr. -Hillhouse." - -He failed to note her rising color, the subtle eagerness oozing from her -compact self-control. - -"No, I'm not blind," he went on, blindly building up his rival's cause. -"He admires you extravagantly--he couldn't help it. You are beautiful, -you have vivacity, womanly strength, and a thousand other qualities that -are rare in this out-of-the-way place. Right here I want to tell you -something. I know you will laugh, for you don't seem to care for such -things, but you know Colonel Price is quite an expert on genealogical -matters. He's made a great study of it, and his chief hobby is that many -of these sturdy mountain people are the direct descendants of fine -old English families from younger sons, you know, who settled first in -Virginia and North Carolina, and then drifted into this part of Georgia. -He didn't know of my admiration for you, but one day, at the meeting of -the Confederate Veterans at Springtown, he saw you on the platform with -the other ladies, and he said: 'I'll tell you, Hill-house, right there -is a living proof of what I have always argued. That daughter of Nathan -Porter has a face that is as patrician as any woman of English royal -birth. I understand,' the colonel went on to say, 'that her mother was -a Radcliffe, which is one of the best and most historic of the Virginia -families, and Porter, as rough as he is, comes from good old English -stock.' Do you wonder, Cynthia, that I agree with him? There really -is good blood in you. Your grandmother is one of the most refined and -gentle old ladies I have ever met anywhere, and I have been about a good -deal." - -"I am not sure that Colonel Price is right," the girl responded. "I've -heard something of that kind before. I think Colonel Price had an -article in one of the Atlanta papers about it, with a list of old family -names. My father knows little or nothing about his ancestry, but my -grandmother has always said her forefathers were wealthy people. She -remembers her grandmother as being a fine old lady who, poor as she was, -tried to make her and the other children wear their bonnets and gloves -in the sun to keep their complexions white. But I don't like to discuss -that sort of thing, Mr. Hillhouse. It won't do in America. I think we -are what we make _ourselves_, not what others have made of _themselves._ -One is individuality, the other open imitation." - -The young man laughed. "That's all very fine," he said. "When it -was your forefathers who made it possible for you to have the mental -capacity for the very opinion you have just expressed. At any rate, -there is a little comfort in your view, for if you were to pride -yourself on Price's theories, as many a woman would, you might look -higher than a poor preacher with such an untraceable name as mine. And -you know, ordinary as it is, you have simply got to wear it sooner or -later." - -"You must not mention that again," Cynthia said, firmly. "I tell you, -I am not good enough for a minister's wife. There is a streak of -worldliness in me that I shall never overcome." - -"That cuts me like a knife," said Hillhouse. "It hurts because it -reminds me of something I once heard Pole Baker say in a group at the -post-office. He said that women simply do not like what is known as a -'goody-goody' man. Sometimes as coarse a fellow as Pole hits the nail -of truth on the head while a better-educated man would miss and mash his -thumb. But if I am in the pulpit, I'm only human. It seemed to me the -other day when I saw you and Nelson Floyd driving alone up the mountain -that the very fires of hell itself raged inside of me. I always hold -family prayer at home for the benefit of my mother and sister, but that -night I cut it out, and lay on the bed rolling and tossing like a crazy -man. He's handsome, Miss Cynthia, and he has a soft voice and a way of -making all women sympathize with him--why they do it, I don't know. It's -true he's had a most miserable childhood, but he is making money hand -over hand now, and has everything in his favor." - -"He's not a happy man, Mr. Hillhouse; any one who knows him can see -that." - -"Oh, I suppose he broods over the mystery that hangs over his origin," -said the preacher. "That's only natural for an ambitious man. I once -knew a fellow who was a foundling, and he told me he never intended to -get married on that account. He was morbidly sensitive about it, but it -is different with Floyd. He _does_ know his name, at least, and he will, -no doubt, discover his relatives some day. But it hurts me to see you -with him so much." - -"Why, he goes with other girls," Cynthia said, her lips set together -tightly, her face averted. - -"And perhaps you know, Miss Cynthia, that people talk about some of the -girls he has been with." - -"I know that," said the girl, looking at him with an absent glance. -"There is no use going over it. I hear nothing all day long at home -except that--that--that! Oh, sometimes I wish I were dead!" - -"Ah, that hurts worse than anything I have heard you say," declared the -minister, stroking his thin face with an unsteady hand. "Why should -a beautiful, pure, human flower like you be made unhappy because of -contact with a--" - -"Stop, I tell you, stop!" the girl stared at him with flashing eyes. "I -am not going to have you talk to me as if I were a child. I know him as -well as you do. You constantly preach that a person ought to be forgiven -of his sins, and yet you want to load some people down with theirs--that -is, when it suits you. He has as good a right to--to--to reform as any -one, and I myself have heard you say that the vilest sin often purifies -and lifts one up. Don't get warped all to one side, Mr. Hillhouse. I -shall not respect your views any more if you do." - -The minister was white in the face and trembling helplessly. - -"You are tying me hand and foot," he said, with a sigh. "If I ever had a -chance to gain my desires I am killing them, but God knows I can't help -it. I am fighting for my life." - -"And behind another's back," added the girl, bravely. "You've got to -be fair to him. As for myself, I don't believe half the things that the -busy-bodies have said about him. Let me tell you something." They -had come to a little brook which they had to cross on brown, almost -submerged stepping-stones, and she paused, turned to him and laid her -small hand on his arm, and said, portentously: "Nelson Floyd has been -alone with me several times, and has never yet told me that he loved -me." - -"I'm not going to say what is in my mind," Hill-house said, with a cold, -significant, even triumphant sneer on his white lip, as he took her hand -and helped her across the stream. - -"You say you won't?" Cynthia gave him her eyes, almost pleadingly. - -"That is, not unless you will let me be plain with you," Hillhouse -answered, "as plain as I'd be to my sister." - -They walked on side by side in silence, now very near her father's -house. - -"You may as well finish what you were going to say," the girl gave -in, with a sigh of resignation not untinged with a curiosity which had -devoured her precaution. - -"Well, I was going to say that, if what I have gathered here and -there is true, it is Nelson Floyd's favorite method to _look_, do you -understand?--to _look_, not talk love to the girls he goes with. He has -never, it seems, committed himself by a scratch of a pen or by word of -mouth, and yet every silly woman he has paid attention to (before he -began to go with you) has secretly sworn to herself that she was the -world and all to him." - -Cynthia's face became grave. Her glance went down, and for a moment she -seemed incapable of speech. Finally, however, her color rose, and she -laughed defiantly. - -"Well, here is a girl, Mr. Hillhouse, who will not be fooled that -way, you may rely on that. So don't, worry about me. I'll take care of -myself." - -"I've no doubt you will," said the preacher, gloomily. - -"Yes, you'll see that I can," Cynthia declared, with animation. "There's -mother on the porch. Good gracious! do change the subject. If she sets -in on it, I'll not come to the table. Like you, she believes all she has -heard against him. She likes you and hates the ground he walks on." - -"Perhaps that, too, will be my damnation," Hill-house retorted. "I know -something about human nature. I may see the day that I'd be glad of a -doubtful reputation." - -He caught her reproachful glance at this remark as he opened the gate -for her and followed her in. Porter sat on the porch in the shade -reading a newspaper, and his wife stood in the door-way. - -"Run in and take off your things, Cynthia," Mrs. Porter said, with a -welcoming smile. "Brother Hillhouse can sit with your pa till we call -dinner. I want you to help me a little bit. Your grandmother is lying -down, and doesn't feel well enough to come to the table." - -When the women had gone in, and the preacher had seated himself in -a rough, hide-bottomed chair near his host, Porter, with a chuckle, -reached down to the floor and picked up a short, smooth stick, to the -end of which was attached a piece of leather about three inches wide and -four inches long. - -"That's an invention o' mine," Porter explained, proudly, as he tapped -his knee with the leather. "Brother Hillhouse, ef you was to offer me a -new five-dollar note fer this thing, an' I couldn't git me another, I'd -refuse p'int blank." - -"You don't say," said Hillhouse, concentrating his attention to the -article by strong effort; "what is it for?" - -"I don't know any other name fer it than a 'fly-flap,'" said Porter. "I -set here one day tryin' to read, an' the flies made sech a dead-set at -my bald head that it mighty nigh driv' me crazy. I kept fightin' 'em -with my paper an' knockin' my specks off an' losin' my place at sech a -rate that I got to studyin' how to git out of the difficulty, fer thar -was a long fly-spell ahead of us. Well, I invented this thing, an' I -give you my word it's as good fun as goin' a-fishin'. I kin take it in -my hand--this away--an' hold the paper, too, an' the minute one o' the -devilish things lights on my scalp, I kin give a twist o' the wrist an' -that fly's done fer. You see the leather is too flat an' saft to hurt -_me_, an' I never seed a fly yit that was nimble enough to git out from -under it. But my fun is mighty nigh over," Porter went on. "Flies has -got sense; they profit by experience the same as folks does; at any -rate, they seem to know thar's a dead-fall set on my bald-spot, an' -they've quit tryin' to lay the'r eggs in the root-holes o' my hair. Only -now and then a newcomer is foolhardy and inclined to experiment. The old -customers are as scared o' my head as they are of a spider-web." - -"It certainly is a rare device," said Hillhouse. "I don't know that I -ever heard of one before." - -"I reckon not," the farmer returned, placidly. "Somebody always has to -lead out in matters of improvement. My wife an' daughter was dead-set -agin me usin' it at fust. They never looked into the workin' of it -close, an' thought I mashed my prey on my head, but thar never was a -bigger mistake. The flap don't even puncture the skin, as tender as -the'r hides are. I know it don't, beca'se they always fall flat o' the'r -backs an' kick awhile before givin' up. I invented another thing that I -value mighty nigh as high as I do this. I never have seed another one -o' them in use, nuther. It's in my room in the bureau-drawer. It's a -back-scratcher. It's got a long, white-oak handle, like this, an' a -little, rake-shaped trick with hickory teeth at the end. Well, sir, you -may not believe it, but I kin shove that thing down under my shirt an' -hit a ticklin' spot before you kin bat yore eye, while I used to rub the -bark off'n the trees, all about, in my effort to git bodily relief. You -may 'a' seed me leave meetin' right in the middle o' some o' yore talks. -Well, that's beca'se my wife an' Cynthia won't let me take it to church -with me. They'd a thousand times ruther I'd go outside an' rub agin a -tree like a razor-back shote than have me do a thing that the Prices an' -Duncans hain't accustomed to. Sech folks are agin progress." - -Hillhouse laughed obligingly, his mind on what Cynthia had said to him, -and then Mrs. Porter came to the door and announced that dinner was -served. - - - - -V - - -POLE BAKER decided to give the young people of the neighborhood a -"corn-shucking." He had about fifty bushels of the grain which he said -had been mellowing and sweetening in the husk all the winter, and, -as the market-price had advanced from sixty to seventy-five cents, he -decided to sell. - -Pole's corn-shuckings were most enjoyable festivities. Mrs. Baker -usually had some good refreshments and the young people came for miles -around. The only drawback about the affairs was that Pole seldom had -much corn to husk, and the fun was over too soon. The evening chosen for -the present gathering was favored with clear moonlight and delightfully -balmy weather, and when Nelson Floyd walked over after working an hour -on his books at the store, he found a merry group in Pole's front-yard. - -"Yo're jest in time," Pole called out to him, as he threw the frail gate -open for the guest to pass through. "I was afeared thar was a few more -petticoats than pants to string around my pile o' corn, an' you'll help -even up. Come on, all of you, let's mosey on down to the barn. Sally," -he called out to his wife, a sweet-faced woman on the porch, "put them -childern to sleep an' come on." - -With merry laughter the young men and girls made a rush in the direction -of the barn. Nelson Floyd, with a sudden throbbing of the heart, had -noticed Cynthia Porter in the group, and as he and Baker fell in behind -he asked: "Who came with Cynthia Porter, Pole?" - -"Nobody," said Baker. "She come over jest 'fore dark by the short-cut -through the meadow. I'll bet a hoss you are thinkin' o' galavantin' 'er -back home." - -"That's what I came for," said Floyd, with a smile. - -"Well, I'm sorry, fer this once," said Pole; "but I cayn't alter my -plans fer friend or foe. I don't have but one shuckin' a year, an' on -that occasion I'm a-goin' to be plumb fair to all that accept my invite. -You may git what you want, but you'll have to stand yore chance with the -balance. I'll announce my rules in a minute, an' then you'll understand -what I mean." - -They had now reached the great cone of com heaped up at the door of -the barn, and the merrymakers were dancing around it in the moonlight, -clapping their hands and singing. - -"Halt one minute!" Pole called out peremptorily, and there was silence. -"Now," he continued, "all of you set down on the straw an' listen to my -new rules. I've been studyin' these out ever since my last shuckin', an' -these will beat all. Now listen! Time is a great improver, an' we all -don't have to-shuck corn jest like our granddaddies did. I want to make -this thing interest you, fer that pile o' corn has to be shucked an' -throwed into the barn 'fore you leave yore places." - -"Well, I wouldn't preach a sermon fust," laughed Mrs. Baker, as she -appeared suddenly. "Boys an' gals that git together fer a good time -don't want to listen to an old married man talk." - -"But one married man likes to listen to _that woman_ talk, folks," Pole -broke in, "fer her voice makes sweet music to his ear. That's a fact, -gentlemen an' ladies; here's one individual that could set an' listen to -that sweet woman's patient voice from dark to sun-up, an' then pray fer -more dark, an' more talk. I hain't the right sort of a man to yoke to, -but she is the right sort of a woman. They hain't all that way, though, -boys, an' I'd advise you that are worthy of a good helpmate to think an' -look before you plunge into matrimony. Matrimony is like a sheet of ice, -which, until you bust it, may cover pure, runnin' water or a stagnant -mud-hole. Before marriage a woman will say yes an' no, as meek as that -entire bunch of females. Sugar wouldn't melt in 'er mouth, but when she -hooks her fish she'll do her best to make a sucker out'n it ef it's a -brook trout at the start. I mean a certain _kind_ of a woman, now; but -thank the Lord, He made the other sort, too, an' the other sort, boys, -is what you ort to look fer. I heard a desperate old bach say once that -he believed he'd stand a better chance o' gittin' a good female nature -under a homely exterior than under a pretty one, an' he was on the -rampage fer a snaggle tooth; but I don't know. A nature that's made -jest by a face won't endure one way or another long. Thar's my little -neighbor over thar, ef she don't combine both a purty face an' a sweet, -patient nature I'm no judge." - -"Hush, Pole, Cynthia don't want you to single her out in public that -away," protested Mrs. Baker. - -"He's simply bent on flattering more work out of me," responded Cynthia, -quite adroitly, Floyd thought, as he noted her blushes in the moonlight. -"We are waiting for your rules, Mr. Baker." - -"Yes," spoke up Floyd, "give us the rules, and let us go to work, and -then you can talk all you want to." - -"All right, here goes. Well, you are all settin' about the same distance -from the pile, an' you've got an equal chance. Now, the fust man or -woman who finds a red ear of corn must choose a partner to work with, -an', furthermore, it shall be the duty o' the man to escort the girl -home, an' in addition to that the winnin' man shall be entitled to -kiss any girl in the crowd, an' she hereby pledges herself to submit -graceful. It's a bang-up good rule, fer them that want to be kissed kin -take a peep at the ear 'fore it's shucked, an' throw it to any man they -like, an' them that don't kin hope fer escape by blind luck from sech an -awful fate." - -"I think, myself, that it would be an awful fate to be kissed by a man -you didn't care for," laughed Mrs. Baker. "Pole has made his rules to -suit the men better than the women." - -"The second rule is this," added Pole, with a smile, "an' that is, that -whoever finds a red ear, man or woman, I git to kiss my wife." - -"Good, that's all right!" exclaimed Floyd, and everybody laughed as they -set to work. Pole sat down near Floyd, and filled and lighted his pipe. -"I used to think everything was fair in a game whar gals was concerned," -he said in an undertone. "I went to a shuckin' once whar they had these -rules an' I got on to exactly what I see you are on to." - -"Me? What do you mean?" asked Floyd. "Why, you sly old dog, you are not -shuckin' more than one ear in every three you pick up. You are lookin' -to see ef the silk is dark. You have found out that a red ear always -has dark silk." Floyd laughed. "Don't give me away, Pole. I learned that -when old man Scott used to send me out on a frosty morning to feed the -cattle." - -"Well, I won't say nothin'," Pole promised. "Ef money was at stake, -it 'ud be different, but they say all's fair whar wine an' women is -concerned. Besides, the sharper a man is the better he'll provide fer -the wife he gits, an' a man ought to be allowed to profit by his own -experience. You go ahead; ef you root a red ear out o' that pile, old -hog, I'll count you in." Pole rose and went round the other side of the -stack. There was a soft rustling sound as the husks were torn away and -swept in rising billows behind the workers, and the steady thumping of -the ears as they fell inside the barn. - -It was not a fair game he was playing, and yet Nelson Floyd cared little -for that. Even as it was, it was growing monotonous. He had come there -to see Cynthia, and Pole's new rule was not what he had counted on. -There was a lull in the merriment and general rustle, and Floyd heard -Hattie Mayhew say in a clear tone: "I know why Cynthia is so quiet. It's -because there wasn't somebody here to open with prayer." - -Floyd was watching Cynthia's face, and he saw it cloud over for a -moment. She made some forced reply which he could not hear. It was Kitty -Welborn's voice that came to him on her merry laugh. - -"Oh, yes, Cynthia has us all beaten badly!" said that little blonde. "We -worked our fingers to the bones fixing up his room. Cynthia didn't -lay her hand to it, and yet he never looks at any one else while he is -preaching, and as soon as the sermon is over he rushes for her. They say -Mr. Porter thinks Mr. Hillhouse is watching him, and has quit going to -sleep." - -"That's a fact," said Fred Denslow, as he aimed a naked ear of corn at -the barn-door and threw it. "The boys say Hillhouse will even let 'em -cuss before him, just so they will listen to what he says about Miss -Cynthia." - -"That isn't fair to Miss Cynthia," Nelson Floyd observed, suddenly. "I'm -afraid you are making it pretty hot for her on that side, so I'm going -to invite her over here. You see I have found the first red ear of corn, -and it's big enough to count double." - -There was a general shout and clapping of hands as Floyd held it up to -view in the moonlight. He put it into the pocket of his coat, as he rose -and moved round towards Cynthia. Bending down to her, he said: "Come on, -you've got to obey the rules of the game, you know." - -She allowed him to draw her to her feet. - -"Now fer the fust act?" Pole Baker cried out. "I hain't a-goin' to have -no bashful corn-shuckers. Ef you balk or kick over a trace, I'll leave -you out next time, shore." - -"You didn't make a thoroughly fair rule, Pole," said Floyd. "The days of -woman slavery are past. I shall not take advantage of the situation, for -I know Miss Cynthia is praying for mercy right now." Everybody laughed -as Floyd led the girl round to his place and raked up a pile of shucks -for her to sit on. - -"Well, there ought to have been another rule," laughed Fred Denslow, -"an' to the effect that if the winning man, through sickness, lack of -backbone, or sudden death, was prevented from takin' the prize, -somebody else ought to have had a chance. Here I've been workin' like -a corn-field negro to win, and now see the feller Heaven has smiled on -throwin' that sort of a flower away. Good gracious, what's the world -comin' to?" - -"Well, I'll have _mine_, anyway," Pole Baker was heard to say, and he -took his little wife in his arms and kissed her tenderly. - - - - -VI - - -REFRESHMENTS had been served, the last ear of com husked and thrown -into the bam, and they had all risen to depart, when Hillhouse hurried -down the path from the cottage. He was panting audibly, and had -evidently been walking fast. He shook hands perfunctorily with Pole and -his wife, and then turned to Cynthia. - -"I'm just from your house," he said, "and I promised your mother to come -over after you. I was afraid I'd be late. The distance round by the road -is longer than I thought." - -"I'm afraid you _are_ too late," said Floyd, with a polite smile. "I was -lucky enough to find the first red ear of corn, and the reward was -that I might take home any one I asked. I assure you I'll see that Miss -Cynthia is well taken care of." - -"Oh! I--I see." The preacher seemed stunned by the disappointment. "I -didn't know; I thought--" - -"Yes, Floyd has won fast enough," said Pole. "An' he's acted the part -of the gentleman all through." Pole explained what Floyd had done in -excusing Miss Cynthia from the principal forfeit he had won. - -But Hillhouse seemed unable to reply. The young people were moving -towards the cottage, and he fell behind Floyd and his partner, walking -along with the others and saying nothing. - -It was a lonely, shaded road which Floyd and his companion traversed to -reach her home. - -"My luck turned just in the nick of time," he said, exultantly. "I went -there, Cynthia, especially to talk with you, and I was mad enough to -fight when I saw how Pole had arranged everything. Then, by good-fortune -and cheating, I found that red ear; and, well, here we are. You have no -idea how pretty you look, with your hair--" - -"Stop, don't begin that!" Cynthia suddenly commanded, and she turned her -eyes upon him steadily. - -"Stop? Why do you say that?" - -"Because you talk that way to all the girls, and I don't want to hear -it." - -Floyd laughed. "I declare you are a strange little creature. You simply -won't let me be nice to you." - -"Well, I'm sure I don't like you when you speak that way," the girl -said, seriously. "It sounds insincere--it makes me doubt you more than -anything else." - -"Then some things about me _don't_ make you doubt me," he said, with -tentative eagerness. - -She was silent for a moment, then she nodded her head. "I'll admit that -some things I hear of you make me rather admire you, in a way." - -"Please tell me what they are," he said, with a laugh. - -"I've heard, for one thing, of your being very good and kind to poor -people--people who Mr. Mayhew would have turned out of their homes for -debt if you hadn't interfered." - -"Oh, that was only business, Cynthia," Floyd laughed. "I simply can see -farther than the old man can--that's all. He thought those customers -never would be able to pay, but I knew they would some day, and, -moreover, that they would come up with the back interest." - -"I don't believe it," the girl said, firmly. "Those things make me -rather like you, while the others make--they make me--doubt." - -"Doubt? Oh, you odd little woman!" They had reached a spring which -flowed from a great bed of rocks in the side of a rugged hill. He -pointed to a flat stone quite near it. "Do you remember, Cynthia, the -first time I ever had a talk with you? It was while we were seated on -this very rock." - -She recalled it, but only nodded her head. - -"It was a year ago," he pursued. "You had on a pink dress and wore your -hair like a little girl in a plait down your back. Cynthia, you were -the prettiest creature I had ever seen. I could hardly talk to you for -wondering over your dazzling beauty. You are even more beautiful now; -you have ripened; you are the most graceful woman I ever saw, and your -mouth!--Cynthia, I'll swear you have the most maddening mouth God ever -made out of flesh, blood and--soul!" He caught her hand impulsively and -sat down on the stone, drawing her steadily towards him. - -She hesitated, looking back towards Baker's cottage. - -"Sit down, little girl," he entreated, "I'm tired. I've worked hard all -day at the store, and that corn-shucking wasn't the best thing to taper -off on." She hesitated an instant longer, and then allowed him to draw -her down beside him. "There, now," he said. "That is more like it." He -still held her hand; it lay warm, pulsating and helpless in his strong, -feverish grasp. - -"Do you know why I did not kiss you back there?" he asked, suddenly. - -"I don't know why you didn't, but it was good of you," she answered. - -"No, it wasn't," he laughed. "I won't take credit for what I don't -deserve. I simply put it off, Cynthia--put it off. I knew we would be -alone on our way home, and that you would not refuse me." - -"But I shall!" she said, with a start. "I'm not going to let you kiss me -here in--in this way." - -"Then you'll not pay the forfeit you owe," he said, fondling her hand. -"I've always considered you fair in everything, and, Cynthia, you don't -know how much I want to kiss you. No, you won't refuse me--you can't." -His left arm was behind her, and it encircled her waist. She made an -effort to draw herself erect, but he drew her closer to him. Her head -sank upon his shoulder and lay there while he pressed his lips to hers. - -Then she sat up, and firmly pushed his arm down from her waist. - -"I'm sorry I let you do it," she said, under her breath. - -"But why, darling?" - -"Because I've said a thousand times that I would not, but I have--I -_have_, and I shall hate myself always." - -"When you have made me the happiest fellow in the state?" Floyd said, -passionately. "Don't go," he urged, for she had risen and drawn her -hand from his and turned towards her home. He rose and stood beside her, -suiting his step to hers. - -"Do you remember the night we sat and talked in the grape-arbor behind -your house?" he asked. "Well, you never knew it, but I've been there -three nights within the last month, hoping that I'd get to see you by -some chance or other. I always work late on my accounts, and when I am -through, and the weather is fine, I walk to your house, climb over -the fence, slip through the orchard, and sit in that arbor, trying to -imagine you are there with me. I often see a light in your room, and the -last time I became so desperate that I actually whistled for you. This -way--" He put his thumb and little finger between his lips and made an -imitation of a whippoorwill's call. "You see, no one could tell that -from the real thing. If you ever hear that sound again in the direction -of the grape-arbor you'll know I need you, little girl, and you must not -disappoint me." - -"I'd never respond to it," Cynthia said, firmly. "The idea of such a -thing!" - -"But you know I can't go to your house often with your mother opposing -my visits as she does, and when I'm there she never leaves us alone. No, -I must have you to myself once in a while, little woman, and you must -help me. Remember, if I call you, I'll want you badly." He whistled -again, and the echo came back on the still air from a nearby hill-side. -They were passing a log-cabin which stood a few yards from the -road-side. - -"Budd Crow moved there to-day," Cynthia said, as if desirous of changing -the subject. "He rented twenty acres from my father. The 'White Caps' -whipped him a week ago, for being lazy and not working for his family. -His wife came over and told me all about it. She said it really had -brought him to his senses, but that it had broken her heart. She cried -while she was talking to me. Why does God afflict some women with men of -that kind, and make others the wives of governors and presidents?" - -"Ah, there you are beyond my philosophic depth, Cynthia. You mustn't -bother your pretty head about those things. I sometimes rail against -my fate for giving me the ambition of a king while I do not even know -who--but I think you know what I mean?" - -"Yes, I think I do," said the girl, sympathetically, "and some day I -believe all that will be cleared up. Some coarse natures wouldn't care -a straw about it, but you _do_ care, and it is the things we want and -can't get that count." - -"It is strange," he said, thoughtfully, "but of late I always think of -my mother as having been young and beautiful. I think of her, too, as a -well-bred, educated woman with well-to-do relatives. I think all those -things without any proof even as to what her maiden name was or where -she came from. Are you still unhappy at home, Cynthia?" - -"Nearly all the time," the girl sighed. "As she grows older my mother -gets more fault-finding and suspicious than ever. Then she has set her -mind on my marrying Mr. Hillhouse. They seem to be working together to -that end, and it is very tiresome to me." - -"Well, I'm glad you don't love him," Floyd said. "I don't think he could -make any one of your nature happy." - -The girl stared into his eyes. They had reached the gate of the -farm-house and he opened it for her. "Now, good-night," he said, -pressing her hand. "Remember, if you ever hear a lonely whippoorwill -calling, that he is longing for companionship." - -She leaned over the gate, drawing it towards her till the iron latch -clicked in its catch. With a shudder she recalled the hot kiss he had -pressed upon her lips, and wondered what he might later think about it. - -"I'll never meet you there at night," she said, firmly. "My mother -doesn't treat me right, but I shall not act that way when she is asleep. -You may come to see me here now and then, but it will go no further than -that." - -"Well, I shall sit alone in the arbor," he returned with a low laugh, -"and I hope your hard heart will keep you awake. I wouldn't treat a -hound-dog that way, little girl." - -"Well, I shall treat a strong man that way," she said, and she went into -the house. - -She opened the front-door, which was never locked, and went into her -room on the right of the little hall. The night was very still, and down -the road she heard Floyd's whippoorwill call growing fainter and fainter -as he strode away. She found a match and lighted the lamp on her -bureau and looked at her reflection in the little oval-shaped mirror. -Remembering his embrace, she shuddered and wiped her lips with her hand. - -"He'll despise me," she muttered. "He'll think I am weak, like those -other girls, but I am not. I _am not_. I'll show him that he can't, and -yet"--her head sank to her hands, which were folded on the top of the -bureau--"I couldn't help it. My God! I couldn't help it. I must have -actually wanted him to--no, I didn't. I didn't; he held me. I had no -idea his arm was behind me till he--" - -There was a soft step in the hall. The door of her room creaked like the -low scream of a cat. A gaunt figure in white stood on the threshold. It -was Mrs. Porter in her night-dress, her feet bare, her iron-gray hair -hanging loose upon her shoulders. - -"I couldn't go to sleep, Cynthia," she said, "till I knew you were safe -at home." - -"Well, I'm here all right, mother, so go back to bed and don't catch -your death of cold." - -The old woman moved across the room to Cynthia's bed and sat down on it. -"I heard you coming down the road and went to the front window. I had -sent Brother Hillhouse for you, but it was Nelson Floyd who brought you -home. Didn't Brother Hillhouse get there before you left?" - -"Yes, but I had already promised Mr. Floyd." The old woman met her -daughter's glance steadily. "I suppose all I'll do or say won't do a bit -o' good. Cynthia, you know what I'm afraid of." - -The girl stood straight, her face set and firm, her great, dreamy eyes -flashing. - -"Yes, and that's the insult of it. Mother, you almost make me think you -are judging my nature by your own, when you were at my age. I tell you -you will drive me too far. A girl at a certain time of her life wants -a mother's love and sympathy; she doesn't want threats, fears, and -disgraceful suspicions." - -Mrs. Porter covered her face with her bony hands and groaned aloud. - -"You are confessing," she said, "that you are tied an' bound to him by -the heart and that there isn't anything left for you but the crumbs he -lets fall from his profligate table. You confess that you are lyin' at -his feet, greedily lappin' up what he deigns to drop to you and the rest -of those--" - -"Stop!" Cynthia sprang to her mother and laid her small hand heavily on -the thin shoulder. "Stop, you know you are telling a deliberate--" She -paused, turned, and went slowly back to the bureau. "God forgive me! God -help me remember my duty to her as my mother. She's old; she's out of -her head." - -"There, you said something then!" The old woman had drawn herself erect -and sat staring at her daughter, her hands on her sharp knees. "That -reminds me of something else. You know my sister Martha got to worryin' -when she was along about my age over her law-suit matters, and kept it -up till her brain gave way. Folks always said she and I were alike. Dr. -Strong has told me time after time to guard against worry or I'd go out -and kill myself as she did. I haven't mentioned this before, but I do -now. I can't keep down my fears and suspicions, while the very air is -full of that man's conduct. He's a devil, I tell you--a devil in human -shape. Your pretty face has caught his fancy, and your holding him off, -so far, has made him determined to crush you like a plucked flower. Why -don't he go to the Duncans and the Prices and lay his plans? Because -those men shoot at the drop of a hat. He knows your pa is not of that -stamp and that you haven't any men kin to defend our family honor. He -hasn't any of his own; nobody knows who or what he is. My opinion is -that he's a nobody and knows it, and out of pure spite is trying to pull -everybody else down to his level." - -"Mother--" Cynthia's tone had softened. Her face was filling with sudden -pity for the quivering creature on the bed. "Mother, will you not have -faith in me? If I promise you honestly to take care of myself, and make -him understand what and who I am, won't that satisfy you? Even men with -bad reputations have a good side to their natures, and they often reach -a point at which they reform. A man like that interests a woman. I don't -dispute that, but there are strong women and weak women. Mother, I'm not -a weak woman; as God is my judge, I'm able to take care of myself. It -pains me to say this, for you ought to know it; you ought to _feel_ it. -You ought to see it in my eye and hear it in my voice. Now go to bed, -and sleep. I'm really afraid you may lose your mind since you told me -about Aunt Martha." - -The face of the old woman changed. It lighted up with sudden hope. - -"Somehow, I believe what you say," she said, with a faint smile. -"Anyway, I'll try not to worry any more." She rose and went to the door. -"Yes, I'll try not to worry any more," she repeated. "It may all come -out right." - -When she found herself alone Cynthia turned and looked at her reflection -in the glass. - -"He didn't once tell me plainly that he loved me," she said. "He has -never used that word. He has never said that he meant or wanted to -mar--" She broke off, staring into the depths of her own great, troubled -eyes--"and yet I let him hold me in his arms and kiss me--_me!_" A hot -flush filled her neck and face and spread to the roots of her hair. Then -suddenly she blew out the light and crept to her bed. - - - - -VII - - -ON the following Saturday morning there was, as usual, a considerable -gathering of farmers at Springtown. A heavy fall of rain during the -night had rendered the soil unfit for ploughing, and it was a sort of -enforced holiday. Many of them stood around Mayhew & Floyd's store. -Several women and children were seated between the two long counters, on -boxes and the few available chairs. Nelson Floyd was at the high desk in -the rear, occupied with business letters, when Pole Baker came in at the -back-door and stood near the writer, furtively scanning the long room. - -"Where's the old man?" he asked, when Floyd looked up and saw him. - -"Not down yet. Dry up, Pole; I was making a calculation, and you knocked -it hell west and crooked." - -"Well, I reckon that kin wait. I've got a note fer you." Pole was taking -it from his coat-pocket. - -"Miss Cynthia?" Floyd asked, eagerly. - -"Not by a long shot," said Pole. "I reckon maybe you'll wish it was." He -threw the missive on the desk, and went on in quite a portentous tone. -"I come by Jeff Wade's house, Nelson, on my way back from the mill. He -was inside with his wife and childern, an' as I was passin' one of the -little boys run out to the fence and called me in to whar he was. He's a -devil of a fellow! He's expectin' his wife to be confined, an' I saw he -was try'in' to keep her in the dark. What you reckon he said?" - -"How do I know?" The young merchant, with a serious expression of face, -had tom open the envelope, but had not yet unfolded the sheet of cheap, -blue-lined writing-paper. - -"Why, he jest set thar in his chair before the fire, an' as he handed -the note up to me he sorter looked knowin' an' said, said he: 'Pole, -I'm owin' Mayhew & Floyd a little balance on my account, an' they seem -uneasy. I wish you'd take this letter to young Floyd. He's always stood -to me, sorter, an' I believe he'll git old Mayhew to wait on me a little -while." - -"Did he say that, Pole?" Floyd had opened the note, but was looking -straight into Baker's eyes. - -"Yes, he said them very words, Nelson, although he knowed I was on hand -that day when he paid off his bill in full. I couldn't chip in thar -before his wife, an' the Lord knows I couldn't tell him I had an idea -what was in the note, so I rid on as fast as I could. I had a turn o' -meal under me, an' I tuck it off an' hid it in the thicket t'other side -o' Duncan's big spring. I wasn't goin' to carry a secret war-message -a-straddle o' two bushels o' meal warm from the mill-rocks. An' I'd bet -my hat that sheet o' paper hain't no flag o' truce." - -Floyd read the note. There was scarcely a change in the expression -of his face or a flicker of his eyelashes as he folded it with steady -fingers and held it in his hand. - -"Yes, he says he has got the whole story, Pole," Floyd said. "He gives -me fair warning as a man of honor to arm myself. He will be here at -twelve o'clock to the minute." - -"Great God!" Pole ejaculated. "You hain't one chance in a million to -escape with yore life. You seed how he shot t'other day. He was excited -then--he was as ca'm as a rock mountain when I seed him awhile ago, an' -his ride to town will steady 'im more. He sorter drawed down his mouth -at one corner an' cocked up his eye, same as to say, 'You understand; -thar hain't no use in upsettin' women folks over a necessary matter o' -this sort.' Looky' here, Nelson, old pard, some'n has got to be done, -an' it's got to be done in a damn big hurry." - -"It will have to be done at twelve 'clock, anyway," Floyd said, calmly, a -grim smile almost rising to his face. "That's the hour he's appointed." - -"Do you mean to tell me you are a-goin' to set here like a knot on a log -an' 'low that keen-eyed mountain sharp-shooter to step up in that door -an' pin you to that stool?" - -"No, I don't mean that, exactly, Pole," Floyd smiled, coldly. "A man -ought not to insult even his antagonist that way. You see, that would be -making the offended party liable for wilful, coldblooded murder before -the law. No, I've got my gun here in the drawer, and we'll make a -pretence at fighting a duel, even if he downs me in the first round." - -"You are a fool, that's what you are!" Pole was angry, without knowing -why. "Do you mean to tell me you are a-goin' to put yore life up like -that to gratify a man o' Jeff Wade's stamp?" - -"He's got his rights, Pole, and I intend to respect them," Floyd -responded with firmness. "I've hurt his family pride, and I'd deserve to -be kicked off the face of the earth if I turned tail and ran. He seems -to think I may light out; I judge that by his setting the time a couple -of hours ahead, but I'll give him satisfaction. I'm built that way, -Pole. There is no use arguing about it." - -The farmer stepped forward and laid a heavy-hand on Floyd's shoulder, -and stared at him from beneath his lowering brows. - -"You know, as well as I do, that you wasn't the only man that--that -dabbled in that dirty business," he said, sharply, "an' it's derned -foolish fer you to--" - -"I'm the only one he's charging with it," broke in the merchant, "and -that settles it. I'm not an overgrown baby, Pole. Right now you are -trying to get me to act in a way that would make you heartily ashamed -of me. You might as well dry up. I'm not going to run. I'm going to meet -Jeff Wade, fair and square, as a man--as I'd want him to meet me under -like circumstances." - -"My God! my God!" Pole said under his breath. "Hush! thar comes Mayhew. -I reckon you don't want him to know about it." - -"No, he'd be in for swearing out a peace-warrant. For all you do, Pole, -don't let him onto it. I've got to write a letter or two before Wade -comes; don't let the old man interrupt me." - -"I'll feel like I'm dancin' on yore scaffold," the farmer growled. -"I want my mind free to--to study. Thar! he's stopped to speak to Joe -Peters. Say, Nelson, I see Mel Jones down thar talkin' to a squad in -front o' the door; they've got the'r heads packed together as close as -sardines. I see through it now. My Lord, I see through _that_." - -"What is it you see through, Pole?" Floyd looked up from Wade's note, -his brow furrowed. - -"Why, Mel's Jeff Wade's fust cousin; he's onto what's up, an' he's -confidin' it to a few; it will be all over this town in five minutes, -an' the women an' childem will hide out to keep from bein' hit. Thar -they come in at the front now, an' they are around the old man like red -ants over the body of a black one. He'll be onto it in a minute. Thar, -see? What did I tell you? He's comin' this way. You can tell by the old -duck's waddle that he is excited." Floyd muttered something that escaped -Pole's ears, and began writing. Mayhew came on rapidly, tapping his -heavy cane on the floor, his eyes glued on the placid profile of his -young partner. - -"What's this I hear?" he panted. "Has Jeff Wade sent you word that he is -comin' here to shoot you?" - -Pole laughed out merrily, and, stepping forward, he slapped the old -merchant familiarly on the arm. "It's a joke, Mr. Mayhew," he said. "I -put it up on Mel Jones as me'n him rid in town; he's always makin' fun -o' women fer tattlin', an' said I to myse'f, said I, 'I'll see how deep -that's rooted under yore hide, old chap,' an' so I made that up out o' -whole cloth. I was jest tellin' Nelson, here, that I'd bet a hoss to a -ginger-cake that Mel 'ud not be able to keep it, an' he hain't. Nelson, -by George, the triflin' skunk let it out inside o' ten minutes, although -he swore to me he'd keep his mouth shet. I'll make 'im set up the drinks -on that." - -"Well, I don't like such jokes," Mayhew fumed. "Jokes like that and -what's at the bottom of them don't do a reputable house any good. And I -don't want any more of them. Do you understand, sir?" - -"Oh yes, I won't do it ag'in," answered Pole, in an almost absent-minded -tone. His eyes were now on Floyd, and, despite his assumed lightness of -manner, the real condition of things was bearing heavily on him. Just -then a rough-looking farmer, in a suit of home-made jeans, straw hat, -and shoes worn through at the bottom, came back to them. He held in his -hand the point of a plough, and looked nervously about him. - -"Everybody's busy down in front," he said, "an' I want to git a -quarter's wuth o' coffee." His glance, full of curiosity, was on Floyd's -face. "I want to stay till Wade comes, _myself_, but my old woman's -almost got a spasm. She says she seed, enough bloodshed an' carnage -durin' the war to do her, an' then she always liked Mr. Floyd. She says -she'd mighty nigh as soon see an own brother laid out as him. Mr. Floyd -sorter done us a favor two year back when he stood fer us on our corn -crop, an', as fer me, why, of course, I--" - -"Look here, Bill Champ," Pole burst out in a spontaneous laugh, "I -thought you had more sense than to swallow a joke like that. Go tell -yore old woman that I started that tale jest fer pure fun. Nelson here -an' Wade is good friends." - -"Oh, well, ef that's it, I'm sold," the farmer said, sheepishly. "But -from the way Mel Jones an' some more talked down thar a body would think -you fellers was back here takin' Mr. Floyd's measure fer his box. I'll -go quiet my wife. She couldn't talk of a thing all the way here this -mornin' but a new dress she was goin' to git, an' now she's fer hurryin' -back without even pickin' out the cloth." - -"No, I don't like this sort o' thing," old Mayhew growled as the -customer moved away. "An' I want you to remember that, Baker." - -"Oh, you dry up, old man!" Pole retorted, with sudden impatience. "You'd -live longer an' enjoy life better ef you'd joke more. Ef the marrow -o' my bones was as sour as yore'n is I'd cut my throat or go into the -vinegar business." - -At this juncture Captain Duncan came in the store and walked back to the -trio. - -"Good-morning," he said, cheerily. "Say, Floyd, I've heard the news, -and thought if you wanted to borrow a pair of real good, old-fashioned -duelling pistols, why, I've got some my father owned. They were once -used by General--" - -"It's all a joke, captain," Pole broke in, winking at the planter, and -casting a look of warning at the now unobservant Mayhew. - -"Oh, is _that_ it?" Duncan was quick of perception. - -"To tell you the truth, I thought so, boys. Yes, yes--" He was studying -Floyd's calm face admiringly. "Yes, it sounded to me like a prank -somebody was playing. Well, I thought I'd go fishing this evening, and -came in to get some hooks and lines. Fine weather, isn't it? but the -river's muddy. I'll go down and pick out some tackle." - -He had just gone when an old woman, wearing a cheap breakfast shawl over -her gray head, a dress of dingy solid-black calico, and a pair of old, -heavy shoes, approached from the door in the rear. - -"I got yore summons, Mr. Mayhew," she said, in a thin, shaky voice. -"Peter, my husband, was so down-hearted that he wouldn't come to town, -an' so I had to do it. So you are goin' to foreclose on us? The mule -an' cow is all on earth we've got to make the crop on, and when they are -gone we will be plumb ruined." - -The face of the old merchant was like carved stone. - -"You got the goods, didn't you, Mrs. Stark?" he asked, harshly. - -"Oh yes, we hain't disputin' the account," she answered, plaintively. - -"And you agreed faithfully if you didn't pay this spring that the mule -and cow would be our property?" - -"Oh yes, of course. As I say, Mr. Mayhew, I'm not blamin' you-uns. -Thar hain't a thing for me an' Peter to do but thrust ourselves on my -daughter and son-in-law over in Fannin', but I'd rather die than go. We -won't be welcome; they are loaded down with childern too young to work. -So it's settled, Mr. Mayhew--I mean, ef we drive over the mule an' cow, -thar won't be no lawsuit?" - -"No, there won't be any suit. I'd let this pass and give you more -time, Mrs. Stark, but a thing like that can't be kept quiet through the -country, an' there are fifty customers of ours over your way who'd be -runnin' here with some cock-and-bull story, and we'd be left high and -dry, with goods to pay for in market and nothing to show for it. We make -our rules, Mrs. Stark, and they are clearly understood at the time the -papers are signed." - -"Never you mind, Mrs. Stark, I'll fix that all right." It was Nelson -Floyd who was speaking, and with a face full of pity and tenderness he -had stepped forward and was offering to shake hands. - -The little woman, her lips twitching and drawn, gave him her hand, her -eyes wide open in groping wonder. - -"I don't understand, Nelson--Mr. Floyd--you mean--" - -"I mean that I'll have your entire account charged to me and you can -take your time about paying it--next fall, or the next, or any time it -suits you. I'll not press you fer it, if you never pay it. I passed your -place the other day and your crop looks very promising. You are sure to -get out of debt this coming fall." - -"Oh, Nelson--I--I don't know what to do about it. You see Mr. Mayhew -says--" - -"But I say it's all right," Floyd broke in, as he laid his hand softly -on her shoulder. "Go down in front and buy what you need to run on. I'll -assume the risk, if there is any." - -Mayhew turned suddenly; his face wore a fierce frown and his thick lip -shook. - -"Do you mean to say, Nelson, that you are going to step in and--" - -"Step in nothing!" Floyd said, calmly. "I hope I won't have to remind -you, sir, of our clearly written agreement of partnership, in which -it is plainly stated that I may use my judgment in regard to customers -whenever I wish." - -"You'll ruin us--you'll break us all to smash, if you do this sort of -thing," Mayhew panted. "It will upset our whole system." - -"I don't agree with you, sir," Floyd answered, tartly, "but we won't -argue about it. If you don't intend to abide by our agreement, then say -so and we will part company." - -Mayhew stared in alarm for a moment, then he said: - -"There's no use talking about parting. I only want to kind of hold you -in check. You get your sympathies stirred up and make plunges sometimes -when you ought to act with a clear, impartial head. You say the crop -looks well; then it's all right. Go ahead, Mrs. Stark. Anything Nelson -does is agreeable to me." - -"Well, it's mighty good of you both," the old woman said, wiping tears -of joy from her eyes. "But I won't buy anything to-day. I'll ride out -to the farm as quick as I can and tell Peter the good news. He's mighty -nigh out of his senses about it." - -Mayhew followed her down into the store. It was as if he were ashamed to -meet the quizzical look which Pole Baker had fixed upon him. He had -no sooner turned his back than Pole faced Floyd, his heavy brows drawn -together, his every feature working under stress of deep emotion. - -"They say the Almighty is a just and a good God," Pole said. "But I'll -deny it all the rest o' my life ef He lets Jeff Wade shoot down sech a -specimen o' manhood as you are fer jest that one slip, after--after, I -say, after fillin' you with the fire of youth an' puttin' right in yore -track a gal like that Minnie Wade, with a pair o' dare-devil eyes an' a -shape that ud make a Presbyterian preacher--" - -"Dry up, Pole!" Floyd cried, suddenly. "Don't forget yourself in your -worry about me. A man is always more to blame than a woman, and it's -only the cowards that shirk the consequences." - -"Well, you have it yore way, an' I'll have it mine," Pole snorted. "What -both of us think hain't got a damn thing to do with the time o' day. How -does she stand by your ticker?" - -Floyd looked at his watch. "It's a quarter-past eleven," he said. - -"The hell it is!" Pole went to the back-door and looked out at the -dreary stable-yard and barn. He stood there for several minutes in -deep thought, then he seemed to make up his mind on something that was -troubling him, for he suddenly thrust his hand into his hip-pocket, -turned his back on Floyd, drew out a revolver, and rapidly twirled the -cylinder with his heavy thumb. - -"Yes, I 'lowed I'd swore off from shootin'-scrapes," he mused; "but I -shore have to git in this un. I'd never look Sally an' the childern in -the face ag'in ef I was to stand still an' let that dead-shot kill the -best friend me an' them ever had. No, Poley, old boy, you've got to -enlist this mornin', an' thar hain't no two ways about it. I'd take a -drink on it, but a feller's aim ain't wuth a dang when he sees double." - -His attention was suddenly attracted to Floyd, who had left his stool -and was putting a revolver into the pocket of his sack-coat. Pole shoved -his own cautiously back into his pocket and went to his friend's side. - -"What you goin' to do now?" he asked. - -"I have just thought of something that ought to be attended to," was the -young merchant's answer. "Is Mel Jones still down there?" - -"Yes, I see 'im now through the left-hand window," said Pole. "Do you -want to speak to 'im?" - -"Yes." Floyd moved in the direction indicated, and Pole wonderingly -followed. Outside on the pavement, at the corner of the store, Jones -stood talking to a group of eager listeners. He stopped when he saw -Floyd and looked in the opposite direction, but in a calm voice the -young merchant called him. - -"Mel, may I see you a minute?" - -"Certainly." The face of the gaunt farmer fell as he came forward, his -eyes shifting uneasily. - -"I got a message from Jeff Wade just now," said Floyd. - -"Oh, did you?--is that so?" the fellow exclaimed. - -"Yes, he says he has a private matter to settle with me, and says he'll -be here at the store at twelve. Now, as you see, Mel, there are a good -many people standing around--women and children--and somebody might get -hurt or frightened. You know where Price's spring is, down behind the -old brick-yard?" - -"Oh yes, I know where it is, Floyd." - -"Well, you will do me a favor if you will ride out to Wade's and tell -him I'll meet him there. He could reach it without coming through town, -and we'd escape a lot of prying people who would only be in the way." - -"That's a good idea," said Jones, his strong face lighting up. "Yes, -I'll go tell 'im. I'm glad to see that you are a man o' backbone, Floyd. -Some 'lowed that you'd throw up the sponge an' leave fer parts unknown, -but Jeff's got to tackle the rale stuff. I kin see that, Floyd. Minnie's -raised a lots o' devilment, an' my wife says she don't blame you one -bit, but Jeff cayn't be expected to see it through a woman's eyes. I -wish you was goin' to meet a man that wasn't sech a dead-shot. I seed -Jeff knock a squirrel out of a high tree with his six-shooter that three -men had missed with rifles." - -"I'll try to take care of myself, Mel. But you'd better hurry up and get -to him before he starts to town." - -"Oh, I'll git 'im all right," said the farmer, and he went out to the -hitching-rack, mounted his horse, and galloped away. - -The group Jones had been talking to now drew near. - -"It's all off, boys!" Pole said, with one of his inscrutable laughs. -"Explanations an' apologies has been exchanged--no gore to-day. Big -mistake, anyway, all round. Big, big blunder." - -This version soon spread, and a sigh of relief went up from all sides. -Fifteen minutes passed. Pole was standing in the front-door of the -store, cautiously watching Floyd, who had gone back to his desk to write -a letter. Suddenly the farmer missed him from his place. - -"He's tryin' to give me the slip," Pole said. "He's gone out at the -back-door and has made fer the spring. Well, he kin _think_ he's throwed -old Pole off, but he hain't by a jugful. I know now which road Jeff Wade -will come by, an' I'll see 'im fust ur no prayers hain't answered." - -He went out to the hitching-rack, mounted, and, waving his hand to the -few bystanders who were eying him curiously, he rode away, his long legs -swinging back and forth from the flanks of his horse. A quarter of a -mile outside of the village he came to a portion of the road leading to -Jeff Wade's house that was densely shaded, and there he drew rein and -dismounted. - -"Thar hain't no other way fer 'im to come," he said, "an' I'm his meat -or he is mine--that is, unless the dem fool kin be fetched to reason." - - - - -VIII - - -THERE was a quilting-party at Porter's that day. Cynthia had invited -some of her friends to help her, and the quilt, a big square of colored -scraps, more or less artistically arranged in stars, crescents, and -floral wreaths, occupied the centre of the sitting-room. It was stitched -to a frame made of four smooth wooden bars which were held together at -the corners by pegs driven into gimlet-holes and which rested on the -backs of four chairs. The workers sat on two sides of it, and stitched -with upward and downward strokes, towards the centre, the quilt being -rolled up as the work progressed. - -Hattie Mayhew was there, and Kitty Welborn, and two or three others. As -usual, they were teasing Cynthia about the young preacher. - -"I know he's dead in love," laughed Kitty Welborn. "He really can't -keep from looking at her during preaching. I noticed it particularly -one Sunday not long ago, and told Matt Digby that I'd be sure to get -religion if a man bored it into me with big, sad eyes like his." - -"I certainly would go up to the mourners' bench every time he called -for repentant sinners," said Hattie Mayhew. "I went up once while he was -exhorting, and he didn't even take my hand. He turned me over to Sister -Perdue, that snaggletoothed old maid who always passes the wine at -sacrament, and that done me." - -Cynthia said nothing, but she smiled good-naturedly as she rose from -her chair and went to the side of the quilt near the crudely screened -fireplace to see that the work was rolled evenly on the frame. While -thus engaged, her father came into the room, vigorously fanning himself -with his old slouch hat. The girls knew he had been to the village, and -all asked eagerly if he had brought them any letters. - -"No, I clean forgot to go to the office," he made slow answer, as he -threw himself into a big armchair with a raw-hide bottom near a window -on the shaded side of the house. - -"Why, father," his daughter chided him, "you promised the girls -faithfully to call at the office. I think that was very neglectful of -you when you knew they would be here to dinner." - -"And he usually has a good memory," spoke up Mrs. Porter, appearing in -the door-way leading to the dining-room and kitchen. She was rolling -flakes of dough from her lank hands, and glanced at her husband -reprovingly. "Nathan, what _did_ you go and do that way for, when you -knew Cynthia was trying to make her friends pass a pleasant day?" - -"Well, I clean forgot it," Porter said, quite undisturbed. "To tell -you the truth, thar was so much excitement on all hands, with this un -runnin' in with fresh news, an' another sayin' that maybe it was all a -false alarm, that the post-office plumb slipped out o' my head. Huh! I -hain't thought post-office once sense I left here. I don't know whether -I could 'a' got waited on, anyway, fer the postmaster hisse'f was -runnin' round outside like a chicken with its head chopped off. Besides, -I tell you, gals, I made up my mind to hit the grit. I never was much of -a hand to want to see wholesale bloodshed. Moreover, I've heard of many -a spectator a-gittin' shot in the arms an' legs or some vital spot. -No, I sorter thought I'd come on. Mandy, have you seed anything o' my -fly-flap? When company's here you an' Cynthia jest try yoreselves on -seein' how many things you kin stuff in cracks an' out-o'-way places. -I'm gittin' sick an' tired o'--" - -"Nathan, what's going on in town?" broke in Mrs. Porter. "What are you -talking about?" - -"I don't know what's goin' on _now_," Porter drawled out, as he slapped -at a fly on his bald pate with an angry hand. "I say I don't know what's -goin' on right at this minute, but I know what was jest gittin' ready to -go on when I skipped. I reckon the coroner's goin' on with the inquest -ef he ain't afeared of an ambush. Jeff Wade--" Porter suddenly bethought -himself of something, and he rose, passed through the composite -and palpable stare of the whole room, and went to the clock on the -mantel-piece and opened it. "Thar!" he said, impatiently. "I wonder what -hole you-uns have stuck my chawin'-tobacco in. I put it in the corner of -this clock, right under the turpentine-bottle." - -"There's your fool tobacco," Mrs. Porter exclaimed, running forward and -taking the dark plug from beneath the clock. "Fill your mouth with it, -maybe it will unlock your jaw. What is the trouble at Springtown?" - -"I was jest startin' to tell you," said Porter, diving into his -capacious trousers-pocket for his knife, and slowly opening the blade -with his long thumb-nail. "You see, Jeff Wade has at last got wind o' -all that gab about Minnie an' Nelson Floyd, an' he sent a war-cry by -Pole Baker on hoss-back as fast as Pole could clip it to tell Floyd to -arm an' be ready at exactly twelve o'clock, sharp." - -"I knew it would come," said Mrs. Porter, a combination of finality and -resignation in her harsh voice. "I knew Jeff Wade wasn't going to -allow that to go on." She was looking at her daughter, who, white and -wide-eyed, stood motionless behind Hattie Mayhew's chair. For a moment -no one spoke, though instinctively the general glance went to Cynthia, -who, feeling it, turned to the window looking out upon the porch, and -stood with her back to the room. Mrs. Porter broke the silence, her -words directed to her daughter. - -"Jeff Wade will kill that man if he was fool enough to wait and meet -him. Do you think Floyd waited, Nathan?" - -"No, he didn't wait," was Porter's answer. "The plucky chap went 'im one -better. He sent word by Mel Jones to Wade that it would be indecent to -have a rumpus like that in town on a Saturday, when so many women an' -childem was settin' round in bullet-range, an' so if it was agreeable -he'd ruther have it in the open place at Price's Spring. Mel passed me -as he was goin' to Jeff with that word. It's nearly one o'clock now, an' -it's my candid opinion publicly expressed that Nelson Floyd has gone -to meet a higher power. I didn't want to be hauled up at court as a -witness, an' so, as I say, I hit the grit. I've been tied up in other -folks's matters before this, an' the court don't allow enough fer -witness-fees to tempt me to set an' listen to them long-winded lawyers -talk fer a whole week on a stretch." - -"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Hattie Mayhew. "I'm right sorry for him. He was -so handsome and sweet-natured. He had faults and bad ones, if what folks -say is true, but they may have been due to the hard life he had when -he was a child. I must say I have always been sorry for him; he had the -saddest look about the eyes of any human being I ever saw." - -"And he knew how to use his eyes, too," was the sting Mrs. Porter added -to this charitable comment, while her sharp gaze still rested on her -daughter. - -There was a sound at the window. Cynthia, with unsteady hands, was -trying to raise the sash. She finally succeeded in doing this, and in -placing the wooden prop under it. There was a steely look in her eyes -and her features were rigidly set, her face pale. - -"It's very warm in here," they heard her say. "There isn't a bit of -draught in this room. It's that hot cook-stove. Mother, I will--I--" - -She turned and walked from the room. Mrs. Porter sighed, as she nodded -knowingly and looked after the departing form. - -"Did you notice her face, girls?" she asked. "It was as white as death -itself. She looked as if she was about to faint. It's all this talk -about Floyd. Well, they _were_ sort of friends. I tried to get her to -stop receiving his attentions, but she thought she knew better. Well, he -has got his deserts, I reckon." - -"And all on account of that silly Minnie Wade," cried Kitty Welborn, -"when you know, as well as I do, Mrs. Porter, that Thad Pelham--" The -speaker glanced at Nathan Porter, and paused. - -"Oh, you needn't let up on yore hen-cackle on my account," that blunt -worthy made haste to say. "I'll go out an' look at my new hogs. You gals -are out fer a day o' pleasure, an' I wouldn't interfere with the workin' -of yore jaws fer a purty." - -Mrs. Porter didn't remain to hear Kitty Welborn finish her observation, -but followed her daughter. In the dining-room, adjoining, an old woman -sat at a window. She was dressed in dingy black calico, her snowy -hair brushed smoothly down over a white, deeply wrinkled brow, and was -fanning herself feebly with a turkey-feather fan. She had Mrs. Porter's -features and thinness of frames. - -"Mother," Mrs. Porter said, pausing before her, "didn't Cynthia come in -here just now?" - -"Yes, she did," replied the old woman, sharply. "She _did_. And I just -want to know, Mandy, what you all have been saying to her in there. I -want to know, I say." - -"We haven't been saying anything to her, as I know of," said the -farmer's wife, in slow, studious surprise. - -"I know you have--I say, I know you _have!_" The withered hand holding -the fan quivered in excitement. "I know you have; I can always tell when -that poor child is worried. I heard a little of it, too, but not all. I -heard them mention Hillhouse's name. I tell you, I am not going to sit -still and let a whole pack of addle-pated women tease as good a girl as -Cynthia is plumb to death." - -"I don't think they were troubling her," Mrs. Porter said, her face -drawn in thought, her mind elsewhere. - -"I know they _were!_" the old woman insisted. "She may have hidden it -in there before you all, but when she came in here just now she stopped -right near me and looked me full in the face, and never since she was a -little baby have I seen such an odd look in her eyes. She was about to -cry. She saw me looking at her, and she come up behind me and laid her -face down against my neck. She quivered all over, and then she said, -'Oh, granny! oh, granny!' and then she straightened up and went right -out at that door into the yard. I tell you, it's got to let up. She -sha'n't have the life devilled out of her. If she don't want to marry -that preacher, she don't have to. As for me, I'd rather have married any -sort of man on earth when I was young than a long-legged, straight-faced -preacher." - -"You say she went out in the yard?" said Mrs. Porter, absently. "I -wonder what she went out there for." - -Mrs. Porter went to the door and looked out. There was a clothes-line -stretched between two apple-trees near by, and Cynthia stood at it -taking down a table-cloth. She turned with it in her arms and came to -her mother. - -"I just remembered," she said, "that there isn't a clean cloth for the -table. Mother, the iron is hot on the stove. You go back to the girls -and I'll smooth this out and set the table." - -The eyes of the two met. Mrs. Porter took a deep breath. "All right," -she said. "I'll go back to the company, but I've got something to say, -and then I'm done for good. I want to say that I'm glad a daughter of -mine has got the proper pride and spunk you have. I see you are not -going to make a goose of yourself before visitors, and I'm proud of you. -You are the right sort--especially after he's acted in the scandalous -way he has, and--and laid you, even as good a girl as you, liable to be -talked about for keeping company with him." - -The girl's eyes sank. Something seemed to rise and struggle up within -her, for her breast heaved and her shoulders quivered convulsively. - -"I'll fix the cloth," she said, in a low, forced voice, "and then I'll -set the table and call you." - -"All right." Mrs. Porter was turning away. "I'll try to keep them -entertained till you come back." - - - - -IX - - -BENEATH a big oak Pole stood holding his bridle-rein and waiting, his -earnest gaze on the long road leading to Jeff Wade's farm. Suddenly he -descried a cloud of dust far ahead, and chuckled. - -"He's certainly on time," he mused. "He must 'a' had his hoss already -hitched out in the thicket. Mel made good time, too. The dern scamp -wants to see bloodshed. Mel's that sort. By gum! that hain't Wade; it's -Mel hisse'f, an' he's certainly layin' the lash to his animal." - -In a gallop, Jones bore down on him, riding as recklessly as a cowboy, -his broad hat in one hand, a heavy switch in the other. He drew rein -when he recognized Baker. - -"Did you deliver that message?" Pole questioned. - -"Oh yes, I finally got him alone; his wife seems to suspicion some'n, -and she stuck to 'im like a leech. She's a jealous woman, Pole, an' I -don't know but what she kinder thought Jeff was up to some o' his old -shines. She's in a family-way, an' a little more cranky than common. He -was a sorter tough nut before he married, you know, an' a man like that -will do to watch." - -"Well, what did he say?" Pole asked, as indifferently as his impatience -would allow. - -"Why, he said, 'All hunkeydory.' The spring plan ketched him jest right. -He said that _one_ thing--o' bloodyin' up the main street in town--had -bothered him more than anything else. He admired it in Floyd, too. Jeff -said: 'By gum! fer a town dude, that feller's got more backbone than I -expected.. He's a foe wuth meetin', an' I reckon killin' 'im won't be -sech a terrible disgrace as I was afeard it mought be.'" - -"But whar are you headin' fer in sech a rush?" Pole asked. - -Jones laughed slyly as he put his hat carefully on his shaggy head and -pressed the broad brims up on the sides and to a point in front. "Why, -Pole," he answered, "to tell you the truth, I am headed fer that thar -spring. I'm goin' to acknowledge to you that, as long as I've lived in -this world, I hain't never been on hand at a shootin'-scrape. Mighty -nigh every man I know has seed oodlin's of 'em, but my luck's been agin -me. I was too young to be in the war, an' about the most excitin' thing -I ever attended was a chicken-fight, and so I determined to see this -through. I know a big rock jest above the spring, and I'm a-goin' to git -thar in plenty o' time. You let me git kivered all but my eyes, an' I'll -run the resk o' gettin' hit from thar up. Whar _you_ makin' fer, Pole?" - -"Me? Oh, I'm on the way home, Mel. I seed the biggest rattlesnake run -across this road jest now I ever laid eyes on. I got down to settle his -hash, but I didn't have anything to hit 'im with, an' I'm done stompin' -on them fellers sence Tobe Baker, my cousin, over at Hillbend, got -bliffed in the knee-j'int." - -"Well, so long," Jones laughed. "I'll hunt rattlesnakes some other time. -Are you plumb shore you hain't got the jimmies ag'in, Pole? Take my -advice an' don't tell anybody about seein' snakes; it sets folks to -thinkin'. Why, I seed you once in broad daylight when you swore black -spiders was playin' sweepstakes on yore shirt-front." - -"So long, Mel," Pole smiled. He made a fair pretence at getting ready to -mount as Jones galloped away in a cloud of dust. The rider was scarcely -out of sight when a pair of fine black horses drawing a buggy came into -view. The vehicle contained Captain Duncan and his daughter Evelyn. She -was a delicate, rather pretty girl of nineteen or twenty, and she nodded -haughtily to Pole as her father stopped his horses. - -"You are sure that thing's off, are you, Baker?" the planter said, with -a genial smile. - -"Oh yes, captain." Pole had his eyes on the young lady and had taken off -his hat, and stood awkwardly swinging it against the baggy knees of his -rough trousers. - -"Well, I'm very glad," Duncan said. "I heard you'd told some of the -crowd back at the store that it had been settled, but I didn't know -whether the report was reliable or not." - -Pole's glance shifted between plain truth and Evelyn Duncan's refined -face for a moment, and then he nodded. "Oh yes, it was all a mistake, -captain. Reports get out, you know; and nothin' hain't as bad as gossip -is after it's crawled through a hundred mouths an' over a hundred -envious tongues." - -"Well, I'm glad, as I say," the planter said, and he jerked his reins -and spoke to his horses. - -As he whirled away, Pole growled. "Derned ef I hain't a-makin' a regular -sign-post out o' myself," he mused, "an' lyin' to beat the Dutch. Ef -that blasted fool don't hurry on purty soon I'll--but thar he is now, -comin' on with a swoop. His hoss is about to run from under 'im, his dem -legs is so long. Now, looky' here, Pole Baker, Esquire, hog-thief -an' liar, you are up agin about the most serious proposition you ever -tackled, an' ef you don't mind what you are about you'll have cold feet -inside o' ten minutes by the clock. You've set in to carry this thing -through or die in the attempt, an' time's precious. The fust thing is -to stop the blamed whelp; you cayn't reason with a man that's flyin' -through the air like he's shot out of a gun, an' Jeff Wade's a-goin' to -be the devil to halt. He's got the smell o' blood, an' that works on a -mad man jest like it does on a bloodhound--he's a-goin' to run some'n -down. The only thing in God's world that'll stop a man in that fix is to -insult 'im, an' I reckon I'll have that to do in this case." - -Jeff Wade was riding rapidly. Just before he reached Pole he drew out -his big, silver, open-faced watch and looked at it. He wore no coat and -had on a gray flannel-shirt, open at the neck. Round his waist he wore -a wide leather belt, from which, on his right side, protruded the -glittering butt of a revolver of unusual size and length of barrel. -Suddenly Pole led his own horse round until the animal stood directly -across the narrow road, rendering it impossible for the approaching -rider to pass at the speed he was going. - -"Hold on thar, Jeff!" Pole held up his hand. "Whar away? The mail-hack -hain't in yet. I've jest left town." - -"I hain't goin' after no mail!" Wade said, his lips tight, a fixed stare -in his big, earnest eyes. "I'm headed fer Price's Spring. I'm goin' -to put a few holes in that thar Nelson Floyd, ef I git the drap on him -'fore he does on me." - -"Huh!" Pole ejaculated; "no, you hain't a-goin' to see him, nuther--that -is, not till me'n you've had a talk, Jeff Wade. You seem in a hurry, but -thar's a matter betwixt me an' you that's got to be attended to." - -"What the hell d' you mean?" Wade demanded, a stare of irritated -astonishment dawning in his eyes. - -"Why, I mean that Nelson Floyd is a friend o' mine, an' he ain't a-goin' -to be shot down like a dog by a man that could hit a nickel a hundred -yards away nine times out o' ten. You an' me's face to face, an' I -reckon chances 'ud be somewhar about equal. I hain't a brag shot, but I -could hit a pouch as big as yourn is, at close range, about as easy as -you could me." - -"You--you--by God! do you mean to take this matter up?" - -Jeff Wade slid off his horse and stood facing Pole. - -"Yes, I do, Jeff--that is, unless you'll listen to common-sense. That's -what I'm here fer. I'm a-goin' to stuff reason into you ef I have to -make a hole to put it in at. You are a-goin' entirely too fast to live -in an enlightened Christian age, an' I'm here to call a halt. I've -got some things to tell you. They are a-goin' to hurt like pullin' -eye-teeth, an' you may draw yore gun before I'm through, but I'm goin' -to make a try at it." - -"What the hell do you--" - -"Hold on, hold on, hold on, Jeff!" Pole raised a warning hand. "Keep -that paw off'n that cannon in yore belt or thar'll be a war right here -before you hear my proclamation of the terms we kin both live under. -Jeff, I am yore neighbor an' friend I love you mighty nigh like a -brother, but I'm here to tell you that, with all yore grit an' good -qualities, you are makin' a bellowin' jackass o' yourself. An' ef I let -you put through yore present plans, you'll weep in repentance fer it -till you are let down in yore soggy grave. Thar's two sides to every -question, an' you are lookin' only at yore side o' this un. You cayn't -tell how sorry I am about havin' to take this step. I've been a friend -to yore entire family--to yore brothers, an' yore old daddy, when he was -alive. I mighty nigh swore a lie down in Atlanta to keep _him_ out o' -limbo, when he was arrested fer moon-shinin'." - -"I know all that!" growled Wade; "but, damn it, you--" - -"Hold yore taters, now, an' listen. You mought as well take yore mind -off'n that spring. You hain't a-goin' to git at Nelson Floyd without you -walk over my dead body--an' thar's no efs an' an's about that. You try -to mount that hoss, an' I'll kill you ef it's in my power. I say I've -got some'n to tell you that you'll wish you'd listened to. I know some'n -about Minnie that will put a new color on this whole nasty business; an' -when you know it, ef you kill Nelson Floyd in cold blood the law will -jerk that stiff neck o' your'n--jerk it till it's limber." - -"You say you know some'n about Minnie?" The gaunt hand which till now -had hovered over the butt of the big revolver hung straight down. Wade -stood staring, his lip hanging loose, a sudden droop of indecision upon -him. - -"I know this much, Jeff," Pole said, less sharply, "I know you are -not on the track o' the fust offender in that matter, an' when I prove -_that_ to you I don't believe you'll look at it the same." - -"You say--you say--" - -"Listen now, Jeff, an' don't fly off the handle at a well-wisher sayin' -what he thinks has to be said in justice to all concerned. The truth is, -you never seed Minnie like other folks has all along. You seed 'er grow -up an' she was yore pet. To you she was a regular angel, but other -folks has knowed all along, Jeff, that she was born with a sorter light -nature. Women folks, with the'r keen eyes, has knowed that ever since -she got out o' short dresses. Even yore own wife has said behind yore -back a heap on this line that she was afeard to say to your face. Not -a soul has dared to talk plain to you, an' even _I_ wouldn't do it now -except in this case o' life an' death." - -Wade shook back his long, coarse hair. He was panting like a tired dog. -"I don't believe a damn word of what you are a-sayin," he muttered, "an' -I'll make you prove it, by God, or I'll have yore lifeblood!" - -"Listen to me, Jeff," Pole said, gently. "I'm not goin' to threaten any -more. Believe me or not, _but listen_. You remember when Thad Pelham -went off to Mexico a year or so ago?" - -Wade made no reply, but there was a look of groping comprehension in his -great, blearing eyes. - -"I see you remember that," Pole went on. "Well, you know, too, that he -was goin' with Minnie a lot about that time--takin' her buggy-ridin' an' -to meet-in'. He was a devil in pants, Jeff--his whole family was bad. -The men in it would refuse the last call to go in at the gate o' heaven -ef a designin' woman was winkin' at 'em on the outside. Well, Thad -started fer Mexico one day, an' at the same time Minnie went on a visit -to yore brother Joe in Calhoun." - -"She went thar a year ago," Wade put in, "fer I bought 'er ticket myself -at Darley." - -"She told _you_ she went to Calhoun." Pole's eyes were mercifully -averted. "Jeff, I met her an' Thad down in Atlanta." - -Wade caught his breath. He shook from head to foot as with a chill. - -"You say--Pole, you say--" - -"Yes, I met 'em comin' out o' the Globe Hotel--that little resort jest -off'n Decatur Street. They was comin' out o' the side-door, an' me an' -them met face to face. Minnie, she turned as white as a sheet, but Thad -sorter laughed like it was a good joke, an' winked at me. I bowed to 'em -an' passed on, but I seed 'em lookin' back, an' then they motioned to me -to stop, an' they come to me. Minnie set in to cryin' an' begun tellin' -me not to take the news back home--that her an' Thad loved each other -so much she jest _had_ to play the trick on you an' go as fur as Atlanta -with 'im. She said he was comin' back after he got located, an' that -they was goin' to git decently married an' so on. An' that devilish -Thad smiled an' sorter pulled his cheek down from his left eye an' said, -'Yes, Pole, we are a-goin' to git married. That is, when the proper -times comes.'" - -A sigh escaped Jeff Wade's tense lips. - -"Are you plumb shore the two done wrong down thar, Baker?" he asked. - -Pole pulled his mustache and looked at the ground. A smile dawned and -died on his face. - -"Well, I reckon they wasn't down thar to attend a Sunday-school -convention, Jeff. They didn't have that look to me. But I was so worried -fer fear I mought be doin' a woman injustice in my mind, that, after -they left me, to make sure, I went in the office o' the hotel. The clerk -was standin' thar doin' nothin', an' so I axed 'im who that young couple -was that had jest gone out, an' he laughed an' said they was a newly -married pair from up in the mountains--'Mr. an' Mrs. Sam Buncombe,' an' -he showed me whar Thad had writ the names in his scrawlin' hand-write -on the book. The clerk said that fer a freshly linked couple they headed -off any he'd ever had in his bridal-chamber. He said they was orderin' -some sort o' drink every minute in the day, an' that they made so much -racket overhead that he had to stop 'em several times. He said -they danced jigs an' sung nigger songs. He said he'd never married -hisse'f--that he'd always been afeard to make the riffle, but that ef -he could be shore matrimony was like that, that he'd find him a consort -'fore sundown or break his neck tryin'." - -Suddenly Wade put out his hand and laid it heavily on Pole's shoulder. -"Looky' here, Baker," he said, "if you are lying to me, I--" - -"Hold on, _hold on_, Jeff Wade!" Pole broke in sternly. "When you use -words like them don't you look serious! So fur, this has been a friendly -talk, man to man, as I see it; but you begin to intimate that I'm -a liar, an' I'll try my best to make you chaw the statement. You're -excited, but you must watch whar yore a-walkin'." - -"Well, I want the truth, by God, _I want the truth!_" - -"Well, you are a-gittin' it, with the measure runnin' over," Pole said, -"an' that ought to satisfy any reasonable man." - -"So you think, then, that Nelson Floyd never done any--any o' the things -folks says he did--that trip to the circus at Darley, when Minnie said -she was stayin' all night with the Halsey gals over the mountains--that -was just report?" - -"Well, I ain't here to say that, _nuther_," said Pole, most -diplomatically. "Nelson Floyd ain't any more'n human, Jeff. His wings -hain't sprouted--at least, they ain't big enough to show through his -clothes. He's like you used to be before you married an' quit the turf, -only--ef I'm any judge--you was a hundred times wuss. Ef all the men -concerned in this county was after you like you are after Nelson Floyd, -they'd be on yore track wuss'n a pack o' yelpin' wolves." - -"Oh, hell! let up on me an' what I've done! I kin take care o' myself," -Wade snarled. - -"All right, Jeff," Pole laughed. "I was only drappin' them hints on my -way to my point. Well, Minnie she come back from Atlanta, an' fer three -whole days she looked to me like she missed Thad, but she got to goin' -with the Thornton boys, an' then Nelson Floyd run across her track. I -ain't here to make excuses fer 'im, but she was every bit as much to -blame as he was. He's been around some, an' has enough sense to git -in out o' the rain, an' I reckon he had his fun, or he wouldn't be -a-settin' at Price's Spring waitin' to meet death at the end o' that gun -o' yourn." - -Jeff Wade turned an undecided, wavering glance upon the towering -mountain on his right. He drew a deep breath and seemed about to speak, -but checked himself. - -"But la me! what a stark, ravin' fool you was about to make o' yoreself, -Jeff!" Pole went on. "You started to do this thing to-day on yore -sister's account, when by doin' it you would bust up her home an' make -the rest of her life miserable." - -"You mean--" - -"I mean that Joe Mitchell, that's been dead-stuck on Minnie sence she -was a little gal, set up to her an' proposed marriage. They got engaged, -an' then every old snaggle-toothed busybody in these mountains set in to -try to bust it up by totin' tales about Floyd an' others to 'im. As fast -as one would come, Minnie'd kill it, an' show Joe what a foolish thing -it was to listen to gossip, an' Joe finally told 'em all to go to hell, -an' they was married, an' moved on his farm in Texas. From all accounts, -they are doin' well an' are happy, but, la me! they wouldn't be that -away long ef you'd 'a' shot Nelson Floyd this mornin'." - -"You say they wouldn't, Pole?" - -"Huh, I reckon _you_ wouldn't dance a jig an' sing hallelujah ef you was -to pick up a newspaper this mornin' an' read in type a foot long that -yore wife's brother, in another state, had laid a man out stiff as a -board fer some'n' that had tuck place sometime back betwixt the man an' -her." - -"Huh!" Wade's glance was now on Pole's face. "Huh, I reckon you are -right, Pole. I reckon you are right. I wasn't thinkin' about that." - -"Thar was _another_ duty you wasn't a-thinkin' about, too," Pole said. -"An' that is yore duty to yore wife an' childern that would be throwed -helpless on the world ef this thing had 'a' tuck place to-day." - -"Well, I don't see _that_, anyway," said Wade, dejectedly. - -"Well, I do, Jeff. You see, ef you'd 'a' gone on an' killed Floyd, -after I halted you, I'd 'a' been a witness agin you, an' I'd 'a' had to -testify that I told you, in so many words, whar the _rale_ blame laid, -an' no jury alive would 'a' spared yore neck." - -"I reckon that's so," Wade admitted. "Well, I guess I'll go back, Pole; -I won't go any furder with it. I promise you not to molest that scamp. -I'll not trade any more at his shebang, an' I'll avoid 'im all I kin, -but I'll not kill 'im as I intended." - -"Now you're a-talkin' with a clear head an' a clean tongue." Pole drew a -breath of relief, and stood silent as Wade pulled his horse around, put -his foot into the heavy, wooden stirrup, and mounted. Pole said nothing -until Wade had slowly ridden several paces homeward, then he called out -to him and beckoned him back, going to meet him, leading his horse. - -"I jest thought o' some'n' else, Jeff--some'n' I want to say fer myself. -I reckon I won't sleep sound to-night or think of anything the rest o' -the day ef I don't git it off my mind." - -"What's that, Pole?" - -"Why, I don't feel right about callin' you to halt so rough jest now, -an' talkin' about shootin' holes in you an' the like, fer I hain't -nothin' agin you, Jeff. In fact, I'm yore friend now more than I ever -was in all my life. I feel fer you _way down inside o' me_. That look on -yore face cuts me as keen as a knife. I--I reckon, Jeff, you sorter feel -like--like yore little sister's dead, don't you?" - -The rough face looking down from the horse filled. "Like she was dead -an' buried, Pole," Wade answered. - -"Well, Jeff"--Pole's voice was husky--"don't you ever think o' what -I said awhile ago about shootin'. Jeff, I jest did that to git yore -attention. You mought a-blazed away at me, but I'll be danged ef I -believe I could 'a' cocked or pulled trigger on you to 'a' saved my soul -from hell." - -"Same here, old neighbor," said Wade, as he wiped his eyes on his -shirt-sleeve. "I wouldn't 'a' tuck them words from no other man on the -face o' God's green globe." - -When Wade had ridden slowly away, Pole mounted his own horse. - -"Now I'll go tell Nelson that the danger is over," he said. Suddenly, -however, he reined his horse in and sat looking thoughtfully at the -ground. - -"No, I won't," he finally decided. "He kin set thar an' wonder what's -up. It won't hurt him to be in doubt, dab blame his hot-blooded skin. -Thar I was in a hair's-breadth of eternity, about to leave a sweet wife -an' kids to starvation an' tumble in a bloody grave, jest beca'se a rich -chap like he is had to have his dirty bout. No, Nelsy, my boy, you look -old Death in the eye fer awhile; it won't do you no harm. Maybe it'll -cool you off a little." - -And Pole Baker rode to the thicket where he had hidden his bag of -corn-meal that' morning and took it home. - - - - -X - - -HAT afternoon, for Cynthia Porter, dragged slowly along. The quilt was -finished, duly admired, and laid away. The visiting girls put on their -sun-bonnets about four o'clock and went home. No further news had come -from the village in regard to the impending duel, and each girl hurried -away in the fluttering hope that she would be the first to hear of the -outcome. - -Fifty times during the remainder of the afternoon Cynthia went to the -front-door to see if any one was passing from whom she might hear what -had happened, but the road leading by the house was not a main-travelled -one, and she saw only the shadows fall in advance of the long twilight -and heard the dismal lowing of the cows as they swaggered homeward from -the pasture. Then it was night, and with the darkness a great weight -descended on her young heart that nothing could lift. - -The simple supper was over by eight o'clock. Her father and mother -retired to their room, and she went, perforce, to hers. Outside -the still night, with its pitiless moonlight, seemed to be a vast, -breathless thing under the awful consciousness of tragedy, deeper than -the mere mystery of the grave. Dead! Nelson Floyd dead! How impossible a -thing it seemed, and yet how could it be otherwise? She threw herself -on her bed without undressing, and lay there staring at her flickering -tallow-dip and its yellow, beckoning ghost in her tilted mirror. -Suddenly she heard a step in the hall. It was a faint, shuffling one, -accompanied by the soft slurring of a hand cautiously sliding along -the wall. The girl sat up on the bed wonderingly, and then the door was -softly opened and her grandmother came in, and with bent form advanced -to her. - -"Sh!" the old woman said, raising a warning hand. "I don't want your ma -and pa to know I came here, darling. They wouldn't understand it. But I -had to come; I couldn't sleep." - -"Oh, granny, you oughtn't to be up this way!" exclaimed Cynthia. "You -know it is long past your bedtime." - -"I know that, honey, I know that," said the old woman; "but to be late -once in a while won't hurt me. Besides, as I said, I couldn't sleep, -anyway, and so I came in to you. I knew you were wide awake--I felt -that. You see, honey, your ma can't keep anything--even anything she -wants to be silent on has to come out, sooner or later, and I discovered -what was the matter with you this morning. You see, darling, knowing -what your trouble was, old granny felt that it was her duty to try to -comfort you all she could." - -"Oh, granny, granny!" cried the girl, covering her face with her hands. - -"The trouble is, I don't know what to say," continued the old woman; -"but I thought I'd tell you what pride will do sometimes, when anybody -calls in its aid. If--if what they all think is so--if the young man -_has_ really lost his life in--in a matter of such a questionable -nature, then your womanly pride ought to back you up considerably. I -have never alluded to it, Cynthia, for I haven't been much of a hand to -encourage ideas of superiority in one person over another, but away back -in the history of the Radcliffes and the Cuylers and the Prestons, who -were our kin in Virginia, I've been told that the women were beautiful, -and great belles in the society at Richmond, before and, after the -Revolution. Why, honey, I can remember my grandmother telling us -children about being at big balls and dinners where George Washington -was entertained, and lords and ladies of the old country. -I was too young to understand what it meant, but I remember she told us -about the great droves of negroes her father owned, and the carriages -and silver, and the big grants of land from the king to him. One of her -uncles was a royal governor, whose wife was a lady of high title. I was -talking to Colonel Price about a month ago at the veteran's meeting at -Cohutta Springs, and he said he had run across a family history about -the Radcliffes where it said all of them came down from the crowned -heads of England. I believe he was right, putting all I remember to -what he said, and, lying in bed just now, it struck me that maybe one -of those ladies away back there would not let a tear drop from her proud -eyes over--over a young man who had met with misfortune as a consequence -of bad conduct. Ever since you were a little girl I have been proud -of your looks, honey. You have fine, delicate features; your hands are -small and taper to the end of the fingers, and your ankles are slender -like a fine-blooded race-horse, and your feet have high insteps and -are pretty in shape. We are poor; we have been so such a long time that -almost all record of the old wealth and power has passed out of our -memory, but a few generations of poverty won't kill well-grounded pride -and dignity." - -"Oh, granny, granny, you needn't talk to me so," Cynthia said, calmly. -"I know what you mean, and you sha'n't be ashamed of me. I promise you -that." - -"I believe you, Cynthia, for you are showing self-respect right now. Go -to bed, dear, and take your mind off of it. I'm going now. Good-night." - -"Good-night, granny." Cynthia stood up, and with her arms around the -frail, bowed old woman, she tenderly kissed her on the brow and led her -to the door. - -"Pride!" she muttered, as the old woman's steps rang in the corridor. -"Pride is only a word. _This! this!_"--she struck her breast--"is my -soul under a knife. Why did I sit still while she was talking and not -tell her that he was _good--good_--as good a man as ever drew human -breath? Why didn't I tell her what Pole Baker's wife told me about his -carrying food at midnight on his shoulder (through the swamp, wet to his -waist) to her and the children, when Pole was off on a spree--making her -swear almost on a Bible that she never would tell? And why didn't I tell -her what Mrs. Baker said about his sitting down on the children's bed -when they were asleep and talking so beautifully about their futures, -and all the sadness of his own childhood and his anxiety to know who -and what he was? What if he _did_ meet that Minnie Wade, and she and -he--_Oh, my God!_" She stood staring at her pale face in her mirror, and -then tottered back to the bed and sank upon it, sitting erect, her tense -hands clutching her knees, as if for support against some invisible -torrent that was sweeping her away. "Dead--oh! and for _that_ -reason--he, Nelson Floyd!" - -Suddenly a sound fell on her ears. She sprang to her feet, straining -her hearing to catch a repetition of it, her eyes wide, the blood of -new life bounding in her veins. There it was again, the soft, mellow, -insistent call of the whippoorwill from down by the grape-arbor. For a -moment she stood still, crying to herself with an inward voice that had -no sound: "Alive! Alive! Alive!" Then blowing out her candle, she sprang -to the door of her chamber, and opened it, and passed on to the outer -one, that was never locked, and which opened on the front porch. But -there, with her hand on the knob, she paused, clutching it tightly, -but not turning the bolt. Alive; yes, alive, but why? how could it be -unless--unless he had killed Jeff Wade? Ah, that was it--red-handed, -and fleeing from the arm of the law of man and God, he had come to -say good-bye. A memory of her past determination never to meet him -clandestinely flashed through her brain, but it was like overhead -lightning that touches nothing, only warns man of its power and dies -away. She turned the bolt and passed out into the night, running, it -seemed, almost with the dragging feet of one in a nightmare, towards the -trysting-place. - -"Ah, here you are!" Nelson Floyd stood in the door-way of the little -arbor, his arms outstretched. She allowed him to catch her cold, -bloodless hands and lead her to the rustic seat within. - -They sat down together. She felt his strong arm encompass her but had -not the strength or will to resist. He pressed his cheek down on her -cold brow, then his lips, and clasped one of her hands with his big warm -one. Still she could not put him off. It was like a perplexing dream. -There was the horror, and yet here was vague reassurance that at once -inspired hope and benumbed her. - -"What's the matter, little girl?" he asked, tenderly. "I declare you are -quivering all over." - -She sat up. Pushing him back from her, and twisting her hand from his -grasp, she looked straight into his eyes. - -"Jeff Wade!" she gasped. "Jeff Wade!--have you--did you--" - -"Oh, I _see!_" he laughed, awkwardly. "I might have known you would -hear about that. But never mind, little girl, the whole of it was -gossip--there was nothing in it!" - -"You mean--oh, Nelson, you say that you and he did not--" - -"Not a bit of it," he laughed again, mechanically. "Everybody in town -this morning was declaring that Jeff Wade was going to kill me on sight, -but it wasn't true. I haven't seen him to-day." - -"Oh, Nelson, I heard that he'd actually killed you." - -"Killed me? Oh, that's a good joke!" he laughed. "But you must promise -me never again to pay any attention to such stuff. The idea! Why, -Cynthia, don't you know better than to believe everything that comes by -word of mouth in this section? I'll bet somebody started that who really -wanted me out of the way. I've got enemies, I know that." She drew -herself still farther from him, eying him half suspiciously through the -darkness. Her lips were parted; she was getting her breath rapidly, like -a feverish child. - -"But he was mad at you, I know that. You need not tell me an untruth." - -"A man is almost justifiable," he laughed, "when he wants to keep such -dirty stuff from young, refined ears like yours. Let's not talk of it -any more, little girl. Why spoil this delightful meeting with thoughts -of such things? You have no idea how much I've wanted to see you." - -"Then"--she put out her cold hand to the latticework and drew herself -up--"why did you whistle for me? You said you'd--you'd call me if -you--you really needed me badly." - -"Well, that's what I did to-night, I assure you," he laughed. "I felt -like I just _had_ to see you and talk with you. You see, I knew this -thing would finally get to you, and that you would worry and perhaps -lose sleep over it. I knew when you saw me with a whole skin and solid -bones that you'd--" - -"You flattered yourself that I'd care! Huh, I see! I suppose I'd hate to -see _any one_ shot down in cold blood at a moment's notice like that." - -He caught her hand and laughingly attempted to draw her to him again, -but she remained leaning against the door-frame. - -"You are not going to be mad at me," he said, pleadingly, "now, are -you?" - -"No, but I'm going into the house I told you I'd not meet you here after -all the others have gone to bed, when you whistled as you would to your -dog, and I want you to know I would not have come if I had not been -over-excited. Good-night." - -"Wait a moment. I really did want to see you particularly, Cynthia--to -make an engagement. The young folks are all going over to Pine Grove -next Sunday afternoon to attend meeting, and I want to take you in my -new buggy behind my Kentucky horse." - -"You couldn't wait till to-morrow to ask me," she said, interrogatively. - -"No, I couldn't wait till to-morrow, for that long, slim 'sky-pilot' -will run over before breakfast to ask you to go with him. I know that. -But can I count on you?" - -She hesitated for a moment, then she said, simply: "Yes, I'll go with -you; but I shall leave you now. Good-night." - -"Good-night, then. Well, I'll see you Sunday--I guess that will have to -do." - - - - -XI - - -FLOYD sat on the bench for more than an hour after she had left him. -His thoughts were of himself. He smoked two cigars moodily. The whole -day was retracing its active steps before his eyes, from the moment he -opened his ledger to do his morning's work till now that his naked soul -stood shivering in the darkness before him. His thoughts bounded from -one incident in his life to another, each leap ending in a shudder -of discontent. Cynthia's dignified restraint, and the memory of her -helpless, spasmodic leanings both to and from him, at once weighted him -down and thrilled him. Yes, his almost uncontrollable passion was his -chief fault. Would he ever be able to subdue it and reach his ideal of -manhood? Throwing his cigar away, he rose to leave. His watch told him -it was eleven. - -He did not go towards the house and out at the gate, but took a nearer -way through the orchard, reaching the rail-fence a hundred yards below -Porter's house. He had just climbed over and was detaching himself from -the detaining clutch of numerous blackberry briers, when he saw a head -and pair of shoulders rise from a near-by fence-corner. - -It was Pole Baker who advanced to him in astonishment. - -"By gum!" Pole ejaculated. "I come as nigh as pease lettin' a -pistol-shot fly at you. I was passin' an' heard some'n' in the orchard -an' 'lowed it mought be somebody try in' to rob Porter's sweet-potato -bed, an', by the holy Moses, it was you!" - -"Yes, it was me, Pole." - -The farmer's slow glance left Floyd's face and swept critically along -the fence to the white-posted gate in the distance. - -"Huh!" he said, and was silent, his eyes roving on to the orchard, where -his glance hovered in troubled perplexity. - -"Yes, I went to see Miss Cynthia," Floyd explained, after a pause. - -"Huh, you say you did! Well, I didn't see no light in the parlor when I -passed jest now'. I was particular to look, fer I've been everywhar to -find you, an' Porter's was the last place. By gum! I didn't think a chap -that had been kick'n' the clods o' the grave off'n 'im all day fer a -woman scrape 'ud run straight to another gal before he knowed whether -his hide was liable to remain solid or not." - -"I wanted to see Miss Cynthia," Floyd said, "to ask her to go to -bush-arbor meeting with me Sunday, and I didn't intend to let my affair -with Jeff Wade interfere with it." - -"Huh, that was it! an' that's why you are a-comin' out o' Nathan -Porter's orchard at eleven o'clock at night, is it?" - -Floyd gazed at his rough friend for an instant, just a touch of -irritability in his manner as he made answer: - -"Miss Cynthia and I were sitting in the grape arbor, behind the house. -She only stayed a minute or two. I sat there a long time after she went -in. I was smoking and was beastly tired." - -"I see, I see!" Pole was slightly mollified, but was still to be heard -from. - -"Now, let me tell you some'n', Nelson," he pursued. "Thar hain't no -flower that ever bloomed an' throwed out sweet smells that's as nice an' -purty as a pure young gal that's got good, honorable parents, an' the -reputation of a creature like that is more valuable in my sight than all -the gold an' diamonds on earth." - -"You certainly are right about that," Floyd agreed, coldly, for he was -secretly resenting Pole's implied warning. - -"Well, then," Baker said, even more sternly, "don't you climb out'n -Nathan Porter's orchard at this time o' night ag'in, when thar's a gate -with a latch an' hinges to it right before yore eyes. What ef you'd 'a' -been seed by some tattlin' busybody? You hain't got no more right to -run the risk--_the bare risk_, I say--o' castin' a stain on that little -gal's name than I have to set fire to yore store an' burn it to the -ground. The shack could be built up ag'in, but that fair name 'ud never -be the same ag'in." - -"You are thoroughly right, Pole," Floyd said, regretfully. "I can see -it now. But I'm rather sorry to see you throw it at a feller quite so -hard." - -"I reckon I'm sorter upset," the farmer said, half apologetically, as -they walked on. "I reckon it was my talk with Jeff Wade about his -sister that got me started. That's mighty nigh broke him all to pieces, -Nelson." - -"So you met Wade!" Floyd said, quickly. "I thought perhaps you stopped -him." - -"You thought I did? What made you think I did?" - -"Why, when I'd waited till about one o'clock," Floyd replied, "I started -out to Wade's, and--" - -"You say you started out thar?" - -"Yes, I knew he meant business, and I wanted it settled, one way or the -other, so that I could go back to work, or--" - -"Or turn yore toes to the sky, you fool!" - -"I started to say," Floyd went on, "that I knew something had interfered -with his coming, and--" - -"He'd 'a' shot seventeen holes in you or 'a' put seventeen balls in -one!" Pole cried, in high disgust. "I finally fixed him all right, but -he wasn't in no frame o' mind to have you come to his house an' rub it -in on 'im. However, you hain't told me what made you think I stopped -'im." - -"Why," said Floyd, "just as I was starting away from the spring, Mel -Jones came running down the hill. He'd been hiding behind a big rock up -there to see the affair, and was awfully disappointed. He begged me to -wait a little longer, and said he was sure Jeff would come on. Then he -told me he saw you in the road near Wade's house, and I understood the -whole thing. I guess I owe my life to you, Pole. It isn't worth much, -but I'm glad to have it, and I'd rather owe you for it than any one I -know. What did you say to Wade?" - -"Oh, I told 'im all I knowed about that little frisky piece, and opened -his eyes generally. It's all off, Nelson. He'll let you alone in the -future. He's badly broke up, but it's mostly over findin' out what the -gal was." - -They had reached the point where their ways separated, when they heard -several pistol-shots on the mountain road not far away, and prolonged -shouting. - -"White Caps," said Pole, succinctly. "They're out on another rampage. -Old Mrs. Snodgrass, by some hook or crook, generally gits on to the'r -plans an' comes over an' reports it to Sally. They are on the'r way now -to whip Sandy McHugh. They've got reliable proof that he stole Widow -Henry's pigs, an' they are goin' to make 'im a proposition. They are -a-goin' to give 'im his choice betwixt a sound whippin' an' reportin' -the matter to the grand jury. They want him to take the lickin' so he -kin stay on an' work fer his wife and childem. I reckon that's what -he'll decide to do. Sandy ain't in no shape to go to the penitentiary." - -"I guess he deserves punishment of some sort," said Floyd, abstractedly, -"though it's a pity to have our society regulated by a band of mountain -outlaws." - -"They certainly set matters straight over at Darley," Pole said. "They -broke up them nigger dives, an' made it safe fer white women to go to -prayer-meetin' at night. Say, Nelson, I'm sorter sorry I spoke so hard -back thar about that little gal's reputation, but the very thought o' -the slightest harm ever comin' to her runs me wild. I never have spoke -to you about it, but I tuck a deliberate oath once to protect 'er with -my life, ef necessary. You see, she's been more than a friend to me. -Last winter, while I was off on one o' my benders, little Billy got -sick. He had the croup an' come as nigh as pease dyin'; he could hardly -breathe. It was a awful night, rainin', snowin', sleetin', an' blowin'. -Sally left him long enough to run over to Porter's to beg somebody to -run fer Dr. Stone, an' Cynthia come to the door an' promised it ud be -done. She tried to git old Nathan up an' dressed, but he was so -slow about it--grumblin' all the time about women bein' scared at -nothin'--that Cynthia plunged out in the storm an' went them two miles -herself, an' fetched the doctor jest in the nick o' time. Then she -stayed thar the rest o' that night in 'er wet clothes, doin' ever'thing -she could to help, holdin' Billy in her arms, an' rockin' 'im back an' -forth, while I was--by God, Nelson Floyd, I was lyin' under the table in -Asque's bar so drunk I didn't know my hat from a hole in the ground. -An' when I heard all about it afterwards, I tuck my oath. I was in the -stable feedin' my hoss; he heard all I said, Nelson, an' I'll be demed -ef I don't believe he understood it. I'm here to say that ef anybody -don't believe I'll put a ball in the man that dares to say one word agin -that little angel, all he's got to do is to try it! This is a hell of a -community fer idle talk, anyway, as you know from yore own experience, -an' ef any of it ever touches that gal's fair name I'll kill tatlers as -fast as they open the'r dirty mouths." - -"That's the way to look at it, Pole," Nelson Floyd said, as he turned -to go; "but you'll never have anything to fear in that direction. -Good-night." - -"Good-night, Nelson. I'll see you in the mornin'. I ought to 'a' been in -bed two hours ago." - - - - -XII - - -WELL I hear that Sandy McHugh tuck his whippin' like a little man last -night," Pole remarked to Captain Duncan and Floyd the next morning at the -store. "They say he made strong promises to reform, an', gentlemen, I'm -here to tell you that I believe them White Caps are doin' a purty -good work. The lickin' Sandy got last night from his neighbors an' -well-wishers towards him an' his family is a-goin' to work a bigger -change in him than a long trial at court at the state's expense." - -"Well, they say he confessed to the stealing," said the planter. "And a -thing like that certainly ought to be punished in some way." - -"I never stold but once in my life," Baker laughed, reminiscently, "an' -I was sorter drawed into that. I was goin' with a Tennessee drover down -to Atlanta with a car o' hosses. Old Uncle Abner Daniel was along, -an' me'n him always was sorter thick. We come to Big Shanty, whar the -conductor told us we'd barely have time to run out to the side o' the -road an' buy a snack to eat, an' me'n Uncle Ab made a dash fer the -lunch-counter, run by a bald-headed Dutchman with a bay-window on 'im. -Thar was a pile o' sandwiches on the counter marked ten cents apiece, -an' we bought two. I noticed Uncle Ab sorter twist his face around when -he looked in his'n, an' then I seed that the ham inside of 'em both -wasn't any thicker'n a piece o' paper. - -"'Look here, Pole' said Uncle Ab, 'I bought a _sandwich_; I didn't agree -to pay that fat thief ten cents o' my hard money fer two pieces o' bread -that don't even smell o' meat.' - -"'Well, what you goin' to do about it?' says I. - -"'Do about it?' says he, an' then he sorter winked, an' as the Dutchman -had turned to his stove whar he was fryin' some eggs, Uncle Ab stuck out -his long fingers an slid a slice o' ham out o' the top sandwich in the -stack an' slyly laid it betwixt his bread. I deprived the one under it -of all the substance it held, an' me'n Uncle Ab was munchin' away when -two passengers, a big man an' a little, sawed-off one, run up jest as -the whistle blowed. They throwed down the'r dimes an' grabbed the -two top sandwiches, an' we all made a break fer the train an' got in -together. The fellers set right behind me'n Uncle Ab, an' when they -begun to eat you never heard sech cussin'. 'Damn it, thar hain't a bit -o' ham in mine!' the big feller said; an' then the little 'un ripped out -an oath, an' reached up an' tried to git at the bell-cord. 'The damn -pot-gutted thief didn't even _grease_ mine,' he said, an' they both -raised windows an' looked back an' shook the'r fists an' swore they'd -kill that Dutchman the next time they seed 'im. - -"I thought I'd actually die laughin'. Uncle Ab set thar with the -straightest face you ever looked at, but his eyes was twinklin' like -stars peepin' through wet clouds. - -"Finally he said, 'Pole,' said he, 'this experience ort to teach us a -lesson. You cayn't down wrong with wrong. We started in to beat that -swindler at his game, an' ended up by robbin' two hungry an' honest -wayfarers.'" - -Floyd and Captain Duncan laughed. It seemed that there was a disposition -on the part of both Pole and the planter not to allude to the unpleasant -affair of the preceding day, though Floyd, in his sensitive attitude in -regard to it, more than once fancied it was in their minds. - -"There is a personal matter, Floyd," said Duncan, after a silence of -several minutes, "that I have been wanting to speak to you about. It is -in regard to your parentage. I've heard that you are greatly interested -in it and would like to have it cleared up." - -"I confess it, captain," Floyd said. "I suppose that is a feeling that -would be natural to any one placed as I am." - -"Most decidedly," Duncan agreed. "And it is my opinion that when you do -discover what you are looking for, it will all seem so simple and plain -that you will wonder how you could have missed it so long. I don't think -it is possible for a thing like that to remain hidden always." - -"It certainly has foiled me, captain," Floyd replied. "I have spent -more money and made more effort than you would dream of, but met with -disappointment on every hand." - -"Perhaps you didn't look close enough at home," said Duncan. "I confess -the thing has interested me a good deal, and the more I see of you, -and observe your pluck and courage, the more I would like to see you -discover what you want." - -"Thank you, captain," Floyd said, earnestly. - -"I'm going to confess something else, too," the planter went on, "now -that I see you don't resent my interest. The truth is, I had a talk with -Colonel Price about it. You know he understands more about genealogy and -family histories than any man in the county. I asked him if he didn't -think that your given name, 'Nelson,' might not tend to show that you -were, in some way, related to a family by that name. Price agreed with -me that it was likely, and then it flashed on me that I knew a man down -in Atlanta by the name of Floyd--Henry A. Floyd--whose mother was one of -the South Carolina Nelsons." - -"Is it possible?" the young merchant asked, leaning forward in almost -breathless interest. - -"Yes, and he is a man of good standing, but very unsuccessful -financially--a man who was educated for the law, and failed at it, -and now, I believe, lives only on the income from a big farm in Bartow -County. I knew him quite well when we were both young men; but he never -married, and of late years he seems soured against everybody. I met -him at the Capitol in Atlanta only last week, and tried to get him -interested in your family matter. At first, from his evident surprise -that there could be any one bearing both those names up here, I thought -he was going to reveal something that would aid you. But after asking me -three or four questions about you, he closed up, and that was the end of -it. He said he knew nothing of your parentage, but that he was sure you -were no kin of his." - -"Say, captain"--Pole Baker broke into the conversation--"would you mind -tellin' me right here what you told 'im about Nelson? I've seed the old -cuss; I've been on his farm; I once thought about rentin' land from 'im. -Did you tell 'im Nelson was a man of high standing here--that he was -about the richest young chap in the county an' got more grit than a -car-load o' sand-paper?" - -"No," Duncan laughed. "He didn't let me get that far, Baker. In hopes of -rousing his sympathy, I reckon I laid a good deal of stress on Floyd's -early misfortune. Of course, I was going to tell him all about you, -Floyd, but, as I say, he didn't give me a good chance." - -"You were quite right, captain," Floyd returned. "Pole would have made -me appear ridiculous." - -"Huh! I'd a got more out o' the old fossil than Captain Duncan did," -Pole declared, positively, "You knowed how to manage men in the war, -captain, an' you are purty good at bossin' an overseer when you are at a -hotel in Florida an' he's fillin' a sack in yore corn-crib at home, but -I'll bet my hat you didn't tackle that feller right. Knowing that he -was down in the mouth, unlucky, an' generally soured agin the world, I'd -never a-tried to git 'im interested in pore kin he'd never seed. I'll -bet a quart o' rye to two fingers o' spilt cider that he'd 'a' talked -out o' t'other side o' his mouth ef I'd a been thar to sorter show 'im -the kind o' kin that he mought scrape up ef he turned his hand to it. -You let me run agin that old skunk, an' I'll have him settin' up the -drinks an' axin' me more questions than a Dutchman l'arnin' to talk our -language. Shucks! I'm jest a mountain-scrub, but I know human natur'. -Thar comes old Mayhew. He'll order us out--it's treat, trade, or travel -with that old skunk." - - - - -XIII - - -HILLHOUSE had gone over to Porter's early that morning. He found Nathan -seated on the porch in his shirt-sleeves, his heavy shoes unlaced for -comfort and a hand-made cob-pipe in his mouth. "I want to see Miss -Cynthia a moment," the preacher said, with a touch of embarrassment as -he came in at the gate, his hat in hand. - -Old Porter rose with evident reluctance. "All right," he said. "I'll see -ef I kin find 'er--ef I do it will be the fust time I ever run across -her, or any other woman, when she was needed." - -He returned in a moment "She'll be out in a few minutes," he said. "She -told me to tell you to set down here on the porch." - -Hillhouse took a vacant seat, holding his hat daintily on his sharp -knees, and Porter resumed his chair, tilting it backward as he talked. - -"Ef you are ever unlucky enough to git married, parson," he said, -"you'll know more about women than you do now, an' at the same time -you'll swear you know less. They say the Maker of us all has unlimited -knowledge, but I'll be blamed ef I believe He could understand -women--even ef he _did_ create 'em. I'm done with the whole lot!" Porter -waved his hand, as if brushing aside something of an objectionable -nature. "They never do a thing that has common-sense in it. I believe -they are plumb crazy when it comes to tacklin' anything reasonable. I'll -give you a sample. Fer the last ten years I have noticed round about -here, that whenever a man died the women folks he left sent straight -to town an' bought a high-priced coffin to lay 'im away in. No matter -whether the skunk had left a dollar to his name or not, that Jew -undertaker over thar at Darley, to satisfy family pride, sent out a -coffin an' trimmin's to the amount of an even hundred dollars. I've -knowed widows an' orphans to stint an' starve an' go half naked fer ten -years to pay off a debt like that. Now, as I'm financially shaped, -I won't leave but powerful little, an' that one thing worried me -considerable. Now an' then I'd sorter spring the subject on my women, -an' I found out that they thought a big splurge like that was the only -decent way to act over a man's remains. Think o' the plumb foolishness, -parson, o' layin' a man away on a silk-plush cushion after he's dead, -when he's slept all his life on a common tick stuffed with corn-shucks -with the stubs on 'em. But that's _women!_ Well, I set to work to try to -beat 'em at the game, as fur as _I_ was concerned. I 'lowed ef I made my -preparations myself ahead o' time, with the clear understandin' that -I wanted it that away, why, that no reasonable person would, or could, -raise objections." - -"Oh, I see!" Hillhouse said, his mind evidently on something else. - -"Well, you may see--an' any other reasonable _man_ could--but you don't -see what them women done. - -"Well, to go on. I went down to Swinton's new mill, whar he was sawin' -out pine planks, an' set around all mornin', an' whenever I seed a solid -heart-plank run out, I'd nab it an' lay it aside. Then, when I'd got -enough to make me a good, roomy box, I axed 'im what the pile was wuth -an' got the lot at a bargain, beca'se times was dull an' I was on the -spot. Well, I hauled the planks home on my wagon an' unloaded at the -barn. The women, all three, come out like a lot o' hens peckin' around -an' begun to ax questions. They 'lowed I was goin' to make some shelves -fer the smoke-house, to lay hams an' shoulders on, an' they was powerful -tickled. I didn't let 'em know right then. But the next day when Jim -Long come with his hammer an' nails an' saw an' plane, an' stood me up -agin the wall in the woodshed, an' started to measure me up an' down an' -sideways, they begun to scream an' take on at a desperate rate. It was -the fust time I ever heard mournin' at my own funeral, an' it sorter -upset me; but I told Jim to go ahead, an' he did start, but, la me! The -whole lay-out run to 'im an' got around 'im an' threatened, an' went on -at sech a rate that he throwed up the job an' went home. I got mad an' -went off fishin', an' when I come back I found all o' them fine, new -planks split up into kindlin' fer the stove, an' it wasn't a week 'fore -my burial outfit was turned into ashes. I kin see now that when my time -comes my folks will rake an' scrape to git up money to put me in a box -so thin that a dead man could kick a hole in it." - -"They have their way of looking at such matters," the preacher ventured, -awkwardly. "Death is a serious thing, brother Porter, and it affects -most people deeply." - -"It hain't so serious on a cash basis as it is on a credit," Nathan -declared. "But thar Cynthia comes now." - -"I'm an early bird, Miss Cynthia." Hillhouse was actually flushed. "That -is, I don't mean to hint that you are a worm, you know; but the truth is, -I was afraid if I didn't come quick some hawk of a fellow would bear you -away to bush-arbor meeting next Sunday afternoon. Will you let me take -you?" - -Cynthia's face clouded over. "I'm very sorry," she said, "but I have -already promised some one else." - -"Oh, is that so?" Hillhouse could not disguise his disappointment. "Are -you going with--with--" - -"Mr. Floyd asked me," the girl answered, "and I told him I'd go. I'm -very sorry to disappoint you." - -"Why, Cynthia"--Mrs. Porter had approached and stood in the door-way, -staring perplexedly at her daughter--"you told me last night just before -you went to bed that you had no engagement for Sunday. Have you had a -note already this morning?" - -Cynthia, in some confusion, avoided her mother's sharp, probing look. - -"It doesn't matter," she said, lamely. "I've promised to go with Mr. -Floyd, and that is sufficient." - -"Oh yes, that is sufficient, of course," Hillhouse said, still under his -cloud of disappointment, "and I hope you will have a pleasant time. The -truth is, Floyd is hard to beat at anything. He has a way about him that -wins the--perhaps I may say--the sympathy of nearly all ladies." - -A reply of some sort was struggling for an outlet in Cynthia's rapidly -rising and falling bosom, but her mother forestalled her with tight lips -and eyes that were flashing ominously. - -"Brother Hillhouse," she said, "a man of that stamp has more influence -over girls of the present generation than any other kind. Let a man be -moral, religious, and sober, and thoughtful of the reputations of women, -and he is shoved aside for the sort of men who fight duels and break -hearts and ruin happy homes for their own idle gratification." - -"Oh, Mrs. Porter, I didn't mean to raise such a--a point as that," -Hillhouse stammered. "I'm sure Miss Cynthia appreciates all that is good -in humanity; in fact, I think she leans decidedly that way. I couldn't -expect her to let a little public gossip turn her against a friend whom -she believes in." - -"Thank you, Mr. Hillhouse," Cynthia said, drawing herself up to her full -height and turning to go in. "I appreciate the way you look at it." - -She went into the house, walking very straight and not looking back. - -Porter stood up and knocked the ashes from his pipe in his hard, broad -hand. "Do you see that thar gate, parson?" he laughed. "Well, you take a -fool's advice an' go home, an' come back some other time. Neither one o' -them women know what they are a-talkin' about, an' they'll have you as -crazy as they are in ten minutes ef you try to follow 'em." - -When Hillhouse had gone, Mrs. Porter went back into the sitting-room and -stood over Cynthia as the girl sat sewing at a window. - -"You may _think_ you've got my eyes closed," the old woman said, "but -you haven't. You didn't have any engagement with Nelson Floyd last night -at supper, and you either saw him after we went to bed or you have had a -secret note from him this morning." - -"Have it your own way," Cynthia said, indifferently, and hot with -vexation she bent her head over her work. - -"I was watching your face this morning, too," Mrs. Porter went on, "when -your pa came in and said that Wade did not meet Floyd at the spring, and -I noticed that you did not seem at all surprised. I'll get at the bottom -of this, now you see if I don't!" And white with suppressed anger, Mrs. -Porter turned away. - -As she went out Mrs. Radcliffe, with a tottering step, came into the -room and drew near to Cynthia. - -"I am worried about your mother," she said, standing with her thin hand -resting on the window-frame. "She troubles so much over small things. I -shudder when I think about it, Cynthia; but I'm afraid she'll go like -your aunt did. It seems to be inherited from your grandfather's side of -the family." - -"Are you really afraid of that, granny?" The girl looked up, a serious -expression dawning in her eyes. - -"Well, I don't know as I think she'd actually kill herself, as Martha -did, but if this goes on her mind certainly will give way. It's not -natural--it's too great a strain for one human brain to stand. She -didn't sleep a wink last night I know that, for I woke up several times -and heard her moving about and sighing." - -"Poor mamma!" Cynthia said, regretfully, to herself, as her grandmother -moved slowly from the room. "And I spoke disrespectfully to her -just now. Besides, perhaps I have given her cause to worry, from her -stand-point. God forgive me, I really _did_ go out to meet him that way, -and if she thinks it would be so bad, what must he think? Is it possible -for him to class me with--to think of me as--as he does of--Oh!" and -with a hot flush burning her face, Cynthia rose hastily and put her work -away. - - - - -XIV - - -AT one o'clock the following Sunday afternoon Nelson Floyd drove up -to Porter's gate in his new buggy, behind his spirited Kentucky -thorough-bred. Nathan Porter in his stockinged feet, for the day was -warm, stood on the porch, and as Floyd reined in, he walked down the -steps and out to the gate, leaning over it lazily, his slow, pleased -glance critically sweeping the horse from head to foot. - -"You've got you a dandy at last," was his observation. "I used to be -some'n' of a judge. Them's the slimmest legs fer sech a good stout -body I ever seed. He totes his head high without a check-rein, too, an' -that's purty. I reckon you come after Cynthia. She'll be out here in a -minute. She knows you've come; she kin see the road from the window o' -her room. An' I never knowed a woman that could keep from peepin' out." - -"Oh, I'm in no hurry at all," Floyd assured him. "It's only ten miles, -and we can easily make it by the three o'clock service." - -"Oh, well, I reckon it don't make no odds to you whether you hold _yore_ -meetin' in that hug-me-tight or under the arbor. I know my choice -'ud 'a' been jest one way when I was on the turf. Camp-meetin's an' -bush-arbor revivals used to be our hay-time. Us boys an' gals used to -have a great way o' settin' in our buggies, jest outside, whar we could -chat all we wanted to, jine in the tunes, an' at the same time git -credit fer properly observin' the day." - -"That's about the way the young people look at it now," Floyd said, with -a smile. - -"I reckon this is a sort o' picnic to you in more ways than one," Porter -remarked, without a trace of humor in his tone, as he spat over the gate -and wiped his chin on his bare hand. "You ort to enjoy a day o' freedom, -after waitin' two hours at that spring fer Jeff Wade. Gee whiz! half o' -Springtown was behind barracks, sayin' prayers an' beggin' the Lord -to spare the town from flames. I didn't stay myself. I don't object -to watchin' a fisticuff match once in a while, but fellers in a -powder-and-ball battle like that seem to try to mow down spectators as -hard as they do the'r man. Then I don't like to be questioned in court. -A feller has to forgit so dern much, ef he stands to his friends." - -"No, we avoided trouble," said Floyd, in evident aversion to a topic so -keenly personal. "So you like my horse! He is really the best I could -get at Louisville." - -"I reckon." Porter spat again. "Well, as you say, Wade _will_ shoot an' -he kin, too. When he was in the war, they tell me his colonel wanted -some sharpshooters an' selected 'im to--but thar's that gal now. Gee -whiz! don't she look fluffy?" - -For the most part, the drive was through the mountains, along steep -roads, past yawning gorges, and across rapid, turbulent streams. It was -an ideal afternoon for such an outing, and Cynthia had never looked so -well, though she was evidently fatigued. Floyd remarked upon this, and -she said: "I don't know why it was, but I waked at three o'clock this -morning, and could not get back to sleep before father called me at six. -Since then I have been hard at work. I'm afraid I shall feel very tired -before we get back." - -"You must try not to think of fatigue." Floyd was admiring her color, -her hair, her eyes. "Then you ought to relax yourself. There is no use -sitting so erect; if you sit that way the jolting over this rough road -will break you all to pieces. Don't lean so far from me. I'm not going -to hurt you. I'm glad I beat Hillhouse to you. I saw him going to -your house the next morning. I know he asked you." - -"Yes, he asked me," Cynthia said, "and I was sorry to disappoint him." - -Floyd laughed. "Well, the good and the bad are fighting over you, little -girl. One man who, in the eyes of the community, stands for reckless -badness, has singled you out, and thrown down the gauntlet to a man who -represents the Church, God, and morality--both are grimly fighting for -the prettiest human flower that ever grew on a mountain-side." - -"I don't like to hear you talk that way." Cynthia looked him steadily in -the eyes. "It sounds insincere; it doesn't come from your heart. I don't -like your compliments--your open flattery. You say the same things to -other girls." - -"Oh no; I beg your pardon, but I don't. I couldn't. They don't inspire -them as you do. You--you tantalize me, Cynthia; you drive me crazy with -your maddening reserve--the way you have of thinking things no man could -read in your face, and above it all, through it all, your wonderful -beauty absolutely startles me--makes me at times unable to speak, clogs -my utterance, and fires my brain. I don't know--I can't understand it, -but you are in my mind all day long, and at night, after my work is -over, I want to wander about your house--not with the hope of having you -actually come out, you know, but to enjoy the mere fancy that you have -joined me." - -A reply was on her hesitating lips, but his ardor and impetuosity swept -it away, and she sat with lowered lashes looking into her lap. The horse -had paused to drink at a clear brook running across the road. All about -grew graceful, drooping willows. It was a lonely spot, and it seemed -that they were quite out of the view of all save themselves. Cynthia's -pink hand lay like a shell in her lap, and he took it into his. For an -instant it thrilled as if the spirit of resistance had suddenly waked in -it, and then it lay passive. Floyd raised it to his lips and kissed it, -once, twice, several times. He held it ecstatically in both his own, and -fondled it. Then suddenly an exclamation of surprise escaped Cynthia's -lips, and with her eyes glued on some object ahead, she snatched her -hand away, her face hot with blushes. Following her glance, Floyd saw -a man with his coat on his arm rising from the ground where he had been -resting on the moss. It was Pole Baker, and with his shaggy head down, -his heavy brows drawn together, he came towards them. - -"I was jest waitin' fer somebody to pass an' give me a match," he said -to Floyd, almost coldly, without a glance at Cynthia. "I'm dyin' to -smoke this cigar." - -"What are you doing out afoot?" Floyd asked, as he gave him several -matches. - -"Oh, I'm goin' to meetin', too. I know a short foot-path through the -mountains. Sally an' the chil-dem didn't want to come, an' I'd a heap -ruther walk five miles than to ride ten over a road like this 'un. I'd -sorter be afeard of a mettlesome hoss like that'un. Ef he was to git -scared an' break an' run, neither one o' you'd escape among these cliffs -an' gullies." - -"Oh, I can hold him in," Floyd said. "Well, we'd better drive on. Do you -think you can get there as soon as we do, Pole?" - -"I won't miss it much," said the farmer, and they saw him disappear in a -shaded path leading down the mountain-side. - -"He puzzles me," Floyd said, awkwardly. "For a minute I imagined he was -offended at something." - -"He saw you--holding my hand." Cynthia would not say _kissing_. The word -had risen to her tongue, but she instinctively discarded it. "He's been -almost like a brother to me He has a strong character, and I admire him -very much. I always forget his chief weakness; he never seems to me to -be a drunkard. He has the highest respect for women of any man I ever -knew. I'm sorry--just now--" - -"Oh, never mind Pole," Floyd broke in, consolingly. "He's been a young -man himself, and he knows how young people are. Now, if you begin to -worry over that little thing, I shall be miserable. I set out to make -you have a pleasant drive." - - - - -XV - - -AN hour later they arrived at the bush-arbor, a rough shed upon which -rested a roof of freshly cut boughs of trees and on which there were -benches without backs. The ground was strewn with straw, and at the far -end was a crude platform and table where several ministers sat. - -Leaving his companion near the main entrance, Floyd led his horse -some distance away before he could find a suitable place to hitch him. -Returning, he found a seat for himself and Cynthia near the rear. They -had not been there long before Pole Baker slouched in, warm and flushed -from his walk, and sat directly across the aisle from them. Floyd smiled -and called Cynthia's attention to him, but Pole stared straight at the -pulpit and neither looked to the right nor left. Floyd noticed a farmer -bend over and speak to him, and was surprised to see that Pole made no -response whatever. With a puzzled expression on his face, the farmer -sank back into his seat. - -The meeting was opened with prayer and a hymn. Then Hillhouse, who had -arrived a little late, came in, a Bible and hymn-book in hand, and went -forward and sat with the other ministers. Floyd noted the shifting look -of dissatisfaction on his thin face, and his absent-minded manner, as he -exchanged perfunctory greetings with those around him. - -"Poor fellow!" Floyd said to himself, "he's hard hit, and no wonder." -He glanced at the fair face at his elbow and thrilled from head to foot. -She was certainly all that a woman could possibly be. - -Then there was a rousing sermon from the Rev. Edward Richardson, an -eloquent mountain evangelist. His pleadings bore immediate fruit. Women -began to shed tears, and sob, and utter prayers aloud. This was followed -by tumultuous shouting, and the triumphant evangelist closed his talk by -asking all who felt like it to kneel where they were and receive prayers -for their benefit. Half of the congregation fell on their knees. "Did -you see that?" Floyd whispered to Cynthia, and he directed her attention -to Pole Baker, who was kneeling on the ground, his great, heavily shod -feet under the seat in front of him, his elbows on his own bench, and -his big, splaying hands pressed over his eyes. - -"Poor fellow!" she whispered back, "he is making fresh resolutions -to quit drinking, I suppose. I'm so sorry for him. He tries harder -to reform for the sake of his wife and children than any man I know. -Sometimes I am afraid he never will succeed." - -"Perhaps not," said Floyd. "You see, I know what it is, Cynthia." - -"You?" - -"Why, of course, it almost got me down once. There was a point in my -life when I could have been blown one way or the other as easily as a -feather. I don't want to pose as being better than I am, and I confess -that I am actually afraid at times that it may again get the best of -me. God only knows how a man has to fight a thing like that after it -has once become a habit. As long as matters are like they are now, I -can hold my own, I am sure; but I actually believe if I had to meet -some absolutely crushing blow to all my hopes and aspirations, I'd--I'd -really be as weak as Pole is." - -"I don't believe it," said Cynthia, raising her frank eyes to his. "I -don't believe a word of it," she repeated, firmly. - -"You don't? Well, perhaps your faith will save me." - -The prayer over, the preacher next called on all who felt that they -needed special spiritual help in any particular trial, affliction, or -trouble to come forward and give him their hands. Several men and women -responded, and among them, to Floyd's growing astonishment, was Pole -Baker. He stood erect at his seat for an instant, and then, with his -long arms swinging at his sides, he walked up and shook hands stiffly -with the minister. - -"You were right about it," Floyd said to Cynthia. "I reckon he's making -new resolutions. But where is the fellow going?" - -They saw Pole, after releasing the preacher's hand, turn out at the side -of the arbor, and slowly stalk away towards the spot where Floyd had -hitched his horse. - -"Perhaps he's going to start back home," Cynthia said. "It's getting -late and cloudy, and he has a long walk before him." - -"That's it," said Floyd. "And footing it through the woods as dark as it -is even now is no simple matter; though Pole really has the instincts -of a red Indian. But I don't understand it, for he is not headed towards -home." - -There was another earnest talk from another preacher, and then Hillhouse -closed the meeting with a prayer. - -Leaving Cynthia at the arbor, Floyd went down for his horse. He was not -far from the buggy when he saw Pole Baker rise from a flat stone upon -which he had been seated. Without looking at him, Pole went to the -hitch-rein and unfastened it, and led the restive animal around in the -direction he was to go. - -"Much obliged to you, old man," Floyd said, deeply touched by the -action. "I could have done that myself." - -"I know it, Nelson," Pole responded; "but I've got some'n' to say to -you, an' as it is late an' may take a minute or two, I thought I'd save -all the time I could an' not keep yore little partner waitin'." - -"Oh, you want to see me, do you?" - -Pole hesitated, his glance on the ground; the sockets of his big eyes -were full-looking, and the muscles of his face and great neck were -twitching. Presently he stared Floyd steadily in the eyes and began: - -"Nelson, you've knowed me a good many years in the way one man knows a -friend an' neighbor, or even a brother, but you don't plumb understand -me yit. The Lord God Almighty's made men side by side in life as -different as two kinds o' plants, or two sorts o' minerals. Me'n' you -is friends, an' I'm a-goin' to say at the start that I love you as a -brother, but we see things different--me'n' you do--we act different -about some things. That's what I want to see you about." - -"Oh, I see!" Floyd had never been more perplexed in his life, but he -waited for Pole's explanation. - -"I hain't here to reflect on the character of women in general, -nuther," said Baker, "though what I say mought sound like it to the -shallow-minded. I'm here to tell you that the Lord God has made some o' -the sweetest an' best an' purest women that ever lived unable to resist -the fire the devil kindles in some men's eyes. Jest as the Almighty -allowed Old Nick to play smash right among the elected angels o' heaven -tell he was kicked out, so does he let 'im play hell an' damnation with -the best an' purest here on earth, usin' as his devilish instrument men -who excuse the'rselves on the plea that it's human natur'. A good woman -will sometimes be as helpless under a hot-blooded man's eye and voice -as a dove is when it flutters an' stands wonderin' before a rattlesnake -that means to devour it soul and body." - -"Pole, what's all this mean?" Floyd asked, slightly irritated. - -"You wait an' see, dern yore hide!" said Pole. "Ef I kin afford to talk -to you when I'm due at my home an' fireside, you kin afford to listen, -fer ef it don't do you some good, it will be the beginnin' o' more harm -than you ever had to tackle in yore short life. I want to tell you, -Nelson, that that little woman you drove out here has been as true a -friend to me as _you_ have, an' if I have to side with one or the other, -it will be with the weakest one." - -"She's made sacrifices fer me. She saved little Billy's life, an' one day -while I was lyin' too drunk to hold my head up in the swamp betwixt -her daddy's house an' mine, she found me thar an' run an' fetched -fresh water in my hat, an' bathed my nasty, bloated face with her wet -handkerchief, an' kept tellin' me to brace up an' not go home that away -an' make my wife feel bad. She done that, Nelson Floyd, _an', by the -holy God_, ef you think I'm a-goin' to set idle an' even _think_ thar's -_a bare resk_ o' her bein' made unhappy by a big, strappin' thing in -pants, an' a vest, an' coat, an' a blue neck tie, you've got little -enough sense to need a guardeen to look after yore effects. I don't say -thar _is_ danger nor thar hain't, but I seed you doin' a thing back thar -on the road that didn't strike me as bein' plumb right, coupled with -what I seed when you climbed over the fence o' Nathan Porter's orchard -nigh midnight not long back. I've already told you I love you like a -brother, but while meetin' was goin' on I made up my mind to say this -to you. I got down at the preacher's invite an' prayed on it, an' I went -forward an' give 'im my hand on it, axin' the sanction o' the Lord on -it, an' I'm here to tell you to yore teeth, Nelson, that ef a hair o' -that bonny head is harmed _through you_ I will kill you as I would a -p'ison snake! Now, I've said it. I'd 'a' had to say it ef you had been -my twin brother, an' I'm not a-goin' to be sorry fer it, nuther. Yore a -good, well-meanin' young man, but you ain't yorese'f when you give way -to hot blood." - -Floyd was standing behind the neck of his horse, and for an instant Pole -could not see his face. There was silence for a moment. Then Floyd came -round the horse and stood facing the mountaineer. He was pale, his lower -lip was twitching; there was a look in his eyes Baker had never seen -there before. - -"Pole,"'he said, "I'd shoot any other man on God's earth for talking to -me as you have. - -"You mean you'd _try_, Nelson." - -"Yes, I mean I'd try; but I can't be mad at you. We've been too close -for that, Pole. I admire you more than any man alive. With all your -faults, you have done more, in the long run, to lift me up than any -other influence. I don't know what to say to you. I--I feel your words -keenly, but you understand that I cannot, after what you have said, -and the way you've said it, make promises. That would really be--be an -insult to--to the lady in question, and an acknowledgment that no brave -man could make to another." - -"I understand that, Nelson." And Pole, with a softened face, held out -his big, warm hand. "Shake, old boy. Let it all pass. Now that you -understand me, I'm goin' to trust you like a friend. No good man will -harm the sister of a friend, noway, an' that's what she is to me. She's -my little sister, Nelson. Now, you go take 'er home. I don't like the -looks o' that cloud in the west,' an' I don't like the way that hoss o' -your'n keeps layin' back his ears an' snortin' at ever' leaf that blows -by." - - - - -XVI - - -FLOYD drove on to the bush-arbor and helped Cynthia into the buggy. - -"Was that Pole Baker talking to you?" she questioned. - -"Yes, he wanted to speak to me," said Floyd, seriously. "He unhitched my -horse and turned him around." - -"I suppose he is making resolutions to reform?" - -Floyd shrugged his shoulders unconsciously. "Yes, he's always doing -that sort of thing. He's afraid there may be a storm, too. He's the -best weather prophet I know. If the cloud were behind us I shouldn't be -concerned at all, for Jack could outrun it." - -They were driving into a lonely, shaded part of the road, and there -they noticed more plainly the darkness that had rapidly fallen over the -landscape. Cynthia shivered, and Floyd tried to see the expression of -her face, but she was looking down and he was unable to do so. - -"Are you really afraid?" he asked. - -"I was thinking about how narrow the road is," she made answer, "and of -the awful cliffs along beside it. Then Jack seems restless and excited. -If the lightning were to begin to flash, or should strike near us, he -might--" - -"Don't worry," Floyd broke in, calmly. "It is this long, dark road that -makes you nervous. We'll get out of it in a few minutes." - -But they were delayed. Jack, frightened at some imaginary object ahead, -paused, and with his fore-feet firmly planted in front of him, he stood -snorting, his ears thrown back. His master gently urged him to go on, -but he refused to move. Then Floyd touched his flanks with the lash -of the whip, but this only caused the animal to rear up in a dangerous -manner and start to turn round. The road was too narrow for this, -however, and throwing the reins into Cynthia's lap, Floyd got out and -went to the horse's head, and holding to the bridle, he gently stroked -the face and neck of the animal. But although Floyd tried, Jack would -not be led forward. The situation was really grave, for the time was -passing and night was already upon them. From his position at the -animal's head, Floyd could barely see Cynthia in her white shawl and -dress. Along the black horizon the lightning was playing, and the rising -wind bore to their faces fine drops of rain. It was a sudden crash of -thunder behind them that made the horse start forward, and it was with -some difficulty that Floyd got into the buggy from behind. Then they -dashed forward at a perilous speed. On they went, over the rough road. -Even out in the open it was now dark, and in the distance they heard -the ominous roar and crash of the approaching storm. The situation was -indeed critical. Once more they ran into a road so dark that they -could scarcely see Jack's head. Suddenly Floyd drew rein, stopped the -quivering horse, and looked closely at the ground. Cynthia heard an -exclamation of dismay escape his lips. - -"What is it?" she asked. He made no answer till she had repeated her -question. - -"This is the same road we passed over half an hour ago," he said. "We -have gone the wrong way. We are lost, little girl!" - -Even at that grave moment he felt a thrill of admiration at her -coolness. - -"Well," she said, "we must make the best of it and not get excited. If -we lose our heads there is no telling what may happen." - -"What a brave little woman you are!" he said. "Do you remember? The road -forks about a quarter of a mile ahead; when we went by just now, we took -either the right or the left, but I've forgotten which." - -"We took the right," she said. "I remember that distinctly." - -"Then we must take the left this time--that is, if you are sure." - -"I'm very sure." - -"Good; then we must drive on as fast as we can." - -"You'd better go slowly," Cynthia cautioned him. "The road is very, -very dangerous, and if Jack should become frightened as we are passing a -cliff there is no telling what--" - -She did not finish, for there was a bright flash of lightning in their -faces, followed by a deafening clap of thunder on the mountain-side -above them. With a terrified snort, Jack plunged onward. They reached -the point where the roads divided, and Floyd managed to pull the animal -into the right one. For half an hour they sped onward. Every effort -Floyd made to check the horse was foiled; the spirited animal seemed to -have taken the bit between his teeth. Then the storm broke upon them -in alarming fury, and they suddenly found themselves before a high, -isolated building. The horse, as with almost human instinct, had paused. - -"It's Long's mill," Floyd told Cynthia. "It's not in use. Pole and I -stopped here to rest when we were out hunting last month. The door is -not locked. There is a shed and stable behind for horses. We must get in -out of danger." - -Cynthia hesitated. "Is it the only thing?" she asked. - -"Yes, it might cost us our lives to drive on, and it is two miles to the -nearest house." - -"All right, then." He was already on the ground, and she put her hands -on his shoulders and sprang down. - -"Now, run up the steps," he said. "The door opens easily. I'll lead Jack -around to the shed and be back in a minute." - -She obeyed, and when he returned after a few moments he found her on the -threshold waiting for him, her beautiful, long hair blown loose by the -fierce wind. - -They stood side by side in the darkness for a few minutes, and then a -torrent of rain dashed down upon the roof like tons of solid matter, -which threatened to crush the building like an egg-shell. He pushed her -back, and with a great effort managed to close the big sliding-door. - -"We must keep the wind out," he said. "If we don't the mill will be -blown away." - -It was now too dark for them to see each other at all, and the roar of -the storm rendered speech between them almost impossible. She suddenly -felt his hands grasp hers, and then he shouted, as he held them in his -tight clasp: "There is a big pile of fodder over there against the wall. -Come, sit down. There is no telling how long this may last, and you are -already fagged out." - -She offered no resistance, and he cautiously led her through the -darkness till he felt the fodder under his feet. Then he bent down and -raked a quantity of it together and again took her hand. - -"Sit here," he said, gently pushing her downward. "It is dry and warm." - -He was right. The soft bed of sweet-smelling corn leaves felt very -comfortable to the tired girl. He laughed out impulsively as he pulled a -quantity of the fodder near to her and sat down on it, locking his arms -over his knees. "This isn't so very bad, after all," he said. "You know, -it might have been a great deal worse. Jack's well housed, and this old -mill has withstood a thousand storms." - -She said nothing, and he leaned nearer till his lips almost touched her -ear. - -"Why are you so silent?" he asked. "Are you still afraid?" - -"No, but I was wondering what my mother will think," Cynthia said. -"She'll be sure we have been killed." - -"Don't worry about that," Floyd said, cheerfully. "I gave Pole my last -match, or I'd take a smoke. - -"Why, Cynthia, you don't know when you are in luck. I feel like -Providence is good to me. I've not really had you much to myself all -the afternoon, _anyway_, along with the tiresome preaching, singing, -shouting, and the fast riding in the dark, and now--" He reached out -and took her hand. She made an effort to withdraw it, but he laughed and -held it firmly. - -"Don't be afraid of me, dear," he said. And then, as in a flash, a -picture stood before him. He saw Pole Baker at his rough bench kneeling -in the straw. He had another vision. It was the gaunt farmer as he -stalked forward to shake hands with the preacher. Then Floyd, as it -were, stood facing the mountaineer, and, above the thunder of the raging -tempest without, Pole's grim warning broke upon the ears of his soul. -Floyd sat staring into the darkness. He saw a white dove fluttering in -a grassy spot before a coiled snake, with eyes like living diamonds. -A shudder passed over him, and raising Cynthia's hand to his lips he -kissed it lightly, respectfully, and released it. - -"Perhaps you'd rather have me stay near the door, little girl," he said, -in a tone he had never used to her before. "You were thrown here with me -against your will, and I shall not force my attentions upon you. Don't -be afraid. I'm going to the door and sit down. I can see the road from -there, and as soon as the storm is over I'll come for you." - -She made no response, and, rising, he moved away, taking an armful of -the corn-blades with him. He found a place against the wall, near the -door, and throwing the fodder down he rested upon it, his long legs -stretched out upon the floor. - -"Thank God!" he said. "Pole Baker has shot more manhood into my dirty -carcass to-day than it ever held before. I'll take care of your little -sister, Pole. She's a sweet, dear, noble, brave little woman. There -is not another such a one on earth. Good God! what must a sensitive, -refined creature like she is think of an affair like that Jeff Wade -business?" He shuddered. Pushing some of the fodder under his head, he -reclined at full length. Something Pole had said to him once while they -were on the river-bank fishing came to him. "I believe," the mountaineer -had said, with his eyes on his line, "that the Almighty made women weak -in their very sweetness an' purity an' men strong in evil. An' He lets -two of 'em come together in this life, an' stand side by side, an' ef -the man is good enough, they will grow together an' work fer good an' -perfect happiness. But ef he's evil, he kin put out his slimy arms an' -draw her into his own cesspool like a water-moccasin coiled round a -pond-lily. It is with the man to make or damn his chances of contentment -in life, an' when he's soaked in evil he not only damns hisse'f but all -he touches." - -Floyd closed his eyes. His admiration for Pole Baker had never been so -intense. For perhaps the first time in his life he felt the sting of the -hot blood of shame in his face. - -"I'll take care of your little sister, Pole," he said. "I'll do it--I'll -do it!" - -He closed his eyes. The storm was beating more steadily now. His -thoughts became a delicious blur. - -He was asleep. Several hours must have passed. He waked, sat up, -and looked about him; it was not so dark now, and while it was still -raining, the noise of the falling drops was not so loud. He stood up and -stretched himself. From the stiffness of his limbs he knew he had slept -a long time. - -"Cynthia!" he called out, but there was no reply. "Cynthia!" he called -again, but still only his own voice rang out above the falling rain -and whistling wind. He groped forward. In the darkness he saw her white -dress like a drift of snow against the pile of fodder. He bent over her -and touched her. She sat up with a start. - -"You've been asleep, too," he laughed. - -"Oh, have I?" she exclaimed. "I--I--forgot where I was, and I was so -tired. Is--is the rain over? Can we go on now?" - -"Not yet, I'm afraid, Cynthia," he said, consolingly. "If you don't -object to staying here alone, I'll go outside and look around. I want to -see if we can cross the mill creek. Sometimes it gets very high." - -"Oh, I'm not afraid," she assured him. "There's nothing here to be -afraid of." - -"Some women would imagine the mill was full of tramps or escaped negro -convicts," he laughed, "but you are different, little girl. You are -plucky. I'll be back in a few minutes." - -He returned very soon, stamping his wet boots on the mill steps. "The -rain is about over," he told her. "The sky in the east is clearing up; -in fact, it is almost daybreak. Cynthia, we have both, slept longer than -we had any idea of. But the worst part of the business is that the creek -is out of its banks and we can't get across till it runs down; but that -won't take long. We can start for home about sunrise, and then we can go -like the wind. Jack will want his breakfast." - -She said nothing, but he fancied he heard her sigh. She started to rise -and he put out his hand. She gave him hers with a strange, new show of -confidence that touched him, thrilled him, and sent a flush of vague -gratification over him. - -"You are disappointed," he said, tentatively. With her hand still in his -they walked to the door and looked out towards the pale sky in the east. - -"I was wondering what my mother will think," she said. "She won't like -this at all. But you know, Nel--you know, Mr. Floyd, that I couldn't -help it." - -"Of course not," he said, frowning darkly. "Stopping here really saved -our lives. She'll have to see that. You can make her see it, Cynthia." - -"She's very peculiar," Cynthia sighed. "The smallest things almost drive -her insane. The rain is over; don't you think we could go some other way -and avoid the creek?" - -"Why, yes, we could drive back to the Hillcrest road, but it would take -two hours longer." - -"Well, we would have to wait here that long wouldn't we?" - -"Yes, it's six of one and half a dozen of the other," he smiled. "If -you'd rather be in the buggy and on the move, why, we can start." - -"I think I had," she said. - -"All right; you are the doctor," he laughed. "I'll get Jack out and have -him hitched to the buggy in a minute." - - - - -XVII - - -THE sun--and it had never seemed to shine so brightly before--had been -up about half an hour when the couple drove up to Porter's gate. - -"There's mother at the window now," Cynthia said, as she got out of the -buggy. "I can see that she's angry even from here." - -"I'll hitch Jack and go in and explain," offered Floyd. - -"Oh no, don't!" Cynthia said, quickly. "I'll tell her all about it. Go -on. Good-bye." - -"Good-bye, then," Floyd said, and he drove on to the village. - -But Mrs. Porter did not come to the door to meet her as Cynthia -expected. The girl found her alone in the sitting-room seated sulkily at -the fireplace, where a few sticks of damp wood were burning gloomily. - -"Well, where did you spend the night?" the old woman asked, icily. - -Cynthia stood before her, withered to her soul by the tone in which her -mother's question had been asked. - -"You are not going to like it a bit, mother," the girl said, resignedly. -"The storm overtook us just as we got to Long's mill. The horse was -frightened and about to run away and the road was awfully dangerous. -There was nothing for us to do but to go in." - -"Long's mill! Oh, my God! there is no one living there, nor in miles of -it!" - -"I know it, mother." - -Mrs. Porter buried her pale, wrinkled face in her hands and leaned -forward in her chair, her sharp elbows on her knees. - -"I'm never going to get over this!" she groaned--"never--never; and you -are my _only_ child!" - -"Mother!" Cynthia bent down and almost with anger drew the old woman's -hand from her face. "Do you know what you are saying? Do you know -that--that you may drive me from home with that insinuation?" - -Mrs. Porter groaned. She got up stiffly, and, like a mechanical thing -moved by springs, she caught her daughter's wrist and led her to a -window, sternly staring at her from her great, sunken eyes. "Do you mean -to tell me that you and _that_ man sat together all the live-long night -in that mill?" - -"Mother, I was completely tired out. There was some fodder on the floor. -I sat down on it, and after a long time I dropped asleep. He did too. He -was near the door, and I--" - -Mrs. Porter extended the stiff fingers of her hand and plucked a piece -of fodder from Cynthia's hair, and held it sneeringly up to the light. -"It's a pity you didn't have a comb and brush with you," she said. "You'd -have been supplied at a hotel. Your hair is all in a mess. I'm going to -keep this little thing. Light as it is, it has knocked life and hope out -of me." - -Cynthia looked at her steadily for a moment, and then turned from the -room. "I'm not going to defend myself against such suspicions as you -have," she said from the door. "I know what I am, if you don't." - -"I reckon this whole county will know what you are before many days," -snarled Mrs. Porter. "Minnie Wade had somebody in her family with -enough manhood in 'im to want to defend her honor, but you haven't. Your -sleepy-headed old father--" The girl was gone. For several minutes the -old woman stood quivering in the warm sunlight at the window, and then -she stalked calmly through the dining-room and kitchen and out to the -barn. One of the stable-doors was open, and she could see her husband -inside. - -"Nathan Porter!" she called out--"you come here. I've got something to -tell you." - -"All right," he answered. "I'll be thar in a minute. Dern yore lazy -soul, hain't I give you enough corn to eat without you havin' to chaw -up a brand-new trough? I'm a good mind to take this curry-comb an' bust -yore old head with it!" - -"Nathan Porter, I say, come out here! Let that horse alone!" - -"All right, I'm a-comin'. Now, I reckon I'll have to fetch a hammer an' -saw an' nails an' buy planks to make another trough, jest fer you to -chaw up into powder." - -"Nathan Porter, do you hear me?" - -"Well, I reckon ef I don't, they do over at Baker's," and the farmer, -bareheaded and without his coat, came from the stable. - -"That blasted hoss has deliberately set to work an' chaw--" - -"Nathan Porter"--the old woman thrust her slim fingers into his -face--"do you see that piece of fodder?" - -"Yes, I see it. Is it a sample o' last year's crop? Are you buy in' or -sellin'? You mought 'a' fetched a bundle of it. A tiny scrap like--" - -"I got that out o' Cynthia's hair." - -"You don't say! It must be a new sort o' ornament! I wouldn't be -surprised to see a woman with a bundle of it under each arm on the front -bench at meetin' after seein' them Wilson gals t'other night ready fer -the dance with flour in the'r hair an' the ace o' spades pasted on the'r -cheeks." - -"Cynthia and Nelson Floyd stayed all night in Long's mill," panted Mrs. -Porter. "There wasn't another soul there nor in miles of it." - -"Huh, you don't say!" the farmer sniffed. "I reckon ef they had 'a' sent -out a proclamation through the country that they was goin' to stay thar -a lot o' folks would 'a' waded through the storm to be present." - -"I got this out of her hair, I tell you!" the old woman went on, -fiercely. "Her head was all messed up, and so was her dress. If you've -got any manhood in you, you'll go to town and call Nelson Floyd out and -settle this thing." - -"Huh! Me go to his store on his busiest day an' ax 'im about a piece o' -fodder no bigger'n a gnat's wing? He'd tell me I was a dern fool, an' -I'd deserve it. Oh! see what you are a-drivin' at, an' I tell you it -gits me out o' patience. You women are so dad blasted suspicious -an' guilty at the bottom yorese'ves that you imagine bad acts is as -plentiful as the leaves on the ground in the fall. Now, let me tell you, -you hain't obeying the Scriptural injunction to judge not lest ye -be judged accordin'ly. I want you to let that little gal an' her -sweetheart business alone. You hain't a-runnin' it. You don't have to -live with the feller she picks out, an' you hain't no say whatever in -the matter. Nur you h'aint got no say, nuther, as to the way she does -her particular courtin'. The Lord knows, nobody was kind enough to put -in away back thar when you was makin' sech a dead set fer me. Folks talk -a little about Floyd, but let me tell you my _own_ character them days -wasn't as white as snow. I don't know many men wuth the'r salt that -hain't met temptation. I sorter cut a wide swath 'fore I left the turf, -an' you know it. Didn't I hear you say once that you reckoned you never -would 'a' tuck me ef I'd 'a' been after you day an' night? You knowed -thar was other fish in the sea, an' you didn't have any bait to speak -of, with them Turner gals an' the'r nigger slaves an' plantations in -the'r own right livin' next door to pa's. Yore old daddy said out open -that you an' yore sister needn't expect a dollar from him; he'd educated -you, an' that was all he could do. I hain't grumblin', mind you. I never -cry over spilt milk; it hain't sensible. It don't help a body out of a -bad matter into a better one." - -"Oh, I wish you'd hush and listen to me." Mrs. Porter had not heard half -he had said. "I tell you Cynthia and that man stayed all night long in -that lonely mill together, an' she came home at sunrise this morning all -rumpled up and--" - -"Now, you stop right thar! _You stop right thar!_" Porter said, with as -much sternness as he could command. "As to stayin' in that mill all by -the'rse'ves, I want you jest to put on yore thinkin'-cap, ef the old -thing hain't wore clean to tatters or laid away till it's moth-et. Do -you remember when that lonely old widder Pelham pegged out durin' our -courtin'-time? You do? _Well!_ We went thar--you an' me did--expectin' -to meet the Trabue crowd, an' that passle o' young folks from Hanson's, -to set up with the corpse. Well, when me'n' you got thar about eight -o'clock the Trabue crowd sent word that as long as the Hanson lay-out -was comin', they believed they wouldn't drive so fur; an' right on top -o' that come a message from the Hanson folks, sayin' that you an' me an' -the Trabues was as many as the little house would hold, so they would -stay away; an' thar you an' me was with nobody to make us behave but a -dead woman, an' _her_ screwed down tight in a box. I remember as clear -as day that you laughed an' said you didn't care, an' you set in to -makin' coffee an' cookin' eggs an' one thing another to keep us awake -an' make me think you was handy about a house. Well, now, here's the -moral to that tale. The neighbors--tough as my record was--was kind -enough not to say nasty things about us afterwards, an' it hain't -Christian or motherly of you to start a tale about our gal when as big -a storm as that driv' her an' her beau in out o' danger. Besides, I tell -you, you are standin' in Cynthia's light. She's got as good a right to -the best in the land as anybody, an' I believe Nelson Floyd is goin' to -git married sooner or later. He's had a chance to look over the field, -an' I hope she'll suit 'im. I never made money by marryin', myself, an' -I sorter like the idea o' my child gittin' a comfortable berth. That gal -hain't no common person nohow. She'll show off a fine house as well as -any woman in this state. She's got sense, an' a plenty of it; folks say -she's like me." - -"You don't know what you are talking about." Mrs. Porter was looking at -the ground. Her hard face had softened; she was drawn perforce to words -at her husband's view of the matter. His rebuke rang harshly in her -ears. She turned towards the house and took several steps, then she -looked back. "I pray God you are right, Nathan," she said. "Maybe all -the worry I had through the night has made me unable to see the matter -fairly." - -"That's it!" said Porter, as he leaned on the fence; "and let me tell -you, if you don't quit makin' so many mountains out o' mole-hills, an' -worryin' at sech a rate, you'll go like yore sister Martha did. Try -worryin' about _yorese'f_ awhile; ef I thought as mean about my own -child as you do I'd bother about the condition o' my soul." - -With her head hanging low, Mrs. Porter walked slowly to the house. Her -view was more charitable and clearer, though she was so constituted that -she could not at once obey her inclination to apologize to her daughter. - -"I'm actually afraid I'm losing my mind," she said. "I am acting exactly -as Sister Martha did." - - - - -XVIII - - -IT was a warm morning on the first day of June. Pole Baker lay on the -thick grass, near the door of the court-house, talking to Jim Carden, a -little shoemaker from Darley. - -"Didn't Nelson Floyd go in the court-house jest now?" Pole asked. - -"Yes," said the shoemaker, in his high voice; "him an' Colonel Price was -settin' here fer half an' hour 'fore you come, talkin' about a -trade. Price is tryin' to sell 'im his plantation, an' that big house -completely furnished. I'd rather see Floyd's eyes when he's on a trade -than anything I ever looked at. They shine like twin stars. But I don't -believe they'll trade. They are too far apart." - -"This section is chock full o' keen men, from the highest to the -lowest," remarked Pole. "Old settlers say that a long time ago seven -Jews settled here, intendin' to git rich, an' that these mountain men -got all they had, an' the Jews literally starved to death. Thar hain't -been one in the county since." - -"Our folks certainly are hard to down," said Carden. "Do you know that -long, slim chap in front o' Floyd's store? That's one o' the Bowen boys, -from Gilmer--I mean the feller at the covered wagon." - -"Know 'im? I reckon I do," Pole laughed, "That's Alf Bowen. I had a -round with 'im one day. It was in the fall o' the year, an' they was so -busy at Mayhew & Floyd's that they pulled me into service. I'm a purty -good salesman when I'm about half loaded. Well, Alf come in leadin' his -little gal by the hand, an' said he wanted to fit 'er out in a cloak. -Joe Peters hung to 'im fer half an' hour, but everything he'd show the -feller was too high, or not good enough, an Joe switched 'im off on me. -Joe was afeard ef the skunk went out that some more that was with 'im -would follow, an' _they_ was buyin' a little, now an' then. Well, do you -know, Jim, I made up my mind I'd sell that feller a cloak ef I had to do -it below cost an' make up the difference myself. Old Uncle Abner Daniel -was thar settin' on a nail-keg, a-spittin' an' a-chawin' an' pokin' -fun at me. As I was passin' 'im he cocked his eye up an' said, said he: -'Pole, I'll bet you a segar you cayn't sell 'im.' 'Done,' said I. 'I'll -go you,' an' I set to work in earnest. Alf had sorter intimated that -six dollars was his cloak-limit, an' I drawed Joe Peters round behind a -stack o' boxes, an' axed 'im ef we had anything as low as that. Joe said -no, we didn't, but, said he, 'sometimes when we git short, we run into -Glenn's store next door an' take out an' article on trial, an' ef we -sell it, we git it at cost.' Well, I happened to know that Glenn had -some cloaks in, so I went back to my customer an' told 'im that we had -jest got in a box o' cloaks the day before, but they was in the cellar -unopened, an' ef he'd wait a minute, I'd bust the box an' see ef thar -was any low-priced cloaks in the lot. Bowen's eyes sorter danced, an' he -said he had plenty o' time. So I picked up a hammer an' run down in the -cellar. I knocked at an empty box, an' kicked over a barrel or two, an' -then scooted out at the back door an' round into Glenn's shebang. 'Sam,' -said I, 'have you got a cloak that you kin let us have so we kin sell -it at six dollars an' make any profit?' He studied a minute, an' then -he said he 'lowed he had jest the thing, an' he went an' got one an' -fetched it to me. 'This un,' said he, 'is all right except this little -ripped place here under the arm, but any woman kin fix that in a minute. -I kin let you have it, Pole, fer five-fifty.' Well, sir, I grabbed it -an' darted back into our cellar, knocked once or twice more with the -hammer, an' run up to Alf an' the gal. 'Here's one,' said I. 'It's an -eight-dollar garment, but in drawin' it out o' the box jest now I ripped -it a little, but any woman kin fix that in a minute. Now, bein' as it's -_you_, Alf,' said I, 'an' we want yore trade, I'll make it to you at -first cost without the freight from Baltimore. I kin give you this -thing, Alf,' said I, fer six dollars.' - -"Well, sir, I thought I had 'im, an' was winkin' at Uncle Ab, when Bowen -sorter sniffed an' stuck his long finger through the hole. 'Shucks!' -said he. 'Sam Glenn offered me that cloak fer four dollars an' a half -two weeks ago. I could 'a' got it fer four, but I wouldn't have it. It's -moth-et.'" - -Carden threw himself back on the grass and laughed. "What the devil did -you do?" he asked. - -"Do?--nothin'. What could I do? I jest grinned an' acknowledged the -corn. The joke was agin me. An' the funny part of it was the feller was -so dead in earnest he didn't see anything to laugh at. Ef I'd a-been in -his place I'd 'a' hollered." - -"Did you give Uncle Ab his cigar?" the shoemaker asked. - -"I offered it to 'im, Jim, but he wouldn't take it. I axed 'im why. -'Beca'se,' said he, 'I was bettin' on a certainty.' 'How's that?' said -I. 'Why,' said he, 'I seed Alf Bowen buy a cloak fer that gal at the -fire sale over at Darley two weeks ago. He was just lookin' around to -see ef he'd got bit.'" - -Pole saw Floyd coming out of the court-house and went to him. "I -understand you an' Price are on a deal," he said. - -"Yes, but we are far apart," Floyd answered, pleasantly. "He offers -me his entire two thousand acres and furnished house for twenty-five -thousand. As I told him, Pole, I could draw the money out of other -investments an' take the property, but I couldn't see profit in it above -twenty thousand." - -"It's wuth all he asks fer it," Pole said, wisely. - -"I know it is, to any man who wants to live on it, but if I buy it, I'd -have to hire a good man to manage it, and, altogether, I can't see my -way to put more than twenty thousand in it. He's anxious to sell. He and -his wife want to move to Atlanta, to be with their married daughter." - -They were walking towards Floyd's store, and Pole paused in the street. -"Are you busy right now, Nelson?" he asked, his face wearing a serious -look. - -"Not at all, Pole." - -"Well, I've got some'n' to say to you, Nelson. I'm goin' to acknowledge -that thar's one thing I've wanted to do fer you more, by hunkey, than -anything in the world. Nelson, I've always hoped that I'd run across -some clew that 'ud eventually lead to you findin' out who yore kin are." - -"That's good of you, Pole," responded Floyd, in a sincere tone. "It is -a thing I am more interested in than anything else in the world." The -young merchant laughed mechanically. "Pole, if the lowest-looking tramp -you ever saw in your life were to come here, and I found out he was even -a distant cousin of mine, I'd look on him with reverence. I'd fit him -out in new clothes and give him money, and never want to lose sight -of him. Why I feel that way I don't know, but it is planted deep down -inside." - -"I knew you felt that away," said Pole, "and, as I say, I want to help. -Now, Nelson, all my life folks has said I was keen about tracin' things -out. In my moonshinin' day, an' since then, in helpin' old Ab Daniel an' -Alan Bishop in that timber deal, an' in one way an' another, I've always -been good at readin' men an' the'r faces an' voices. Now, I reckon -what Captain Duncan said that day about his talk with that feller -Floyd--Henry A. Floyd--in Atlanta went in at one o' yore ears an' out at -t'other, but it didn't with me. I've studied about that thing night an' -day ever since, an' yesterday I had a talk with Duncan. I made 'im go -over what him an' Floyd said, word fer word, an' I'm here to tell you -that I want yore consent to see that old man myself. I've got to go down -to the United States court to-morrow to see Judge Spence, about leniency -in old Paxton's moonshine case, an' I'll have time on my hands. I wish -you'd consent to let me talk, in a roundabout way, of course, to that -man Floyd. Captain Duncan made a big mistake in sayin' so much about -yore bad luck in yore childhood an' nothin' about what you've since made -of yourself. A man as pore as Floyd is, an' as proud, wouldn't care to -rake up kin with a man like Duncan showed you to be. The captain had an -idea that ef he got the old chap's pity up he'd find out what he wanted -to know, but a man of that stripe don't pity no unfortunate man nor want -to claim kin with 'im. From the way Duncan talked to me, I have an idea -that old man was keepin' back some'n'." - -Floyd was looking at his rough friend with eyes full of emotion. "I'd -rather have you do a thing of that kind, Pole, than any man alive," he -said. "And I can trust your judgment and tact, too. I confess I am not -hopeful in that particular direction, but if you want to see the man, -why, do it. I certainly appreciate your interest, and next time I hope -you will not wait to ask my consent. I trust the whole matter to you." - -"Well," the mountaineer smiled, "I may be away off in my calculations, -and make nothin' by it, but I want to try my hand. Thar comes Colonel -Price. I'll bet a new hat he'll come to yore offer before long. You -jest keep a stiff upper lip, an' don't bring up the subject of yore own -accord; he'll do the talkin'." - - - - -XIX - - -WHEN he had finished his interview with Judge Spence in Atlanta the -next day, Pole went to a drug-store and looked up the address of Henry -A. Floyd in the city directory. The old bachelor lived on Peachtree -Street, about half a mile from the Union Depot, in a rather antiquated -story-and-a-half frame house, which must have been built before -the Civil War. The once white paint on its outside had turned to a -weather-beaten gray, and the old-fashioned blinds, originally bright -green in color, had faded, and hung loosely on rusty hinges. There was a -little lawn in front which stretched from the gateless iron fence to the -low-floored veranda, but it held scarcely a tuft of grass, the ground -being bare in some places and in others weed-grown. Pole went to -the door and rang. He was kept waiting for several minutes before a -middle-aged woman, evidently a servant of all work or house-keeper, -appeared. - -"Is Mr. Floyd about?" Pole asked, politely, doffing his slouch hat. - -"He's back in the garden behind the house," the woman said. "If you'll -wait here I'll go call him." - -"All right, ma'am," Pole said. "I'll wait; I've got plenty o' time." She -went away, and he sat down on a rickety bench on the veranda, his hat -still in his hands, his eyes on the passing carriages and street-cars. - -Presently the owner of the house appeared round the corner. He was -tall, clerical looking, ashy as to complexion, slightly bald, had sunken -cheeks over which grew thin, iron-gray side-whiskers, and a despondent -stoop. - -"I'll have to git at that old skunk through his pocket," Pole reflected, -as his keen eyes took in every detail of the man's make-up. "He looks -like he's bothered about some'n', an' a man like that's hard to git -pinned down; an' ef I don't git 'im interested, he'll kick me out o' -this yard. I'll be derned ef he don't favor Nelson a little about the -head an' eyes." - -"How are you, Mr. Floyd?" Pole stood up and extended his hand. "Baker's -my name, sir; from up the country. I was on yore farm in Bartow not long -ago, an' I sorter liked the lay o' the land. Bein' as I was down here -on business, anyhow, I 'lowed I'd drap in an' ax ef you had any part o' -that place you'd care to rent. I've jest got two hosses, but I want to -put in about thirty acres." - -A slight touch of life seemed to struggle into the wan face of the old -man for a moment. - -"I've got just about that many acres unrented," he said. "The rest is -all let out. You'd have good neighbors, Mr.--" - -"Baker, sir--Pole Baker," the caller put in. - -"And good fertile land, too, Mr. Baker. May I ask if you intend to rent -on the part-crop plan or for cash?" - -Pole's eyes twinkled as they rested on a pair of fine horses and -glittering carriage that were passing. "Ef I rent _yore'n_, Mr. Floyd, -I'll pay cash." - -"Well, that certainly is the wisest plan, Mr. Baker." There was a still -greater show of life in the old man's face; in fact, he almost smiled. -"Come inside a minute. I've got a map of my property, showing just how -each section lies and how it's drained and watered." He opened the door -and led Pole into a wide hall, and thence, to the right, into a big, -bare-looking parlor. "Have a seat, Mr. Baker; my desk is in the little -room adjoining." Pole sat down, crossed his long legs, and put his hat -on his knee. When he found himself alone he smiled. "Captain Duncan -thought a crabbed old cuss like that 'ud be interested in pore kin," he -mused. "Huh! nothin' short o' Vanderbilts an' Jay Goulds 'ud start his -family pulse to beatin'. Le' me see, now, how I'd better begin to--" - -"Here it is, Mr. Baker." Floyd entered with a map and pencil in his -hand. "If you looked the place over when you were there, you may -remember that the creek winds round from the bridge to the foot of the -hill. Well, right in there--" - -"I know, and that's dandy land, Mr. Floyd," Pole broke in. "That's as -good as you got, I reckon." - -"The very best, Mr. Baker--in fact, it's the part I always rent for -cash. I have to have ready money for taxes and interest and the like, -you know, and when I strike a man who is able to pay in advance, why, I -can make him a reasonable figure, and he gets the best." - -"It's got a good house on it, too, I believe?" Pole was stroking his -chin with a thoughtful air. - -"Six rooms, and a well and stable and good cow-house, Mr. Baker." Old -Floyd was actually beaming. - -"Does the roof leak?" Pole looked at him frankly. "I won't take my wife -and children into a leaky house, Mr. Floyd. If I pay out my money, I -want ordinary comfort." - -"Doesn't leak a drop, Mr. Baker." - -Pole stroked his chin for another minute. He was looking down at the -worn carpet, but he felt Floyd's eyes fastened eagerly on him. - -"Well, what's yore figure, Mr. Floyd?" - -"Two hundred dollars a year--half when you move in, and the rest a month -later." The old man seemed to hold his breath. The paper which he was -folding quivered. - -"Well, I wouldn't kick about the price," Pole said. "The only thing -that--" Pole seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he went on. "I never -like to act in a hurry in important business matters, an' I generally -want to be sorter acquainted with a man I deal with. You see, ef I moved -on that place it 'ud be to stay a long time, an' thar'd be things on -_yore_ side to do year after year. I generally ax fer references, but -I'm a-goin' to be straight with you, Mr. Floyd; somehow, I feel all -right about you. I like yore face. The truth is, you have a strong -favor to a feller up our way. He's the richest young man we got, an' -the finest ever God's sun shone on. An' as soon as I heard yore name was -Floyd--the same as his is--somehow I felt like you an' him was kin, an' -that I wouldn't lose by dealin' with you. Blood will tell, you know." - -"Why, who do you mean?" The old man stared in pleased surprise. "All -the Floyds I know were broken up by the war. I must say none of them are -really rich." - -"This Floyd is, you kin bet yore boots on that," Pole said, -enthusiastically. "He owns mighty nigh the whole o' our county; he's -the biggest moneylender and investor in stocks and bonds I know of. He's -fine all round: he'd fight a buzz-saw barehanded; he's got more friends -than you kin shake a stick at; he could walk into Congress any election -ef he'd jest pass the word out that he wanted the job." - -"Why, this is certainly news to me," the old man said. "And you say he -resembles me?" - -"Got yore eyes to a T, an' long, slim hands like yore'n, an' the same -shape o' the head an' neck! Why, shorely you've heard o' Nelson Floyd, -junior member o' Mayhew & Floyd, of Springtown, the biggest dealers o' -farm supplies in--" - -"Oh, Nelson Floyd! Why--why, surely there must be some mistake. He -hasn't made money, has he? Why, the only time I ever heard of him he was -in destitute circumstances, and--" - -"Destitute hell!--I beg yore pardon, Mr. Floyd, that slipped out. But -that feller's not only not destitute, but he's the _friend_ o' the -destitute. What he does fer the pore an' sufferin' every year 'ud start -many a man in life." - -A flush had crept into Floyd's face, and he leaned forward in warm -eagerness. "The truth is, Mr. Baker, that Nelson Floyd is the only child -of all the brother I ever had." - -"You _don't say!_" exclaimed Pole, holding the old man's eyes firmly, -"which brother was that?" - -"Charles Nelson--two years younger than I am. The truth is, he and I -became estranged. He broke my mother's heart, Mr. Baker. He was very -wild and dissipated, though he died bravely in battle. I would have -looked after his son, but I lost sight of him and his mother after the -war, and, then, I had my own troubles. There are circumstances, too, -which I don't care to go over with a--a stranger. But I'm glad the young -man has done well. The first I heard of him was about ten years ago. He -was then said to be a sort of wild mountain outlaw. It was not natural -for me to feel pride in him, or--" - -"He _was_ wild about that time," Pole said, as he stood up to go, "but -he settled down and made a man of hisse'f. I'll let you know about that -land, Mr. Floyd. Ef you don't hear from me by--this is Tuesday, ain't -it?--ef you don't hear from me by Saturday, you may know that my wife -has decided to stay on up the country." - -"But"--Floyd's face had fallen--"I hope nothing won't interfere with our -deal, Baker. I'd like to have you on my place. I really would." - -"All right, we'll live in hopes," said the mountaineer, "ef we die in -despair," and Pole went out into the sunlight. - -"Now, Poley," he chuckled, "who said you couldn't git all you was after? -But _lie!_ My Lord, I don't know when I'll ever git all that out o' -my body. I feel like I am literally soaked in black falsehood, like a -hide in a vat at a tanyard. It's leakin' out o' the pores o' my skin an' -runnin' down into my socks. But that dried-up old skunk made me do it. -Ef he hadn't a-been so 'feared o' pore kin, I wouldn't 'a' had to sink -so low. Well, I've got news fer Nelson, an' that's what I was after." - - - - -XX - - -IT was ten o'clock that night when the stage, or "hack," as it was -called, put Pole down in the square at Springtown. He went directly to -Floyd's store, hoping to see the young man before he went to bed, but -the long building was wrapped in darkness. Pole went over to the little -hotel where Floyd roomed. The proprietor, Jerry Malone, and two tobacco -drummers sat smoking on the veranda. - -"He's jest this minute gone up to his room," the landlord said, in -response to Baker's inquiry as to the whereabouts of his friend. "It's -the fust door to the right, at the top o' the steps." - -Pole went up and knocked on Floyd's door, and the young merchant called -out, "Come in." - -Baker opened the door, finding the room in darkness. From the bed in the -corner Floyd's voice came: "Is that you, Pole?" - -"Yes, I jest got back, Nelson. I went to the store expectin' to find you -at work, an' then Jerry told me you was up here." - -"Light the lamp, Pole," Floyd said. "There are some matches on that -table right under your hand." - -"Oh, I hain't got long to stay," returned the mountaineer, "an' I -don't need a light to talk by, any more'n a blind man does to write his -letters. I 'lowed I'd tell you what I done down thar. I seed Floyd." - -"Oh, you did! After you left I got really interested in your venture, -and I was afraid you might accidentally miss him." - -"Yes, I seed 'im." Pole found a chair and sat down at the little table, -resting his hand on it, and tilting the chair back, after his favorite -method of making himself comfortable. There was a lamp on a post in -front of the hotel and its light came through a window and faintly -illuminated the room. Pole could see the white covering of Floyd's bed -and the outline of the young man's head and shoulders against a big -feather pillow. - -"You say you saw him?" Floyd's voice was eager and restrained. - -"Yes, an' I got news fer you, Nelson--substantial news. Henry A. Floyd -is yore own uncle." - -"Good God, Pole!"--Floyd sat up in bed--"don't make any mistakes. You -say he is actually--" - -"I ain't makin' no mistakes," replied Pole. "He's the only brother of -yore daddy, Charles Nelson Floyd. That old cuss told me so, an' I know -he was tellin' me a straight tale." - -There was silence. Floyd pulled his feet from beneath the coverings and -sat up on the bedside. He seemed unable to speak, and, leaning forward -in his chair, the ex-moonshiner recounted in careful detail all that had -passed between him and the man he had visited. For several minutes after -Pole had concluded the merchant sat without visible movement, then Pole -heard him take a long, deep breath. - -"Well, I hope you are satisfied with what I done," said Pole, -tentatively. - -"Satisfied! Great Heavens!" cried Floyd,' "I simply don't know what to -say to it--how to tell you what I feel. Pole, I'll bet I'm having the -oddest experience that ever came to mortal man. I don't know how to -explain it, or make you understand. When a baby's born it's too young to -wonder or reflect over its advent into the world, but to-night, after -all my years of life, I feel--Pole, I feel somehow as if I were suddenly -born again. That dark spot on my history has been in my mind almost -night and day ever since I was old enough to compare myself to others. -Persons who have strong physical defects are often morbidly sensitive -over them. That flaw in my life was my eternally sore point. And my -mother"--Floyd's voice sank reverently--"did he say who she was?" - -"No, we didn't git fur enough," Pole returned. "You see, Nelson, I got -that information by pretendin' to be sorter indifferent about you, an' -ef I'd 'a' axed too many questions, the old codger 'ud 'a' suspicioned -my game. Besides, as I told you, he wasn't willin' to talk perfectly -free. Although yore daddy's in the grave, the old man seems to still -bear a sort o' grudge agin 'im, an' that, in my opinion, accounts fer -him not helpin' you out when you was a child." - -"Ah, I see," said Floyd; "my father was wild as a young man?" - -"Yes, that's the way he put it," answered Baker; "but I wouldn't let -that bother me, Nelson. Ef yore daddy'd 'a' lived longer, no doubt, he'd -'a' settled down like you have. But he passed away in a good cause. It -ort to be a comfort to know he died in battle." - -"Yes, that's a comfort," said Floyd, thoughtfully. - -"An' now you've got plenty o' kin," Pole said, with a pleasant laugh. "I -come over in the hack with Colonel Price and Captain Duncan, an' you ort -to 'a' heard 'em both spout about the Floyds an' the Nelsons. They say -yore blood's as blue as indigo, my boy, an' that they suspected it all -along, on account o' yore pluck and determination to win in ever' game -you tackled. Lord, you bet they'll be round to-morrow to give you the -hand o' good-fellowship an' welcome you into high life. I reckon you'll -sorter cut yore mountain scrub friends." - -"I haven't any scrub friends," said Floyd, with feeling. "I don't know -that you boast of your ancestry, Pole, but you are as high above the -kind of man that does as the stars are above the earth." - -"Now you are a-kiddin' me!" said Baker. He put out his hand on the table -and felt something smooth and cool under his touch. He drew it to him. -It was a pint flask filled with whiskey. He held it up with a laugh. -"Good Lord, what are you doin' with this bug-juice?" he asked. - -"Oh, you mean that bottle of rye," said Floyd. "I've kept that for a -memento of the day I swore off, Pole, five years ago. I thought as long -as I could pass it day after day and never want to uncork it, that it -was a sign I was safely anchored to sobriety." - -There was a little squeak like that of a frightened mouse. Pole had -twisted the cork out and was holding the neck of the bottle to his nose. - -"Gee whiz!" he exclaimed. "That stuff smells _fine!_ You say it's five -years old, Nelson?" - -"Yes, it's almost old enough to vote," Floyd laughed. "It was very old -and mellow when I got it." - -The cork squeaked again Pole had stopped the bottle. It lay flat under -his big, pulsating hand. His fingers played over it caressingly. "I -wouldn't advise you to keep it under yore eye all the time, Nelson," he -said. "I tried that dodge once an' it got the best o' my determination." - -"I sometimes feel the old desire come over me," said Floyd; "often when -my mind is at rest after work, and even while I am at it, but it is -never here in my room in the presence of that memento. It seems to make -a man of me. I pity a drinking man, Pole. I know what he has to fight, -and I feel now that if I were to lose all hope in life that I'd take to -liquor as naturally as a starving man would to food." - -"I reckon," said Pole, in a strange, stilled voice. His fingers were -now tightly clasped about the bottle. There was a pause, then he slid -it cautiously--very cautiously--towards him. He swallowed something that -was in his throat; his eyes were fixed in a great, helpless stare on -the dim figure across the room. Noiselessly the bottle was raised, and -noiselessly it went down into the pocket of his coat. - -"I feel like I owe you my life, Pole," Floyd continued, earnestly. -"You've done to-day what no one else could have done. If that old man -had died without speaking of this matter I'd perhaps never have known -the truth. Pole, you can call on me for anything you want -that is in my power to give. Do you understand me, Pole, old -friend?--anything--anything!" - -There was silence. Pole sat staring vacantly in front of him. Floyd rose -in slow surprise and came across the room. Pole stood up suddenly, his -hand on the weighty pocket. Quickly he shifted to a darker portion of -the room nearer the door. - -"What's the matter, Pole?" Floyd asked, in surprise. - -"Matter? Why, nothin', Nelson." Baker laughed mechanically. "I was jest -thinkin' that I ought to be in bed. I've told you all I kin, I guess." - -"You were so quiet just now that I thought--really, I didn't know what -to think. I was telling you--" - -"I know, Nelson." Baker's unsteady hand was on the latch of the door. -"Never you mind, I'll call on you if I want anything. I've got yore -friendship, I reckon, an' that's enough fer me." - -He opened the door and glided out into the hall. "Good-night, Nelson." - -"Good-night, Pole, good-night. God bless you, old man!" - -On the lonely road leading to his house the mountaineer stopped and drew -the bottle from his pocket. "You dem little devil!" he said, playfully, -holding it up before his eyes in the starlight. "Here I've gone all day -in Atlanta, passin' ten 'thousand barroom doors, swearin' by all that -was holy that I'd fetch Nelson Floyd his news with a sober head on my -shoulders an' a steady tongue _in_ that head; an' I rid, too, by hunkey, -all the way from Darley out here with a hack-driver smellin' like a -bung-hole, with two quarts under his seat an' no tellin' how many under -his hide. I say I got through all that, although my jaws was achin' tell -they felt like they was loose at the sockets, an' I 'lowed I'd slide -safe to the home-base, when _you_--you crawled up under my nose in the -dark like a yaller lizard, with that dern tale about yore ripe old age -an' kingly flavor. '_Memento_' hell!" Pole was using Floyd's word for -the first time. "I'd like to know what sort of a memento you'd make -outside of a man's stomach. No, Poley, I reckon you've reached yore -limit." - -The mouse squeaked again. Pole chuckled. He held the flask aloft and -shook it. - -"Gentlemen," he said to the countless stars winking merrily down from -above, "take one with me," and he drank. - - - - -XXI - - -TWO days after this, Nathan Porter brought home the news of what had -happened to Floyd. The family were seated at the dinner-table when he -came in warm from his walk along the dusty road. He started to sit down -in his place without his coat, but Cynthia rose and insisted on his -donning it. - -"Folks is sech eternal fools!" he said, as he helped his plate to -a green hillock of string-beans, from the sides of which protruded -bowlders of gray bacon, and down which ran rivulets of grease. - -"What have they been doing now?" asked his wife, curiously. - -"They hain't doin' nothin' in town but talkin'," Porter said, in a tone -of disgust. "Looks like all business has come to a dead halt, so that -everybody kin exchange views about what Nelson Floyd has discovered -about his kin. He's found a man--or Pole Baker did fer 'im, when Pole -was drunk down in Atlanta--who don't deny he's his uncle--his daddy's -own brother--an' you'd think Floyd had unearthed a gold-mine, from all -the talk an' well-wishin' among the elect. Old Duncan an' Colonel Price -helt a whole crowd spellbound at the post-office this mornin' with the'r -tales about the past power an' grandeur of the Nelson an' Floyd families -in America, an' all they'd done fer the'r country an' the like." - -"Father, is this true?" Cynthia asked, her face almost pale in -suppressed excitement. - -"I reckon thar's no doubt about it," answered Porter. "Pole Baker's -roarin' drunk, an' that always indicates that some'n' good or bad's -happened to him or his friends. Thar hain't no money in Floyd's find. -The Atlanta man's on the ragged edge; in fact, some say he never -would 'a' confessed to the crime ef he hadn't heard that Nelson was -well-to-do. I dunno. I hardly ever laugh, but I mighty nigh split my -sides while Jim Carden was pokin' fun at 'em all. Jim says all the -bon-tons in this section has been treatin' Floyd like a runt pig till -now. The Duncans had a big blow-out at the'r house last night. Miss -Evelyn's got some Atlanta gals an' boys thar at a house-party, an' the -shindig was a big event. Jim said he was standin' nigh Floyd yesterday -when he got his invite, an' that Nelson was about to refuse p'int-blank -to go, beca'se he'd never been axed thar before he got his blood -certificate; but Jim said Pole Baker was standin' thar about half-shot, -swayin' back an' forth agin the desk, an' Pole up an' told Floyd that -he'd have to accept--that he was as good as any in the land, an' to -refuse a thing o' that sort would belittle 'im; an' so Nelson put on -a b'iled shirt an' a dicky cravat an' went. Jim said his wife run over -with a passle o' other women to help about the dinin'-room an' kitchen, -an' that Floyd was the high-cockalorum of the whole bunch. He said all -the women was at his heels, an' that nothin' was talked except the high -an' mighty grandeur that's come an' gone among the Nelsons an' Floyds. -Jim said Floyd looked like he wanted to crawl through a knot-hole in the -floor. I'll say this fer that feller--blood or no blood, he hain't no -dem fool, an' you mark my words, this thing hain't a-goin' to spile 'im -nuther. You let a man make hisse'f in life, an' he hain't a-goin' daft -about the flabby, ready-made sort." - -"You wait and see," Mrs. Porter said, a sneer on her lips, as she -critically eyed Cynthia's face. "A man that's as bad as he is, to begin -with, will be worse when he is run after like that." - -"I dunno," said Porter, his mouth full of beans. "I seed 'im give old -Johnson Blare a cut this mornin' that tickled me powerful. The old -skunk got out o' his rickety buggy in front o' the store an' went in to -congratulate Floyd. I knowed what he was up to, an' follered 'im back -to the desk. He told Floyd that he was a sort o' far-off cousin o' the -Nelsons, an' that he was prouder of that fact than anything else in the -world. I seed Floyd was mad as he looked at the old fellow with his high -collar an' frazzley necktie. 'I'm gittin' tired o' the whole business,' -Floyd said to 'im. 'I want to be appreciated, if I deserve it, for my -_own_ sake, an' not on account o' my dead kinsfolk.' An' that certainly -did squelch old Blare. He shook all over when he went out." - -"I suppose Nelson Floyd will end up by marrying Evelyn Duncan or some of -the Prices," Mrs. Porter said, significantly, as she fastened her lynx -eye on Cynthia's shrinking face. - -"That seems to be the talk, anyway," Porter admitted. "She belongs to -the doll-faced, bandbox variety. She'd be a nice little trick to dandle -on a fellow's knee, but that's about all she'd be good for." After -the meal was over, Mrs. Porter followed Cynthia out into the kitchen, -whither the girl was taking a big pan full of soiled dishes. - -"This ought to make you very careful, Cynthia," she said. - -"I don't know what you mean, mother." The girl looked up coldly. - -"Well, _I_ know what I mean," said Mrs. Porter. "People seem to think -this will bring about a sort of change in Nelson Floyd's way of living. -We are really as good as anybody in this county, but we are poor, and -others are rich, and have more social advantages. Evelyn Duncan always -has snubbed you girls around here, and no young man has been going in -both sets. So far nobody that I know of has talked unkindly about you -and Nelson Floyd, but they would be more apt to now than ever. How that -thing about the mill ever escaped--" - -"Mother, don't bring that up again!" Cynthia said, almost fiercely. "I -have heard enough of it. I can't stand any more." - -"Well, you know what I mean, and you have my warning," said Mrs. Porter, -sternly, "and that's all I can do. As good and respectable a young man -as ever lived wants to marry you, and the worst rake in the county has -been paying you questionable attentions. The first thing you know, Mr. -Hillhouse will get disgusted, and--" - -But Cynthia had left her work and gone out into the yard. With a face -quite pale and set, she went through the orchard, climbed over the -brier-grown rail-fence, and crossed the field and pasture to Pole -Baker's house. Mrs. Baker, pale and bedraggled, with a ten-months-old -baby on her arm, stood on the little porch of the cottage. At her feet -the other children were playing. - -"You've heard o' my trouble, I kin see that," the married woman said, as -the girl opened the gate. "Come in out o' the sun." - -"Yes, I've heard," said Cynthia, "and I came as soon as I could." - -They went into the poorly furnished bedroom, with its bare floor -belittered with the playthings of the children, and sat down in the -straight-backed, rockerless chairs. - -"You mustn't notice the way things look," sighed Mrs. Baker. "The truth -is, Cynthia, I haven't had the heart to lay my hand to a thing. Pole's -been away three nights and three days now, and I don't know what has -happened to him. He's quick tempered and gets into quarrels when he's -drinkin'. He may be in jail in Darley, or away off some'rs on the -railroad." - -"I know, I know," said Cynthia. "Let me hold the baby; you look as if -you are about to drop." - -"I didn't sleep an hour last night," said Mrs. Baker, as she -relinquished the child. "I don't want to complain. He's so good-hearted, -Cynthia, and he can't help it to save his life. He's the kindest, -sweetest man in the world when he's all right; but these sprees mighty -nigh kill me. Take my advice an' don't marry a drinkin' man fer all you -do. No--no, not even if you love 'im! It's easier to tear one out o' -your heart before you have children by 'im, an' God knows a pore woman -ought to have _some_ happiness and peace of mind. If Pole don't come -home to-day I'm afraid I'll go crazy. Pore little Billy kept wakin' up -last night and askin' about his papa. He can't understand. He fairly -worships his father." - -"We must hope for the best," Cynthia said, sympathetically, and she drew -the baby up close to her face and kissed it tenderly. - -Late in the afternoon Cynthia went home. She helped her mother prepare -supper, and after it was over she followed the example of the others and -retired to her room. For an hour she sat sewing at her table, every now -and then stifling a sigh. She rose and looked out of her window, at -the wing of the house on the left. It was dark; the family were already -asleep. She would undress and go to bed, but she knew she would lie -awake for a long time, and that she dreaded. - -Just then a sound broke the stillness of the night. Ah, she knew it -so well! She sank back into her chair, quivering from head to foot in -excitement. It was the whippoorwill call. It came again, more insistent, -more pleading, but Cynthia sat motionless. Again it came; this time it -was as if the weird notes were full of aggrieved inquiry. What was the -matter? Why was she delaying? Cynthia rose, moved to the door of her -room, but with her hand on the latch she paused. Then she turned back to -her table and blew out her light, and began to disrobe in the darkness. -No, she would not go in that manner to him again--never--never! To -expect such a thing of Evelyn Duncan would not have entered his mind. -Her mother was right. Evelyn Duncan was one thing in his estimation--she -another. In the darkness she got into bed and drew the covering over -her head that she might shut out the sound, for it pained her. There -was silence for several minutes, then she heard the night bird's call -farther away in the direction of the swamp. Floyd was going home. For -hours she lay awake, unable to sleep. Once she sat upright with a start. -Perhaps that would be the end. Perhaps she had driven him away, when if -only she had obeyed the promptings of her heart he and she might--but -he was gone, and, according to her mother's cautious view, she had acted -for the best; and yet how could she ever forget the vast respect with -which he had treated her that night at the mill? If he had been a -bad man he would have shown it then. But he wasn't; he was good and -thoughtful of her feelings. And he had come to-night full of his recent -discovery. He wanted to tell her all about it, as he had told her of -other things touching his inner life, and she had repulsed him--driven -him away--to Evelyn Duncan. A sob struggled up in her bosom and forced -its way to the surface. - - - - -XII - - -A WEEK later Pole Baker came back from Darley on foot. He was covered -with dust, his clothing was soiled and torn, his hair unkempt. He looked -thinner; his big eyes seemed to burn in their sockets as if fed by the -slow oil of despair. He paused at the well at the court-house to get a -drink of water. He drank copiously from the big wooden bucket, and wiped -his mouth on the back of his dusty hand. It was a very quiet afternoon -at Springtown; scarcely any one was in sight. Pole moved over to the -steps of the public building and sat down in abject indecision. "The -Lord knows I ort to go on home to Sally an' the childem," he groaned, -"but how kin I?--how kin I?" - -He sat there for half an hour, his head hanging, his great hands -twitching nervously. Presently a shadow fell on the ground before him, -and, looking up, he saw a negro boy extending a letter to him. - -"A man told me ter give you dis here, Mr. Baker," the boy said. - -"What man?" Pole asked, as he took the communication. - -"I didn't know 'im, suh. I never seed 'im before. He looked ter me like -a mountain man. He was ridin' a little white mule, an' as soon as he -gimme de letter an' tol me whar you was a settin' he whipped his mule -an' rid off." - -Pole held the letter in his hand till the boy had gone, then he tore -the envelope open and read it. It slipped from his inert fingers to the -ground, and Pole, with glaring eyes, picked it up and read it again and -again. To him it was worse than a death-blow. - -_"Pole Baker," it began; "we, the Mountain-side White Cap Association, -beg leave to inform you that we have sat in council at three separate -meetings on your case of protracted drunkenness and family neglect. If -any other man in the county had done as you have, he would have met -with punishment long ago, but your friends put in excuses for you and -postponed it. However, we met again last night and decided that it -was our duty to act in your case. For ten days now your wife, a sweet, -patient woman, has been verging on to despair through you. We hold that -no living man has a right to tie a good woman to him by cords of love -and pity and then torture her on the rack night and day just to gratify -a beastly appetite. This step is being taken with great regret, and -by men not known to you, but who admire you in many ways and like you. -Punishment has been dealt out here in the mountains to good effect, as -you yourself have been heard to admit, and we confidently believe that -after we have acted in your case you will be a better man to them that -are dependent on you. To-night at eight o'clock sharp our body will be -at the gum spring, half-way between your farm and the court-house. If -you are there to meet us, the disagreeable matter of whipping you will -be done there, out of sight and hearing of your wife and children; if -not, we will have to do as we have done in the case of other men, go -to your house and take you out. We earnestly hope you will meet us, and -that you will be prepared to make us promises that you will keep._ - -"_Respectfully,_ - -"_The Mountain-side White Cap Association._" - -Pole stared at the ground for a long time; the veins of his neck and -brow stood out as if from physical torture. He looked about him suddenly -in a spasm of effort to think of some escape from his impending doom. -There was Nelson Floyd. He would grant him any request. He could draw -upon the young merchant for unlimited funds, and before the fated hour -arrived he could be far away from the country and his wife and children. -A great lump rose inside of him and tore itself outward through his -throat. No, he couldn't leave them; it was further out of his power now -than ever. Besides, had he not brought all this on himself? Was not the -threatened punishment equally as just in his case as it had been in -the case of others among his neighbors? He rose to his feet. There was -nothing left for him to do but to go home, and--yes, meet the White Caps -at the appointed place and take what was coming to him bravely. Shoot? -Defend his rights? Kill the men who were taking the part of those he -himself had sworn to love and stand by?--no! The punishment?--yes; but -after that, to his confused brain, all was a painful blank. His wife and -children had always comforted him in trouble, but could they do so -now? Would not the sight of their anxious faces only add to his load of -remorse? As he went along the road towards his home, his rugged breast -rose and expanded under his ragged shirt and then slowly fell. He was a -dead man alive--a breathing, rotting horror in his own sight. A shudder -went over him; he heard the commanding voice of the leader of the -outlaws; he felt the lash and braced himself for another blow, which he -hoped would cut deep enough to pierce the festering agony within him. -Then his lower lip began to quiver, and tears came into his great, -glaring eyes. He was beginning to pity himself, for, when all had been -said and done, could he really have acted differently? Had God actually -given him the moral and physical strength to avoid the pits into which -he had stumbled with the helplessness of a little child? - -The road led him into the depths of a wood where the boughs of mighty -trees arched overhead and obscured the sunlit sky. He envied a squirrel -bounding unhindered to its nest. Nature seemed to hold out her vast, -soothing arms to him. He wanted to sink into them and sob out his -pent-up agony. In the deepest part of the wood, where rugged cliffs -bordered the road, he came to the spring mentioned in the letter. Here -he paused and looked about him. On this spot the most awful experience -of his rugged life would be enacted. - -With a shudder he passed on. The trees grew less dense, and then on a -rise ahead of him he saw his humble cottage, like a cheerless blot on -the green lush-sward about it. He wanted now to search the face of his -wife. For ten days, the letter said, she had suffered. She had suffered -so much that the neighbors had taken up her cause--they had taken it -up when he--great God!--when he loved her and the children with every -tortured cord of his being! They had come to his wife's aid against him, -her prime enemy. Yes, they should whip him, and he would tell them while -they were at it to lay it on--to lay it on! and God sanction the cause. - -He entered the gate. His wife was sitting in the little hall, a wooden -bowl in her lap, shelling pease; on a blanket at her feet lay the baby. -He went up the steps and stood in the doorway. She raised her eyes -and saw him, and then lowered her head, saying nothing, though she -was deathly pale. He stared helplessly for a moment, and then went out -behind the house and sat down in a chair under a tree, near his beehives -and his bent-toothed, stone-weighted harrow. A deeper feeling of despair -had come over him, for it was the first time his wife had ever refused -to greet him in some way or other on his return home. On the banks of a -spring branch below the barn, he saw his older children playing, but he -could not bear the sight of them, and, with his elbows on his knees, he -covered his face with his hands. The memory came to him of men who had -killed themselves when in deep trouble, but he brushed the thought away. -They were shirking cowards. For half an hour he sat thus. He heard the -children laughing as they continued their romp up and down the stream. -Then his wife slowly came out to him. She was still pale, and it seemed -to him that she was thinner than she had ever been before. - -"Pole, darlin'," she began, with a catch in her voice, "some o' the -neighbors has been tellin' me that I ort not to be kind an' good to you -when you come home after you've done us this away, an' I acknowledge I -did try just now to act sorter cold, but I can't. Oh, Pole, I ain't mad -at you, darlin'! My heart is so full o' joy at seein' you back home, -safe an' sound, that I don't know what to do. I know you are sorry, -darlin', fer you always are, an' you look more downcast than I ever seed -you in all my life. Oh, Pole, I've suffered, I'll admit, but that can't -equal my joy right now at seein' you home with that sweet, sorry look -in yore eyes. Pole, darlin', won't you kiss me? You would ef I hadn't -turned from you as I did in the house jest now. Don't--don't blame me! I -hardly knowed what I was doin'." - -A sob rose in him and burst. She saw his emotion, and put her arms -around his neck. - -"It was that meddlesome old Mrs. Snodgrass who put me up to actin' that -away," she said, tenderly. "But I'll never do it ag'in. The idea! An' me -ever' bit as happy as I was the day we married one another! Thar comes -little Billy, as hard as he kin move his little fat legs. Wipe yore -eyes, Pole; don't let him see you a-cryin'. He'd remember it all his -life--childern are so quar. Thar, wipe 'em on my apron--no, le' _me_ do -it. He's axed about you a hundred times a day. The neighbors' childern -talked before him an' made him wonder." - -The child, red in the face and panting, ran into his father's -outstretched arms. - -"Whar you been, papa?" he asked. - -"Over to Darley, Billy," Pole managed to say. - -"Are you goin' to stay at home any more, papa?" was the next query. - -"Yes, Billy--I hope so. What have you childern been playing with down at -the branch?" - -"Johnny made a boat, papa, but it wouldn't swim. It sunk when he put -sand on it. Will you make me a boat, papa?" - -"Yes, Billy." - -"When, papa?" - -"To-morrow, Billy." Pole pressed his rough face to the child's smooth, -perspiring brow, and then put him down. "Now run and play," he said. - -"I've put on some coffee to boil," said Mrs. Baker when the child had -left. "I know you want some. Pole, you look all unstrung. I never seed -you so nervous. Yore hands are twitchin', an' I never seed sech a awful -look in yore face. Don't you want me to cook some'n' special fer you to -eat, Pole?" - -"Not a thing, Sally," he gulped. "The coffee is enough." - -She went into the house and came back with it. As she drew near he noted -that the sun was fast going down; the shadow of the hill, to the west of -the cottage, was creeping rapidly across the level field below. It would -soon be eight o'clock, and then-- - -"Here it is," said Sally, at his elbow. "It's as strong as I could make -it. It will steady your nerves. Oh, Pole, I'm so glad you got back! I -couldn't have gone through another night like the others. It would have -killed me." - -He raised the coffee-cup to keep from seeing her wistful, dark-ringed -eyes. - -Night came on apace. He sat in his chair while she busied herself with -heeding and putting the children to bed. Her voice rang with joy and -relief as she spoke to them; once she sang a bar of an old ballad. It -vividly recalled their courtship days. He moved his chair to the porch. -He sat there awhile, and then went to feed his horse and cattle, telling -himself, the while, that he had made his wife do his work for the past -ten days that he might sink to the level of a beast. - -After supper the two sat together in the moonlight on the porch, he -silent, she talkative and full of joy. The old-fashioned clock on the -mantel within struck seven. He waited about half an hour longer, and -then he rose to his feet. - -"I want to go to the store and see Nelson Floyd," he said. "I'll be back -inside of an hour, sure." - -She stared at him irresolutely for a moment, then she uttered a low -groan. - -"Oh, Pole, Pole, Pole! I don't want you to go," she cried. "You know -why. If you get whar any liquor is now, you--you may go off again. Stay -with me, Pole! I'll give you some strong coffee. I'll do anything ruther -than have you out o' my sight now that you are safe at home. You won't -spile all my happiness by goin' off again. Will you, darlin'?" - -He caught her wrist with his left hand and held his right steadily -upward. - -"I'll swear to you, Sally, before God, that I won't tetch a single drop, -and that I'll be back inside of an hour. You kin trust me now, Sally. -You never heard me speak this way before." - -Their eyes met. "Yes, I kin trust you when you talk that away," she -said. "Don't be gone longer than an hour, Pole. I'll set right here on -the porch and wait for you." - -"All right. I'll keep my word, Sally." - -Out at the gate he passed, moving away, his head down, his long arms -swinging disconsolately at his sides. When out of sight of the cottage -he quickened his step. He must not be late. They must not, under any -circumstances, come nearer to his house than the spring, and he must try -to secure their promise not to let his degradation reach the ears of his -wife and children. He could not stand that. - - - - -XXIII - - -REACHING the appointed place, he sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree -to wait. By-and-by he heard voices in the distance, and then the tramp, -tramp of footsteps. A dark blur appeared in the moonlight on the road. -It was a body of men numbering between twenty-five and thirty. They were -all afoot, and, by way of precaution against identification, they wore -white caps over their heads, with holes for the eyes. In their mouths -they had stuffed wads of cotton to muffle and disguise their voices. - -"Well, I see you've acted sensible, Baker," said a man who seemed in -the lead. "Some o' the boys 'lowed you'd cut an' shoot; but you hain't -armed, are you, Pole?" - -"No, I hain't armed, Joe Dilworthy." - -"Huh, you think you know me!" the speaker said, with a start. - -"Yes, I know you," answered Pole. "I'd know you anywhar in the world by -yore shape an' voice." - -"Well, you may _think_ I'm anybody you like," returned the masked man. -"That's neither here nur thar. I've been app'inted to do the talkin' -to-night, Pole, an' I want to say, at the start, that this is the most -disagreeable job that this association ever tackled. Yore case has been -up before our body time after time, an' some'n' always throwed it out, -fer you've got stacks an' stacks o' friends. But action was finally -tuck, an' here we are. Pole, do you know any valid reason why you -shouldn't be treated 'ike other malefactors in these mountains?" - -There was silence. Pole's head was hanging down. They could not see his -face in the moonlight. - -"No, I don't see no reason," the condemned man finally said. "I'm here -to meet you, to tell you that I deserve more'n you fellows could lay on -me ef you begun now an' kept up a steady lick till the last one of you -was fagged out. The only trouble, gentlemen, is that I hain't a-goin' -to _feel_ the lash. Thar's a pain inside o' me so keen an' fur down that -what you do jest to my body won't count. You are the friends of my wife -an' childern; you are better friends to 'em than I've been, an' I want -you to strip me to my dirty hide an' whip my duty into me, ef that is -possible. The only thing I would ask is to spare my folks the knowledge -of it, ef you kin see it that away. Keep this thing quiet--jest amongst -us. I may be able to brace up an' try to do right in the future, but I -don't believe I kin ef they know o' my humiliation. - -"I don't ax that as a favor to myself, you understand, gentlemen, but to -them you are befriendin'--a weak woman an' helpless little childern." - -Pole ceased speaking. There was profound silence, broken only by the -croaking of frogs in the spring branch near by. Dilworthy thrust his -hands into the pockets of his trousers awkwardly, and slowly turned his -eyeholes upon the eyeholes about him, but no one made sign or sound. - -"Boys, you all hear what Pole says," finally came from him. "He seems -to feel--I mought say to realize--that--" The voice spent itself in the -folds of the speaker's mask. - -"Hold! I want to say a word." A tall, lank man stepped from the group, -spitting wads of cotton from his mouth and lifting the cap from his -head. "I'm Jeff Wade, Pole. You see who I am. You kin appear agin me -before the grand jury an' swear I'm a member o' this gang, ef you want -to. I don't give a damn. In j'inin' the association, I tuck the oath -to abide by what the majority done. But I didn't take no oath that I -wouldn't talk when I got ready, an' I want now to explain, as is my -right, I reckon, how I happen to be here. I've fit this case agin you -fer several meetin's with all my soul an' strength, beca'se I knowed you -was too good a man at heart to whip like a dog fer what you've done. -I fit it an' fit it, but last meetin' my wife was down havin' another -twelve-pound boy, as maybe you heard, an' somehow in my absence the vote -went agin you. Strong speeches was made by yore wife's kin about her -treatment, an' action was finally tuck. But I'm here to say that every -lick that falls on yore helpless back to-night will hurt me more than ef -they was on me You've made a better man out o' me in a few ways, Pole, -an', by God! I'm a-goin' to feel like some o' that dirty crowd felt away -back thar when they went along an' sanctioned the death agony of our -Saviour. You are too good a man, Pole, to be degraded this away. What -you've done agin yore own was through weakness that you couldn't well -help. We've all got our faults, but I don't know a man in this gang -that's got as many good p'ints to counteract the bad as you have." - -"That's all right, Jeff," Pole said, stolidly. "What you say don't -excuse me. I stand here to-night convicted by my neighbors of -mistreatin' my own blood an' heart kin, an' I don't want nobody to -defend me when sech men as Sandy McHugh tuck what was comin' to them -without a whimper. I don't know what effect it's goin' to have on me. -I cayn't see that fur ahead. I've tried to quit liquor about as hard as -any man alive, an' I'm not goin' to make promises an' break 'em. After -this is over, I reckon I'll do whatever the Lord has laid out fer me to -do." - -"Pole, I'm Mel Jones!" Another tall man divested himself of cap and mask -and stood out in full view. "I voted agin this, too. I'm yore friend, -Pole. That's all I got to say." - -"That's all right, Mel," said Pole, "an' I'm much obliged to you. But, -gentlemen, I told my wife I was goin' to town an' would be straight -back. You hain't said whether it would be possible to keep this thing -quiet--" - -"Quiet hell!" snorted Dilworthy. "Do you damn fools think I'm goin' to -act as leader fer a lot o' snifflin' idiots that don't know whar they -are at or how they got thar? It may not be parliamentary by a long shot, -but as chairman o' this meetin' I'm goin' to say that I think you've -all made a mess of the whole thing. I 'lowed I could abide by what the -majority done in any matter that was pendin' before us, but I'll be -derned ef I'm in favor o' tetchin' _that thar man_. I'd every bit as -soon drag my old mammy from the grave an' whip her as a man feelin' like -that thar 'un. I believe Pole Baker's tried as hard as any livin' mortal -to behave hisse'f, an' that's enough. A gang o' men that's goin' -about whippin' folks who's doin' the'r level best ort to be in better -business, an' from to-night on--oath or no oath--I'm a-goin' to let -the law o' the land manage the conduct o' my neighbors, as fur as I am -concerned. It may be contrary to parliamentary rules, as I say, but this -damn thing is so lopsided to-night that I'm a-goin' to put it to another -vote. Maybe, ef Pole had a-been allowed to 'a' made a statement you'd -'a' seed this thing different. Now, all in favor of enactin' the verdict -of our court in this case hold up yore hands." - -There was a portentous pause. Not a hand was raised. - -"See thar? What did I tell you?" Dilworthy exclaimed, in disgust. "Not -a man amongst you knows his own mind. Now, to the contrary: all in favor -o' sendin' Baker home without tetchin' him raise yore hands." - -Every hand went up. Pole stared blankly from one stiff token of pity to -another, then his head went down. The brim of his old hat hid his face. -He was silent. The crowd was filtering away. Soon only Jeff Wade was -left. He gave Pole his hand, and in an awkward voice said: "Go home now, -old friend. Don't let Sally suspicion this. It would hurt her mighty -bad." - -Pole said nothing at all, but, returning Wade's hand-pressure, he moved -away in the soft moonlight. - - - - -XXIV - - -THE following Sunday morning Nelson Floyd went to church. From the -doorway he descried a vacant seat on the side of the house occupied -by the men and boys, and when he had taken it and looked over the -well-filled room, he saw that he had Cynthia Porter in plain view. She -had come alone. A few seats behind her he saw Pole Baker and his wife. -Pole had never looked better. He wore a new suit of clothes and had -recently had his hair trimmed. Floyd tried to catch his eye, but Pole -looked neither to the right nor left, seeming only intent on Hillhouse, -who had risen to read the chapter from the Bible which contained the -text for his sermon. In their accustomed places sat Captain Duncan and -his daughter Evelyn. The old gentleman had placed his silk-hat on the -floor at the end of the bench on which he sat, and his kid-gloved hands -rested on his gold-headed, ebony cane, which stood erect between his -knees. - -When the service was over and the congregation was passing out, Floyd -waited for Cynthia, whom he saw coming out immediately behind the -Duncans. "Hello, Floyd; how are you?" the captain exclaimed, cordially, -as he came up. "Going home? Daughter and I have a place for you in the -carriage and will drop you at the hotel--that is, if you won't let us -take you on to dinner." - -Floyd flushed. Cynthia was now quite near, and he saw from her face that -she had overheard the invitation. - -"I thank you very much, captain," Floyd said, as he smiled and nodded -to her, "but I see that Miss Cynthia is alone, and I was just waiting to -ask her to let me walk home with her." - -"Ah, I see!" Duncan exclaimed, with a gallant bow and smile to Cynthia. -"I wouldn't break up a nice thing like that if I could. I haven't -forgotten my young days, and this is the time of the year, my boy, when -the grass is green and the sun drives you into the shade." - -With a very haughty nod to Floyd and Cynthia together, Evelyn Duncan -walked stiffly on ahead of her father. - -Outside, Cynthia looked straight into the eyes of her escort. - -"Why did you refuse Captain Duncan's invitation?" she asked. - -"Why did I?" He laughed, mysteriously. "Because during service I made up -my mind that I'd get to you before the parson did; and then I had other -reasons." - -"What were they?" - -"Gossip," he said, with a low, significant laugh. - -"Gossip? I don't understand," Cynthia said, perplexed. - -"Well, I heard," Floyd replied, "that since I've been finally invited to -Duncan's house I'll run there night and day, and that it will end in -my marrying that little bunch of lace and ribbons. I heard other -speculations, too, on my future conduct, and as I saw our village -talker, Mrs. Snodgrass, was listening just now, I was tickled at the -chance to decline the invitation and walk home with you. It will be all -over the country by night." - -They were traversing a cool, shaded road now, and as most of the -congregation had taken other directions, they were comparatively alone. - -"Evelyn Duncan is in love with you," Cynthia said, abruptly, her glance -on the ground. - -"That's ridiculous," Floyd laughed. "Simply ridiculous." - -"I know--I saw it in her face when you said you were going home with me. -She could have bitten my head off." - -"Good gracious, I've never talked with her more than two or three times -in all my life." - -"That may be, but she has heard dozens of people say it will be just the -thing for you to marry her, and she has wondered--" Cynthia stopped. - -"Look here, little woman, we've had enough of this," Floyd said, -abruptly. "I saw the light in your room the other night, and I stood and -whistled and whistled, but you wouldn't come to me. I had a lot to tell -you." - -"I told you I'd never meet you that way again, and I meant it." Cynthia -was looking straight into his eyes. . - -"I know you did, but I thought you might relent. I was chock full of my -new discovery--or rather Pole Baker's--and I wanted to pour it out on -you." - -"Of course, you are happy over it?" Cynthia said, tentatively. - -"It has been the one great experience of my life," said Floyd, -impressively. "No one who has not been through it, Cynthia, can have any -idea of what it means. It is on my mind at night when I go to bed; it is -in my dreams; it is in my thoughts when I get up." - -"I wanted to know about your mother," ventured the girl, reverently. -"What was she like?" - -"That is right where I'm in the dark," Floyd answered. "Pole didn't get -my new relative to say a thing about her. I would have written to him at -length, but Pole advised me to wait till I could see him personally. My -uncle seems to be a crusty, despondent, unlucky sort of old fellow, -and, as there was a kind of estrangement between him and my father, Pole -thinks it would irritate him to have to answer my letters. However, I am -going down to Atlanta to call on him next Wednesday." - -"Oh, I see," said Cynthia. "Speaking of Pole Baker--I suppose you heard -of what the White Caps did the other night?" - -"Yes, and it pained me deeply," said Floyd, "for I was the indirect -cause of the whole trouble." - -"You?" - -"Yes, Pole is this way: It is usually some big trouble or great joy that -throws him off his balance, and it was the good news he brought to me -that upset him. It was in my own room at the hotel, too, that he found -the whiskey. A bottle of it was on my table and he slipped it into his -pocket and took it off with him. I never missed it till I heard he was -on a spree. His friends are trying to keep his wife from finding out -about the White Caps." - -"They needn't trouble further," Cynthia said, bitterly. "I was over -there yesterday. Mrs. Snodgrass had just told her about it, and I -thought the poor woman would die. She ordered Mrs. Snodgrass out of the -house, telling her never to darken her door again, and she stood on the -porch, as white as death, screaming after her at the top of her voice. -Mrs. Snodgrass was so frightened that she actually broke into a run." - -"The old hag!" Floyd said, darkly. "I wish the same gang would take her -out some night and tie her tongue at least." - -"Mrs. Baker came back to me then," Cynthia went on. "She put her head in -my lap and sobbed as if her heart would break. Nothing I could possibly -say would comfort her. She worships the ground Pole walks on. And she -_ought_ to love him. He's good and noble and full of tenderness. She saw -him coming while we were talking, and quickly dried her eyes. - -"'He mustn't see me crying,' she said. 'If he thought I knew this he -would never get over it.' - -"He came in then and noticed her red eyes, and I saw him turn pale as -he sat studying her face. Then to throw him off she told him a fib. She -told him I'd been taking her into my confidence about something which -she was not at liberty to reveal." - -"Ah, I see," exclaimed Floyd, admiringly. "She's a shrewd little -woman--nearly as shrewd as he is." - -"But he acted queerly after that, I must say," - -Cynthia went on. "He at once quit looking at her, and sat staring at me -in the oddest way. I spoke to him, but he wouldn't answer. When I was -going home, he followed me as far as the bam. 'You couldn't tell me that -secret, could you, little sister?' he said, with a strange, excited look -on his face. Of course, I saw that he thought it was some trouble of -mine, but I couldn't set him right and be true to his wife, and so I -said nothing. He walked on with me to the branch, still looking worried; -then, when we were about to part, he held out his hand. 'I want to say -right here, little sister,' he said, 'that I love you like a brother, -and if any harm comes to you, _in any way_, I'll be with you.'" - -"He's very queer," said Floyd, thoughtfully. They were now near the -house and he paused. "I'll not go any farther," he said. "It will do no -good to disturb your mother. She hates the ground I walk on. She will -only make it unpleasant for you if she sees us together. Good-bye, I'll -see you when I get back from Atlanta." - - - - -XXV - - -THE following Wednesday afternoon, when he had concluded his business -at one of the larger wholesale houses in Atlanta, Nelson Floyd took a -street-car for his uncle's residence. Reaching it, he was met at the -door by the white woman who had admitted Pole Baker to the house on his -visit to Atlanta. She explained that her master had only gone across -the street to see a neighbor, and that he would be back at once. She led -Floyd into the old-fashioned parlor and gave him one of the dilapidated, -hair-cloth chairs, remaining in the room to put a few things to -rights, and dusting the furniture with her apron. On either side of -the mantel-piece hung a crude oil-portrait, in cracked and chipped -gilt frames of very massive make. The one on the right was that of a -dark-haired gentleman in the conventional dress of seventy-five years -previous. The other was evidently his wife, a woman of no little beauty. -They were doubtless family portraits, and Floyd regarded them with -reverential interest. The servant saw him looking at them and remarked: -"They are Mr. Floyd's mother and father, sir. The pictures were made a -long time ago. Old Mr. Floyd was a very smart man in his day, and his -wife was considered a great beauty and a belle, so I've heard folks say, -though I'm sure I don't see how any woman could be popular with her hair -fixed that bungly way. But Mr. Floyd is very proud of the pictures. He -wouldn't sell them for any price. We thought the house was going to burn -down one day when the kitchen-stove turned over, and he sprained his -ankle climbing up in a chair to get them down." - -"They are my grandparents," he told her. - -"You don't say! Then you are Mr. Floyd's--" - -"I'm his nephew. My name is Floyd--Nelson Floyd. I've never met my -uncle." - -"Oh, I see!" The woman's brow was corrugated. "Mr. Floyd _did_ have a -brother who died young, but I don't think I ever heard him speak of him. -But he don't talk much to anybody, and now--la me!--he's so worried over -his business that he's as near crazy as any man I ever saw. You say -you haven't ever seen him! Then you'd better not expect him to be very -sociable. As I say, he's all upset over business. The way he's doing -is the talk of the neighborhood. There, I heard the gate shut. I reckon -that's him now." - -She went to one of the front windows and parted the curtains and looked -out. - -"Yes, that's him. I'll go and tell him you are here." - -Nelson heard the door open and close and then muffled voices, a gruff, -masculine one, and that of the servant lowered persuasively. Heavy steps -passed on down the hall, and then the woman came back. - -"I told him you was here, sir," she said. "He's gone to his room, but -will be back in a minute. He's queer, sir; if you haven't seen him -before you had as well be prepared for that. I heard Dr. Plympton say -the other day that if he didn't stop worrying as he is that he'd have a -stroke of paralysis." - -The woman retired and the visitor sat for several moments alone. -Presently he heard the heavy-steps in the hall and Henry A. Floyd came -in. He was very pale, his skin appearing almost ashen in color, and -his eyes, under their heavy brows, had a restless, shifting expression. -Nelson felt repelled in a way he could not account for. The old man -failed to offer any greeting, and it was only the caller's extended hand -that seemed to remind him of the courtesy due a stranger. Even then only -the ends of his cold fingers touched those of the young man. A thrill -of intense and disagreeable surprise passed over Nelson, for his uncle -stood staring at him steadily, without uttering a word. - -"Did your servant tell you who I am?" the young man ventured, in no -little embarrassment. - -"Yes, she told me," old Floyd answered. "She told me." - -"From your stand-point, sir," Nelson said, "perhaps I have little excuse -for coming to see you without an intimation from you that such a visit -would be welcome, but I confess I was so anxious to hear, something from -you about my parents that I couldn't wait longer." - -"Huh, I see, I see!" exclaimed the old man, his glance on the floor. - -"You may understand my eagerness more fully," said Nelson, "when I tell -you that you are the first and only blood relative I remember ever to -have seen." - -The old man shrugged his bent shoulders, and Nelson was almost sure that -he sneered, but no sound came from his tightly compressed lips. - -The young man, in even greater embarrassment, looked at the portraits -on the wall, and, for the lack of anything more appropriate to say, -remarked: "Your servant tells me that these are my grandparents--your -father and mother." - -"Yes, they are my parents," the old man said, deep down in his throat. -Then all of a sudden his eyes began to flash angrily. "That old hussy's -been talking behind my back, has she? I'll teach her what her place is -in my house, if--" - -"Oh, she only answered a question or two of mine," said Nelson, -pacifically. "I told her you were my uncle and for that reason I was -interested in family portraits." - -"_Your uncle!_" That was all the reply old Floyd made. - -Nelson stared at him in deep perplexity for a moment, then he said: -"I hope I am not on the wrong track, sir. A friend of mine--a rough -mountaineer, it's true, but a sterling fellow--called here some time -ago, and he came back and told me that you said--" - -"He came here like the spy that he was," snorted the old man. "He came -here to my house pretending to want to rent land, and in that way got -into my confidence and had me talk about family matters; but he didn't -want to rent land. When he failed to come back my suspicions were roused -and I made inquiries. I found out that he was the sharpest, keenest man -among mountain revenue detectives, and that he had no idea of leaving -his present location. Now I'd simply like to know what you and he are -after. I haven't got anything for you--not a dollar in the world, nor -any property that isn't mortgaged up to the hilt. Why did you send a man -of that kind to me?" - -"You actually astound me, sir," Nelson said. "I hardly know what to -say." - -"I reckon you don't--now that I hurl the unexpected truth into your -teeth. You didn't think I'd be sharp enough to inquire about that fellow -Baker, did you? You thought a man living here in a city as big as this -would let a green country lout like that get him in a trap. Huh! But I -wasn't a fool, sir. You thought you were getting facts from me through -him, but you were not, by a long shot. I wasn't going to tell a stranger -like that delicate family matters. God knows your father's conduct was -disgraceful enough without my unfolding his life to a coarse greenhorn -so long after his death. You know the reputation my brother Charles had, -don't you?" - -"Not till it came from you, sir," said Nelson, coldly. "Baker told me -you said he was a little wild, that he drank--" - -"My father kicked him out of our home, I tell you," the old man snapped. -"He told him never to darken his door again, after the way he lived -before the war and during it. It completely broke that woman's heart." -Old Floyd pointed a' trembling finger at his mother's portrait. "I don't -understand why you--how you can come here as you do, calling me your -uncle as if you had a right to do so." - -"Right to do so?--stop!" Nelson took him up sharply. "What do you mean? -I've the right to ask that, sir, anyway." - -"Oh, you know what I mean, I reckon. That man Baker intimated that you -knew all about your family history. You know that your mother and my -poor, deluded brother were never married, that they--" - -"Not married!" Nelson Floyd shrank as if he had been struck in the face. -"For God's sake don't say that! I can stand anything but that." - -"I won't ask you to believe me without ample proof," old Floyd answered, -harshly. "Wait here a minute." - -Nelson sank into a chair, and pale and trembling, and with a heart that -seemed dead within him, he watched the old man move slowly from the -room. Old Floyd returned presently. An expression that seemed born of -grim, palpitating satisfaction lay on his colorless face; a triumphant -light blazed in his sullen eyes. He held some books and a package of -letters in his hands. - -"Here are your father's letters to my parents," he began. "The letters -will tell the whole story. They bear his signature. If you doubt their -authenticity--if you think the name is forged, you can compare it to all -the specimens of his writing in these old school-books of his. This is -a diary he kept in college. You can see from its character how his life -was tending. The letters are later, after he met your mother--a French -girl--in New Orleans." - -For a moment Nelson stared up into the withered face above him, and -then, with a groan of dawning conviction, he took the letters. He opened -the one on the top. - -How strange! The handwriting was not unlike his own. But that was too -trivial to marvel over. It was the contents of the letter that at once -benumbed and tore his heart in twain. - -_"Dear father and mother," it began; "I am longing for the old home -to-night; but, as you say, it is perhaps best that I should never come -back again, especially as the facts are known in the neighborhood. The -things you write me in regard to Annette's past are, alas! only too -true. I don't deny them. Perhaps I'm the only one in the world who will -overlook them, for I happen to know how she was tried by poverty and -temptation when she was hardly more than a child. But on one point I can -set your minds at rest. You seem to think that I intend to marry her; -but I promise you now that I shall never link your honored name to hers. -Really the poor girl doesn't wish it. She seems to understand how you -feel exactly. And the baby! you are worried over its future. Let that -go. As soon as the war is over, I shall do my full duty by it. It is -nameless, as you say, and that fact may sting it later in life, but such -things have happened before, and, my dear father and mother, young men -have fallen into bad ways before, and--"_ - -Nelson Floyd read no further. Turning the time-stained sheet over, he -saw his father's signature. With lifeless fingers he opened one or two -of the other letters. He tried to glance at the fly-leaves of the books -on his quivering knees, but there was a blur before his sight. The -scrawny hands of the old man were stretched out to prevent the mass from -falling to the floor. - -"Are you satisfied? That's the main thing," he said. "Because, if you -are not, there are plenty of legal records which--" - -"I am satisfied." Nelson stood up, his inert hand on the back of the -rocking-chair he had just vacated. - -"I was going to say if you are not I can give you further proof. I can -cite to you old legal documents to which my brother signed his name. He -got hard up and sold a piece of land to me once. I have that deed. You -are welcome to--" - -"I am satisfied." Those words seemed the only ones of which the young -man's bewildered brain were capable. But he was a gentleman to the core -of his being. "I'm sorry I intruded on you, Mr. Floyd. Only blind -ignorance on my part--" He went no further. - -The inanimate objects about him, the chairs, the table, the door towards -which he was moving, seemed to have life. - -"Well, good-day." Old Floyd remained in the centre of the room, the -books and letters held awkwardly under his stiff arm. "I see that you -were not expecting this revelation, but you might as-well have been told -to-day as later. I understand that the Duncans and Prices up your way -are under wrong impressions about your social standing, but I didn't -want to be the one to open their eyes. I really don't care myself. -However, a thing like that is sure to get out sooner or later." - -"They shall know the truth," said Floyd, with the lips of a dead man. "I -shall not sail under false colors. Good-day, Mr. Floyd." - -Out into the broad, balmy sunlight the young man went. There was a -despondent droop upon him. His step was slow and uncertain, his feet -seemed to him to have weights attached to them. He walked on to the -corner of the next street and leaned against a tree. From the city's -palpitating heart and stony veins came the hum of traffic on wheels, -the clanging of bells, the escaping of steam. Near by some one was -practising a monotonous exercise on a piano. He looked up at the sky -with the stare of a subject under hypnotic influence. - -A lump was in his dry throat. He made an effort to swallow it down, but -it stuck and pained him. Persons passing caught sight of his face and -threw back stares of mute inquiry as they moved on. After half an hour -of aimless wandering here and there through the crowded streets, he -paused at the door of a bar-room. He recognized the big gilt sign on the -plate-glass windows, and remembered being there years before at midnight -with some jolly friends and being taken to his hotel in a cab. After -all, whiskey now, as then, would furnish forgetfulness, and that was his -right. He went in and sat down at a little round table in the corner of -the room. On a shelf near him was a bowl of brown pretzels, a plate of -salted pop-corn, a saucer of parched coffee-beans mixed with cloves. -One of the bartenders came to him, a towel over his arm. "What will you -have, sir?" he asked. - -"Rye whiskey straight," said the customer, his eyes on the sawdust at -his feet. "Bring the bottle along." - - - - -XXVI - - -TO Cynthia the day on which she expected Floyd to return from Atlanta -passed slowly. Something told her that he would come straight to her -from the station, on his arrival, and she was impatient to hear his -news. The hack usually brought passengers over at six o'clock, and at -that time she was on the porch looking expectantly down the road leading -to the village. But he did not come. Seven o'clock struck--eight; supper -was over and her parents and her grandmother were in bed. - -"I simply will not go to meet him in the grape-arbor any more," she said -to herself. "He is waiting to come later, but I'll not go out, as much -as I'd like to hear about his mother. He thinks my curiosity will drive -me to it, but he shall see." However, when alone in her room she paced -the floor in an agony of indecision and beset by strange, unaccountable -forebodings. Might not something have happened to him? At nine o'clock -she was in bed, but not asleep. At half-past nine she got up. The big -bed of feathers seemed a great, smothering instrument of torture; she -could scarcely get her breath. Throwing a shawl over her, she went out -on the porch and sat down in a chair. - -She had been there only a moment when she heard her mother's step in the -hall, and, turning her head, she saw the gaunt old woman's form in the -doorway. - -"I heard you walking about," Mrs. Porter said, coldly, "and got up to -see what was the matter. Are you sick?" - -"No, mother, I simply am not sleepy, that's all." The old woman advanced -a step nearer, her sharp eyes on the girl's white night-gown and bare -feet. "Good gracious!" she cried. "You'll catch your death of cold. Go -in the house this minute. I'll bet I know why you can't sleep. You -are worried about what people are saying about Nelson Floyd's marrying -Evelyn Duncan and throwing you over, as he no doubt has many other -girls." - -"I wasn't thinking of it, mother." Cynthia rose and started in. "He can -marry her if he wants to." - -"Oh, well, you can pretend all you like. I reckon your pride would make -you defend yourself. Now, go in the house." - -In the darkness of her room Cynthia sat on the side of her bed. She -heard her mother's bare feet as the old woman went along the hall back -to her room in the rear. Floyd might be in the grape-arbor now. As her -light was extinguished, he would think she had gone to bed, and he would -not whistle. Then a great, chilling doubt struck her. Perhaps he had -really gone to Duncan's to see Evelyn. But no, a warm glow stole over -her as she remembered that he had declined to go home from church in the -captain's carriage that he might walk with her. No, it was not that; but -perhaps some accident had happened to him--the stage-horses might have -become frightened on that dangerous mountain road. The driver was often -intoxicated, and in that condition was known to be reckless. Cynthia -threw herself back in bed and pulled the light covering over her, but -she did not go to sleep till far towards morning. - -The sun was up when she awoke. Her mother was standing near her, a -half-repentant look flitting over her wrinkled face. - -"Don't get up unless you feel like it," she said. "I've done your work -and am keeping your coffee and breakfast warm." - -"Thank you, mother." Cynthia sat up, her mind battling with both dreams -and realities. - -"You don't look like you are well," Mrs. Porter said. "I watched you -before you waked up. You are awfully dark under the eyes." - -"I'll feel all right when I am up and stirring around," Cynthia said, -avoiding her mother's close scrutiny. "I tell you I'm not sick." - -When she had dressed herself and gone out into the dining-room she found -a delicious breakfast waiting for her, but she scarcely touched the -food. The coffee she drank for its stimulating effect, and felt better. -All that morning, however, she was the helpless victim of recurring -forebodings. When her father came in from the village at noon she hung -about him, hoping that he would drop some observation from which she -might learn if Floyd had returned, but the quaint old gossip seemed to -talk of everything except the subject to which her soul seemed bound. - -About the middle of the afternoon Mrs. Porter said she wanted a spool of -cotton thread, and Cynthia offered to go to the village for it. - -"Not in this hot sun," the old woman objected. - -"I could keep in the shade all the way," Cynthia told her. - -"Well, if you'll do that, you may go," Mrs. Porter gave in. "I don't -know but what the exercise will do you good. I tell you, I don't like -the looks of your skin and eyes. I'm afraid you are going to take down -sick. You didn't touch breakfast and ate very little dinner." - -Cynthia managed to laugh reassuringly as she went for her hat and -sunshade. Indeed, the prospect even of activity had driven touches of -color into her cheeks and her step was light and alert as she started -off--so at least thought Mrs. Porter, who was looking after her from a -window. But what did the trip amount to? At Mayhew & Floyd's store Joe -Peters waited on her and had nothing to say of Floyd. While the clerk's -back was turned Cynthia threw a guarded glance in the direction of -Floyd's desk, but the shadows of the afternoon had enveloped that part -of the room in obscurity, and she saw nothing that would even indirectly -reply to her heart's question. It was on her tongue to inquire if Floyd -had returned, but her pride laid a firm hand over her pretty mouth, and -with her small purchase tightly clasped in her tense fingers, she went -out into the street and turned her face homeward. - -The next day passed in much the same way, and the night. Then two other -days and nights of racking torture came and went. The very lack of -interest in the subject, of those about her, was maddening. She was -sure now that something vital had happened to her lover, and Saturday -at noon, when her father came from the village, she saw that he was the -bearer of news. She knew, too, that it concerned Floyd before the old -man had opened his lips. - -"Well, what you reckon has happened?" Nathan asked, with one of his -unctuous smiles. "You two women could guess, an' guess, fer two thousand -years, an' then never git in a mile o' what everybody in town is talkin' -about." - -Cynthia's heart sank like a plummet. It was coming--the grim, horrible -revelation she had feared. But her father was subtly enjoying the blank -stare in her eyes, the depth of which was beyond his comprehension. As -usual, he purposely hung fire. - -"What is it, Nathan?" his wife said, entreatingly. "Don't keep us -waiting as you always do." She looked at Cynthia and remarked: "It's -something out of the common. I can see that from the way he begins." - -Porter laughed dryly. "You kin bet yore sweet lives it's out o' the -common, but I hain't no hand to talk when my throat's parched dry -with thirst. I cayn't drink that town water, nohow. Has any fresh been -fetched?" - -"Just this minute," declared his wife, and she hastened to the -water-shelf in the entry, returning with a dripping gourd. "Here, drink -it! You won't say a word till you are ready." - -Porter drank slowly. "You may _call_ that fresh water," he sneered, "but -you wouldn't ef you had it to swallow. I reckon you'd call old stump -water fresh ef you could git news any the quicker by it. Well, it's -about Nelson Floyd." - -"Nelson Floyd!" gasped Mrs. Porter. "He's gone and married Evelyn -Duncan--that's my guess." - -"No, it ain't that," declared Porter. "An' it ain't another Wade gal -scrape that anybody knows of. The fact is nobody don't know _what_ it -is. Floyd went down to Atlanta Wednesday, so Mayhew says, to lay in a -few articles o' stock that was out, an' to call on that new uncle o' -his. He was to be back Wednesday night, without fail, to draw up some -important mortgages fer the firm, an' a dozen customers has been helt -over in town fer two days. They all had to go back without transactin' -business, fer Floyd didn't turn up. Nor he didn't write a line, nuther. -And, although old Mayhew has been firin' telegrams down thar, fust to -Nelson an' later to business houses, not a thing has been heard o' the -young man since last Wednesday. He hain't registered at no hotel in -Atlanta. One man has been found that said he knowed Floyd by sight, -an' that he had seed 'im walkin' about at night in the vilest street in -Atlanta lookin' like a dead man or one plumb bereft of his senses." - -Cynthia stood staring at her father with expanded eyes, and then she sat -down near a window, her face averted from the others. She said nothing. - -"He's crazy," said Mrs. Porter. "I've always thought something was wrong -with that man. His whole life shows it. He was an outlaw when he was a -child, and when he grew up he put on high' an' mighty airs, an' started -to drinkin' like a lord. He'd no sooner let up on that than he got into -that Wade trouble, an'--" - -"Some think he was drugged, an' maybe put out of the way on the sly," -said Porter, bluntly. "But I don't know. Thoughts is cheap." - -"Hush, Nathan!" Mrs. Porter said, under her breath, for Cynthia had -risen, and without looking to the right or left was moving from the -room. "This may kill that poor child." - -"Kill her, a dog's hind foot!" Porter sneered. "To be a woman yorse'f, -you are the porest judge of 'em I ever seed. You women are so dead -anxious to have some man die fer you that you think the same reckless -streak runs in yore own veins. You all said Minnie Wade had tuck -powdered glass when she was sick that time an' was goin' to pass in 'er -checks on this feller's account, but she didn't die fer him, nor fer -Thad Pelham, nor the two Thomas boys, nor Abe Spring, nor none o' the -rest." - -"You ought to be ashamed of speaking of your own child in the same -breath with that girl," said Mrs. Porter, insincerely, her eyes -anxiously on the door through which Cynthia had gone. - -"I hain't bunchin' 'em together at all," Porter declared. "I was only -tryin' to keep you from layin' in a burial outfit that may go out o' -fashion 'fore Cynthy wants to use it. You watch 'er an' you'll see 'er -pick up' in a day or so. I've seed widows wear black so heavy that the -dye in the goods seemed to soak into the'r skins an' drip of'n the'r -eyelashes, an' them same women was wearin' red stockin's an' flirtin' em -at another fool inside of a month." - -"You don't know what you are talking about," responded Mrs. Porter. -"It is going hard with her, but I really hope Floyd'll not come back to -Spring-town. I don't feel safe with him around." - -"You don't want 'im here," sneered Porter, "but yo're dead sure his -absence is a-goin' to lay our only child under the sod. That's about -as sensible as the stand a woman takes on most questions. As fer me, I -confess I'm sorter upset. I'd about made up my mind that our little gal -was goin' to yank that chap an' his boodle into this family before long, -but it looks like I was off in my calculations. To look at her now, a -body wouldn't think she was holdin' the drivin'-reins very tight. But -come what may, storm, hail, wind, rain, or sunshine an' fine crops, I'll -be the only one, I reckon, in this house that will sleep sound to-night. -An' that's whar you are all a set o' fools. A person that loses sleep -wonderin' whether another person is dead or alive mought be in better -business, in this day and time, when just _anybody_ is liable to drap -dead in the'r tracks. La, me! What you got fer dinner? I smell some'n' -a-cookin'." - -And Porter went into the kitchen, got down on his knees at the stove, -and looked into it. - -"That's all right," he said to himself, with a chuckle, "but she hain't -put half enough gravy on it, an' ef I hadn't a-been here to 'a' turned -it, it 'ud not 'a' got cooked clean through. If it's tough I'll raise a -row. I told 'em to sell the tough 'uns. What's the use o' raisin' hens -ef you have to eat the scrubs an' don't git half-pay fer the ones you -send to market?" - - - - -XXVII - - -A WEEK went by. To Cynthia its days were veritable months of mental -torture. Porter came in one day at sundown from the village. As usual, -he had something to say regarding the all-absorbing topic of Nelson -Floyd's mysterious disappearance. Through the day neighbors had been -in with many vague and groundless rumors, all of which were later -discredited, but Nathan Porter, sardonic old observer that hie was, -usually got nearer the facts than any one else, and in consequence he -was always listened to. - -"What's anybody heard now?" his wife asked him, as he came through the -gate to where she and Cynthia sat on the porch. - -"They've heard a lots," he said. "Among other things, it's finally -leaked out that Lee's surrendered an' the niggers is all declared -free. Some say George Washington has jest crossed the Delaware in a -tippy-canoe, an' that Napoleon discovered America, but I doubt it. What -I want to know is whether supper is ready or not." - -"No, it isn't," Mrs. Porter made haste to inform him, "but it will be in -a few minutes. The table's set an' all is ready, except the bread isn't -quite done. Now, what have you heard in town?" - -"A body kin hear a lots," Porter drawled out. "The trouble is to keep -from listenin' to so much. People are standin' as thick about Mayhew & -Floyd's shebang as flies over a fresh ginger-cake. You two are the -only women in the county that hain't been thar, an' I'm proud of the -distinction. Old Mrs. Snodgrass mighty nigh had a fisticuff fight to -retain her corner in the store, whar she's had 'er distributin' office -fer the last week. Joe Peters needed the space. He tried to put a coop -o' chickens thar, but you bet the chickens had to go some'rs else. Mrs. -Snod' said she was gittin' hard o' hearin', an' ef she wasn't right thar -in the front she wouldn't git a thing till it was second-handed." - -"Oh, I get out of all patience with you," cried Mrs. Porter. "Why does -it take you so long to get to a point?" - -"The truth is, thar ain't any rale developments as I kin see," Porter -gave in, reluctantly. "Old Mayhew, though, is back from Atlanta. He sets -thar, as yaller as a pumpkin, without much to say. He's got a rope tied -to every nickel he owns, an' he sees absolute ruin ahead o' the firm. -He's depended on Nelson Floyd's popularity an' brains to keep things -a-goin' so long that now he's like a loaded wagon runnin' downhill -without a tongue, swingle-tree, or hold-back strop. You see, ef Nelson -Floyd is dead, or put out o' the way--accordin' to Mrs. Snodgrass, -who heard a Darley lawyer say it--why the young man's interest in the -business will slide over to his new kin--a receiver will have to -be appointed an' Mayhew closed up. Mrs. Snod' is authority fer the -statement that Floyd's uncle has connived agin the boy to git his pile, -an' bliffed 'im in the head with a sock full o' sand or some'n' equally -as deadly. I dunno. I never knowed her to be right about anything, an' -I hain't a-goin' to believe Floyd's dead till the report comes from some -other direction. But this much seems to have foundation in fact: -Mayhew _did_ go down; he _did_ make inquiries of the police; an' some -_say_--now, mind you, I hain't a-standin' fer this--some say he paid out -solid coin to git expert detectives a-holt o' the matter. They say the -detectives run across a low-class hotel out in the edge o' town whar a -feller answerin' Floyd's description had come in the night after the boy -left here an' axed fer a room. They say he was lookin' awful--like he -had been on a big jag, an' when they give 'im the pen to register he -studied a minute an' then thro wed it at the clerk, an' told 'im he -didn't have no name to sign, an' turned an' stalked out. That was the -last seed of 'im." - -"An' that's all you heard," said Mrs. Porter, in disgust. - -"All but one thing more," Porter replied. "Folks about here that has -missed Pole Baker fer the last three days 'lowed he was off on another -bender, but he was down thar in Atlanta nosin' around tryin' to find -Floyd. Old Mayhew paid his expenses. He said Pole had a longer head on -'im than any detective in the bunch. Pole got back about two hours ago, -but what he discovered not even Mrs. Snod' knows. Him an' Mayhew had -the'r heads clamped together in the rear end o' the store fer an hour, -but Joe Peters helt the crowd back, an' thar it stands." - -"Pig-oop-pig-oo! Pig-oop-pig-oo!" The mellow, resonant sound floated to -them on the still air. Porter smiled. - -"That's Pole now callin' his hogs," he said, laconically. "The blamed -fool told me t'other day he was goin' to fatten them pigs on buttermilk, -but that sort o' fat won't stick any more'n whiskey bloat on a reformed -drunkard. By the time he drives 'em to market they'll look as flabby -as a ripe tomato with the inside squashed out. Speakin' o' hogs, I want -you-uns to fry me a piece o' that shuck-sausage on the top shelf in the -smoke-house. You'd better go git it now. Swallowin' all that gush in -town has made me want some'n' solid." - -When her mother and father had gone into the house Cynthia hastened -across the fields through the gathering dusk in the direction of -Pole Baker's voice. He would tell her, she was sure, if anything of -importance had turned up concerning Floyd, and she could not bear the -thought of another night of suspense. - -Presently, through the dusk, she saw Pole at his hog-pen in the edge of -a little thicket behind his cottage. - -"Pig-oop-pig-oo!" she heard him calling. "Dem yore lazy hides, ef you -don't come on I'll empty this bucket o' slop on the ground an' you kin -root fer it. I've mighty nigh ripped the linin' out o' my throat on yore -account." Then he descried Cynthia coming towards him over the dew-damp -grass and he paused, leaning on the rail-fence, his eyes resting -expectantly on her. - -"Oh, it's you, little sister!" he exclaimed, pleasantly. "That's sorter -foolish o' you gittin' them little feet o' yore'n wet in this dew. -It may settle on yore lungs an' keep you from j'inin' in the singin' -Sunday." - -"I want to see you," Cynthia said, in a voice that shook. "I heard you -calling your hogs, and thought I'd catch you here." - -"Well, little sister, I hain't very nice-lookin' in this old shirt an' -pants of many colors, like Joseph's coat, but every patch was sewed on -by the fingers o' the sweetest, most patient little woman God ever made, -an' I hain't ashamed of 'em; but she is--God bless 'er!--an' she'd have -a spasm ef she knowed I talked to you in 'em." - -"My father says you went down to Atlanta," Cynthia said, falteringly, -"and I thought--" - -"Yes, I went down." Pole avoided her fixed stare. - -"You went to see if you could learn anything of Mr. Floyd's whereabouts, -didn't you?" - -"Yes, I did, little sister. I hain't a-talkin' much. Mayhew says it's -best to sorter lie low until some'n' accurate is found out, an' while I -did my level best down thar, I've got to acknowledge I'm as much in the -dark as anybody else. In fact, I'm mighty nigh bothered to death over -it. Nelson, poor boy, seems to have disappeared clean off'n the face -o' the earth. The only thing I have to build on is the fact that--an' I -hate to say it, little sister--the fact that he evidently _did_ start -to drinkin' again. He told me once that he wasn't plumb sure o' hisse'f, -an' that any big trouble or despair might overthrow his resolutions. -Now, he's been drinkin', I reckon--an' what could 'a' been his trouble? -I went three times to his uncle's, but the doctors wouldn't let me see -'im. The old man's broke down with nervous prostration from business -troubles, an' they are afeard he's goin' to kick the bucket. Comin' back -on the cars--" - -Pole's voice died away. He crossed and recrossed his hands on the fence. -He avoided her steady stare. His massive eyebrows met on his wrinkled -forehead. It was as if he were suffering inward pain. "I say--as I set -in the train on the way back tryin' an' tryin' to find some explanation, -the idea come to me that--since trouble was evidently what upset -Nelson--that maybe you mought be able to throw some light on it." - -"_Me_, Mr. Baker?" - -Pole hung his head; he spat slowly. Was she mistaken, or had he -actually turned pale? Was it that, or a trick of her vision in the vague -starlight? - -"Little sister," he said, huskily, "you could trust me with yore life. -I'd die rather than--than not stand to you in anything on earth. You -see, if you happened to know any reason why Nelson Floyd--" Pole was -interrupted by the loud grunting and squealing of his drove of hogs as -they rushed round the fence-corner towards him. "Wait," he said--"wait -till I pour the'r feed in the trough." - -He took up the pail and disappeared for a moment behind the cow-house. - -Cynthia felt a great lump of wondering suspense in her throat. What -could he mean? What was coming? She had never seen Pole act so strangely -before. Presently he came back to her, holding the dripping paddle with -which he had stirred the dregs in the bottom of his slop-bucket. He -leaned over the fence again. - -"You see, it's this away, little sister," he began, lamely. "You an' -Nelson--that is, you an' him was sorter runnin' together. He went with -you, I reckon, more, on the whole, than with any other young lady in -this section, an', you see, ef anybody was in a position to know any -particular trouble or worry he had, you mought be that one." - -"But I'm afraid I don't know anything of the kind," she said, -wonderingly, her frank eyes resting blankly on his face. - -"I see you don't understand me," he went on. "The God's truth is that -I hain't no hand to talk about delicate matters to a young gal, an' you -above all, but I want to _know_--I want _some'n'_ to build on. I don't -know how to put what I want to ax. Maybe I'm away--away off, an' will -want to kill myse'f fer even dreamin' that--but--well, maybe you'll git -at what I mean from this. You see, I run in the room on you an' my wife -not long ago an' ketched Sally an' you a-cryin' over some'n' or other -you'd confided to 'er, an' then other things of a like nature has -crapped up lately, an'--" - -"I don't understand you, Mr. Baker," said Cynthia, anxiously, when she -saw he was going no further. "I really don't. But I assure you, I'm -ready to tell you anything." - -"Ah! Are you? Well, I started to say Sally don't cry over other folks' -matters unless they are purty sad, an' you know at the time you refused -to tell me what yore trouble was. Maybe you ain't ready yet, little -sister. But could you tell me, right out plain, what ailed you that -day?" - -Cynthia stared and then dropped her glance to the ground. - -"I don't see that it would help in the matter," she said, awkwardly. - -"Well, maybe it wouldn't," he declared, in despair; "an' I reckon thar -are things one woman would tell another woman that she wouldn't speak of -to a man." - -"I guess that's so," said Cynthia, still perplexed over the turn the -conversation had taken and yet firm in her determination to say nothing -that would involve Mrs. Baker's secret. - -"Well, maybe you won't mind it much ef I put it this away," Pole -continued. "Now, remember, you don't have to say yes or no unless you -want to. Little sister, I'll put it this away: ef Nelson Floyd was to -never come back here again, could you, as--as a good, true woman--could -you conscientiously marry another man? Could you with a clear -conscience, I mean, before God, ever marry another man? Thar, it's out! -Could you?" - -Cynthia started. She looked down. She was silent. Her color rose. - -"Now, mind," Pole said, suddenly, "you don't _have_ to answer unless -you want to. No man's got a right to hem a weak, excited woman up in a -corner and get at her heart's secrets." - -"Would it do any good for you to know that, Mr. Baker?" the girl said, -in a low voice. - -"I think so, little sister." - -"Well, then"--she turned her face away--"I don't think I'd ever want to -marry any other living man." - -"Oh, my God!" Pole averted his face, but not before she had seen its -writhing torture. She stared at him in astonishment, and, to avoid her -eyes, he lowered his head to his arms, which were folded on the top rail -of the fence. Fully a minute passed; still he did not look up. She saw -his broad shoulders rising and falling as if he were trying to subdue a -torrent of emotion. She laid her hand firmly on his arm. - -"Tell me what you mean," she suddenly demanded. "I want to know. This -has gone far enough. What do you mean?" - -He raised a pair of great, blearing eyes to hers. He started to speak, -but his voice hung in his throat. Tightening her clasp on his arm she -repeated her demand. - -"I see through it now," he found voice to say, huskily. "I don't mean to -say Nelson Floyd is afeard o' man, beast, nor devil when it comes to a -_just_ encounter, but he knows now that ef me an' him was to come face -to face one of us ud have to die, an' he's man enough not to want to -kill me in sech a cause. I gave 'im due warnin'. I told 'im the day he -drove you to bush-arbor meetin' that ef he tuck advantage o' you I'd -kill 'im as shore as God give me the strength. I knowed whar that stormy -night was spent, but I refused to believe the wust. I give 'im the -benefit o' that doubt, but now since you tell me with your own lips -that--" - -"Oh! Oh! _Oh!_" The cry burst from her lips as if she were in sudden -pain. "I don't mean _that_. Why, I'm a _good_ girl, Mr. Baker! I'm a -good girl!" - -Pole leaned over the fence and laid his big, quivering hands on her -shoulders. "Thank God!" he gulped, his eyes flashing with joy. "Then -I've still got my little sister an' I've got my friend. Thank God! thank -God!" - -Cynthia stood for a moment with hanging head, and then with a deep sigh -she turned to go away. He climbed over the fence and caught up with -her, the light of a new fear now in his eyes, its fire in his quickened -pulse. - -"I see you ain't never goin' to forgive me in the world fer sayin' what -I did," he said, humbly; "but God knows I wasn't thinkin' wrong o' -you. It was him, damn 'im!--his hot-blooded natur', an' a lots o' -circumstances that p'inted jest one way. I ain't more'n human, little -sister, an' through that I've offended you beyond forgiveness." - -"A woman learns to bear a great many things," Cynthia said. "My mother -and others have hardened me so that I scarcely feel what you said as any -other pure-minded woman might. Then--then--" She faced him squarely, -and her voice rang out sharply. "We don't know--you don't--I don't know -whether he is alive or--" Her words failed her, a sob, dry and deep, -shook her from head to foot. "Don't curse him as you did just now, Mr. -Baker; you may be cursing a dead man who, himself, was only human. But I -know what he was--I saw his real and higher nature, and, as it struggled -for growth in good and bad soil, it was the most beautiful flower God -ever made. He can't be dead--he _must_ not be dead. I--I could not bear -that. Do you hear me? Call me what you will for my imprudent conduct -with him, but don't admit that bare possibility for one instant--even in -your thoughts. Don't do it, I say!" - -Pole gulped down his tense emotion. "I'll tell you what I'll do, little -sister," he proposed. "Promise me you'll overlook what I said just now, -an' I'll work these here hands"--he held them up in the starlight--"to -the naked bone; I'll use this here brain"--he struck his broad brow with -a resounding slap--"till it withers in the endeavor to fetch 'im back -safe an' sound, ef you'll jest forgive me." - -"Forgive you!" She laughed harshly and tossed her head. "That's already -done. More than that, I want to tell you that I've always looked on you -as a brother. You made me love you a long time ago by your gentleness -and respect for women." - -"Oh, little sister," Pole cried, "I don't deserve that!" - -"Yes, you do; but find him--find him, and bring him back." - -"All right, little sister; I'll do my best." - -He stood still and watched her hurry away through the darkness. - -"Poor little trick," he sighed. "I was countin' on that one thing to -explain Nelson's absence. Since it ain't that, what the hell is it, -unless he's been sandbagged down thar in Atlanta an' put out o' the -way?" - - - - -XXVIII - - -IT was quite dark when Pole went into the cottage. There was a fire in -the little sitting-room, and by its light he could see his wife through -the open door of the next room as she quietly moved about. He paused in -the door-way and whispered: - -"Are the childern asleep, Sally?" - -"Yes, an' tucked away." She came to him with a cautious step, and looked -up into his face trustingly. "Little Billy kept askin' fer papa, papa, -papa! He said he jest wasn't goin' to sleep anywhar except in his own -place in yore lap." - -Pole went to the children's bed, looked down at the row of yellow heads -for a moment, then suddenly bent and took the eldest boy into his arms. - -"You goose!" Mrs. Baker exclaimed. "I'm sorry I said what I did. You'll -spile 'im to death. Thar, I knowed he'd wake up! It's jest what you -wanted." - -"Did you want yore papa?" Pole said, in cooing tones of endearment. -"Well, Billy-boy, papa's got you, an' he ain't a-goin' to let no booger -git you, nuther. Thar now, go back to sleep." And in a big arm-chair -before the fire Pole sat and rocked back and forth with the child's head -on his shoulder. - -"Whar've you been, papa?" Billy asked, sliding his arm around Pole's -rough, sunbrowned neck and pressing his face to his father's. - -"To feed the hogs, Billy-boy." - -"But you never took so long before," argued the child. - -"I had to watch 'em eat, Billy-boy--eat, eat, eat, Billy-boy! They -hadn't had anything since mom-in' except roots, an' snags, an' pusley -weeds, an' it was a purty sight to watch 'em stick the'r snouts in that -slop. Now, go to sleep. Here we go--here we go--across the bridge to -Drowsy Town." - -In a moment the child was sleeping soundly and Pole bore him tenderly -back to bed. As he straightened up in the darkened room his wife was -beside him. - -"I declare you are a _good_ man," she said--"the best-hearted, tenderest -man in the world, Pole Baker!" - -He looked at her steadily for an instant, then he said: - -"Sally, I want you to do me a special favor." - -"What is it, Pole?" Her voice was full of wonder. - -"Sally, now don't laugh at me, but I want you to go put on a piece o' -red ribbon, an' let yore hair hang down yore back loose like you used -to. Fix it that away an' then come in to the fire." - -"Pole, yo're foolish!" Mrs. Baker was really pleased, and yet she saw no -reason for his whim. - -"You do as I ax you, an' don't be long about it, nuther." - -He turned back into the firelight, and, watching him cautiously from the -adjoining room, Mrs. - -Baker saw him straightening out his shirt and brushing his coarse hair. -Then, to her further surprise, she saw him take down his best coat from -its peg on the wall and put it on. This was followed by a dusting of -his rough shoes with a soiled, red handkerchief. In great wonder, Sally, -with her hair loose on her shoulders, looked into the room. - -"You ain't in earnest about that--that red ribbon, are you, Pole?" she -faltered. - -"Yes, I am," he answered, without lifting his eyes from the fire. "I -mean exactly what I say." - -"All right, then, I'll do it, but I don't see a bit o' sense in it," she -retorted. "It's about our bedtime, an' I know in reason that we -ain't a-goin' nowhar at this time o' night an' leave the childem by -the'r-selves." - -Still Pole did not look up. - -"You go an' do as I tell you," he repeated, a flush of growing -embarrassment on his face. - -Presently Mrs. Baker came in, even redder and more confused than he. - -"Pole, what in the name o' common-sense--" - -But he was gallantly placing a chair for her in front of the fire near -his own. "Take a seat," he said, bowing and motioning downward with his -hands. "When you stood in the door jest then, lookin' fer all the world -like you did away back in our courtin'-day, I come as nigh as peas -callin' you 'Miss Sally.' Gee whiz! It's Mrs. Baker now--ain't it? How -quar that sounds when a body looks back!" - -"Pole," she asked, as she sat down wonderingly, "are you goin' some'rs -at this time o' night?" - -"No, it ain't that," he said, awkwardly--"it ain't that, Sally. It ain't -meetin', nor singin'-school, nor a moonlight buggy-ride.'Tain't none o' -them old, old things." Pole crossed his long legs and leaned back in his -chair. "I know in reason that you are a-goin' to laugh at me, an' say -I'm plumb crazy, but it's this away, Sally: some'n's jest happened -that's set me to thinkin', an' it occurred to me that I wasn't half -thankful enough to the Almighty fer all His many blessin's, an'--" - -"Pole"--Mrs. Baker was misled as to his meaning--"somebody's been -talkin' religion to you. You want to begin holdin' family prayer ag'in, -I reckon. Now, looky' here, ef you do, I want you to keep it up. I feel -wuss ever'time you start in an' break off." - -"'Tain't that, nuther," Pole said, eying the red chunks under the -fire-logs. "Sally, thar ortn't to be no secret betwixt man an' wife. I -had a talk with Cynthia Porter out at the hog-pen jest now about Nelson -Floyd, an' the way she talked an' acted worked on me powerful. Seein' -the way she feels about her sweetheart started me to thinkin' how -awful I'd feel without you. An' with that come the feelin' that, -somehow--somehow or other, Sally--me'n' you ain't jest pine-blank the -way we used to be, an' I believe thar's a screw loose. I'd liter'ly die -ef I didn't have you, an' I've been spittin' in the face o' Providence -by the careless way I've been actin'. Now, Sally, I want you jest to set -right thar, an' let's forget about them towheads in the next room, an' -try an' forget all I've made you suffer fust an' last, an' let's git -back--let's git back, Sally, to the old sweetheart-time. I know I'm -tough, an' a sorry cuss before God an' man, but I've got the same heart -a-beatin' in me to-night that was in me away back on Holly Creek. In -this firelight you look as plump an' rosy an' bright-eyed as you did -then, an' with that red ribbon at yore neck, an' yore hair down yore -back, I feel--well, I feel like gittin' down on my knees an' beggin' -you, like I did that time, not to take Jim Felton, but to give me -a showin'. I wonder"--Pole's voice broke, and he covered his mouth -impulsively with his hand--"I wonder ef it's too late to ax you to give -me a chance to prove myself a good husband an' a father to them thar -childern." - -"Oh, Pole, stop!" Mrs. Baker cried out, as if in pain. "I won't let you -set thar an' run yorese'f down, when you are the best-hearted man in -this state. What is a little spree now an' then compared to the lot o' -some pore women that git kicked an' cuffed, with never a tender word -from the'r husbands. Pole, as the Lord is my judge, I kin honestly say -that I--I almost want you _jest like you are_. Some men don't drink, -but they hain't got yore heart an' gentle way, an' ef I had to take my -choice over an' over ag'in, I'd choose a man like you every time." - -She rose suddenly, and with a face full of pent-up emotion she left the -room. She returned in a moment. - -"I thought I heard the baby wakin'," she said. - -He caught her hand and pulled her gently down into her chair. "Yo're a -liar, Sally," he said, huskily. "You know yo're a-lyin'. You went out to -wipe yore eyes. You didn't want me to see you cry." - -She made no denial, and he put his rough hand, with a reverent touch, on -her hair. - -"It ain't quite as heavy as it was," he said. "Nor so fluffy. I reckon -that's beca'se you keep it bound up so tight. When I fust tuck a shine -to you, you used to run about them old hills as wild as a deer, an' the -wind kept it tousled. Do you remember the day it got full o' cockleburs -an' I tried to git 'em out? La me! I was all of a tremble. The Lord -knows I never thought then that sech a sweet, scared, rosy little -thing ud ever keep house fer me an' cook my grub an' be a mother to my -childern. I never dreamt, then, that instead o' bein' grateful fer the -blessin', I'd go off weeks at a time an' lie in a gutter, leavin' you to -walk the floor in agony--sometimes with a nursin' baby an' not a scrap -to eat. No, I never--" - -"Hush, Pole!" With a sob, half of joy, half of sadness, Mrs. Baker put -her hand over his mouth and pressed her face against his. "Hush, hush, -hush!" - -"But, thank God, I hope that day is over," he said, taking her hand from -his lips. "I've passed through a great crisis, Sally. Some'n' you don't -know about--some'n' you may _never_ know about--that happened right here -in these mountains, but it may prove to be my turnin'-p'int." - -His wife looked uneasily at the fire. "It's gittin' late, Pole," she -said. "We'd better go to bed." - - - - -XXIX - - -THE following evening was balmy and moonlit. Hillhouse was at Porter's -just after supper, seated on the porch in conversation with Mrs. Porter. - -"Yes, I believe I'd not ask her to see you to-night," she was advising -him. "The poor girl seems completely fagged out. She tries to do as -much about the house as usual, but it seems to tire her more. Then she -doesn't eat heartily, and I hear her constantly sighing." - -"Ah, I see," Hillhouse said, despondently. "Yes," the old woman pursued, -"I suppose if you finally get her to marry you, you'll have to put up -with the memory that she _did_ have a young girl's fancy for that man, -Brother Hillhouse. But she wasn't the only one. The girls all liked him, -and he did show a preference for her." - -"Has she--has she heard the latest news--the very latest?" Hillhouse -asked, anxiously. "Has she heard the report that Henry A. Floyd told -Mr. Mayhew he had met Nelson and revealed that awful news about his -parentage?" - -"Oh yes; Mrs. Snodgrass came in with that report this morning. She knew -as well as anything that Cynthia was excited, and yet she sat in the -parlor and went over and over the worst parts of it, watching the girl -like a hawk. Cynthia got up and left the room. She was white as death -and looked like she would faint. Mrs. Snodgrass hinted at deliberate -suicide. She declared a young man as proud and high-strung as Nelson -Floyd would resort to that the first thing. She said she wouldn't blame -him one bit after all he's suffered. Well, just think of it, Brother -Hillhouse! Did you ever hear of anybody being treated worse? He's been -tossed and kicked about all his life, constantly afraid that he wasn't -quite as respectable as other folks. And then all at once he was taken -up and congratulated by the wealth and blood around him on his high -stand--and then finally had to have this last discovery rammed in his -face. Why, that's enough to drive any proud spirit to desperation! I -don't blame him for getting drunk. I don't blame him, either, for not -wanting to come back to be snubbed by those folks. But what I _do_ -want is fer him not to drag me and mine into his trouble. When my girl -marries, I want her to marry some man that will be good to her, and I -want him to have decent social standing. Even if Floyd's alive, if I can -help it, Cynthia shall never marry him--never!" - -"Does Miss Cynthia believe," ventured the preacher, "that Floyd has -killed himself?" - -"I don't think she believes that, _quite_," was Mrs. Porter's reply; -"but she doesn't seem to think he'll ever come back to Springtown. Don't -you worry, Brother Hillhouse. She'll get over this shock after a while, -and then she'll appreciate your worth and constancy. If I were you, I'd -not press my claim right now." - -"Oh, I wouldn't think of such a thing!" Hillhouse stroked a sort of -glowing resignation into his chin, upon which a two-days beard had made -a ragged appearance. "I've been awfully miserable, Sister Porter, but -this talk with you has raised my hopes." Mrs. Porter rose with a faint -smile. "Now, you go home and write another good sermon like that last -one. I watched Cynthia out of the corner of my eye all through it. That -idea of its being our duty to bear our burdens cheerfully--no matter -how heavy they are--seemed to do her a lot of good." The color came into -Hillhouse's thin face, and his eyes shone. "The sermon I have in mind -for next Sunday is on the same general line," he said. "I'm glad she -listened. I was talking straight at her, Sister Porter. I'm not ashamed -to admit it. I've been unable to think of anything but her since--since -Floyd disappeared." - -"You are a good man, Brother Hillhouse"--Mrs. Porter was giving him her -hand--"and somehow I feel like you will get all you want, in due time, -remember--in due time." - -"God bless you, sister," Hillhouse said, earnestly, and, pressing the -old woman's hand, he turned away. - - - - -XXX - - -WHEN Cynthia heard the gate close behind the preacher, and from the -window of her room had seen him striding away, she put a shawl over her -shoulder and started out. - -"Where on earth are you going?" her mother asked from the end of the -porch, where she stood among the honeysuckle vines. - -"I want to run across to Mrs. Baker's, just a minute," Cynthia said. "I -won't be long. I'll come right back." - -"I'd think you'd be afraid to do that," her mother protested, "with so -many stray negroes about. Besides, it's the Bakers' bedtime. Can't you -wait till to-morrow?" - -"No, I want to walk, anyway," said Cynthia. "I feel as if it will do me -good. I'm not afraid." - -"Well, I sha'n't go to bed till you come back," Mrs. Porter gave in. - -In a few minutes the girl was at the back-yard fence of Pole Baker's -cottage. The door was open wide, and in the firelight Cynthia saw Mrs. -Baker bending over the dining-room table. - -"Oh, Mrs. Baker!" the girl called, softly. - -"Who's that? Oh, it's you, Cynthia!" and the older woman came out into -the moonlight, brushing her white apron with her hand. She leaned over -the fence. "Won't you come in?" - -"No, I promised mother I'd be right back. I thought maybe you could tell -me if Mr. Baker had heard anything yet." - -"I'm sorry to say he hain't," replied the little woman, sadly. "Him -and Mr. Mayhew has been working all sorts of ways, and writing constant -letters to detectives and the mayors of different cities, but everything -has failed. He came in just now looking plumb downhearted." - -Cynthia took a deep breath. Her lips quivered as if she had started to -speak and failed. - -"But, la me! I haven't give up," Mrs. Baker said, in a tone of forced -lightness. "He'll come home all safe and sound one of these days, -Cynthia. I have an idea that he's just mad at his ill-luck all round, -and, right now, doesn't care what folks about here think. He'll git over -all that in due time and come back and face his trouble like other men -have done. It's a bitter pill fer a proud young man to swallow, but a -body kin git used to most anything in time." - -"I'm afraid he's never coming home," Cynthia said, in rigid calmness. -"He once told me if he ever had any great trouble he would be tempted to -drink again. Mr. Baker thinks he's been drinking, and in that condition -there is no telling what has happened to him." - -"Well, let me tell you some'n'--let me give you a piece of sound -advice," said Mrs. Baker. "It's unaxed; but I'm a sufferin' woman, an' -I'm a-goin' to advise you as I see fit, ef you never speak to me ag'in. -Ef whiskey is keepin' Nelson Floyd away, an' he does come back an' wants -to marry you, don't you take 'im. Tear 'im from yore young heart 'fore -the roots o' yore love git too big an' strong to pull out. It may not be -whiskey that's keepin' 'im away. He may 'a' taken a dram or two at the -start an' be livin' sober somewhar now; or, then ag'in, as you say, -some'n' may 'a' happened to 'im; but, anyhow, don't you resk livin' -with 'im, not ef he has all the money on earth. Money won't stick to a -drinkin' man no longer than the effects of a dram, an' in the mind of -sech a fellow good intentions don't amount to no more than a swarm o' -insects that are born an' die in a day. Of course, some men _do_ reform. -I'm prayin' right now that the awful thing that happened t'other night -to Pole will be his tumin'-p'int, but I dunno. I'll walk on thin ice -over a lake o' fire till I kin see furder. Be that as it may, Cynthia, -I can't stand by an' see another unsuspectin' woman start in on the road -I've travelled--no, siree!" - -"I think you are exactly right," Cynthia said, under her breath, and -then she sighed deeply. "Well, good-night. I must go." She was turning -away, when Mrs. Baker called to her. - -"Stop, Cynthia!" she said. "You ain't mad at me, are you?" - -"Not a bit in the world," Cynthia answered. "In fact, I'm grateful for -your advice. I may never have a choice in such a matter, but I know you -mean it for my own good." - -As Cynthia entered the gate at home, her mother rose from a chair on the -porch. "Now I can go to bed," she remarked. "I have been awfully uneasy, -almost expecting to hear you scream out from that lonely meadow." - -"There was nothing to be afraid of, mother," and Cynthia passed on to -her own room. She closed the door and lighted her lamp, and then took -her Bible from the top drawer of her bureau and sat down at her table -and began to read it. She read chapter after chapter mechanically, her -despondent eyes doing work which never reached her throbbing brain. -Presently she realized this and closed the book. Rising, she went to -her window and looked across the grass-grown triangle to her mother's -window. It was dark. All the other windows were so, too. The house was -wrapped in slumber. She heard the clock strike nine. Really she must -go to bed, and yet she knew she would not sleep, and the thought of the -long, conscious hours till daybreak caused her to shudder. - -Perhaps twenty minutes had passed since the clock struck, when a sound -suddenly fell upon her ears that thrilled every muscle in her body. It -was the far-off call of a whippoorwill! Was it the cry of the real -bird or an imitation--_his_ imitation? She stood like a thing of stone, -straining her ears for its repetition. There! There it was again, and -nearer, clearer, more appealing. Ah, no creature of mere feathers and -flesh could have uttered that tentative, soulful note! It was Nelson -Floyd alive!--alive and wanting her--her first of all! Standing before -her mirror, she tried to tie up her hair, which had fallen loose upon -her shoulders, but her hands refused to do their office. Without a -second's deliberation she sprang to her door, opened it, and ran on to -the outer one. Passing through this, she glided across the porch and -softly sped over the grass in the direction of the sound. She heard it -again, in startling shrillness, and then, in the clear moonlight, she -saw Floyd standing in front of the grape-arbor. As she drew near her -heart stood still at the sight of the change which had come on him. It -lay like the tracing of Death's pencil on his brow, in his emaciated -features and loosely fitting, soiled, and unpressed clothing. For the -first time in her life she yielded herself without resistance to his -out-stretched arms. With no effort to prevent it, she allowed him to -press his lips to hers. Childlike, and as if in fear of losing him -again, she slid her arm round his neck and drew him tightly to her. -Neither uttered a word. Thus they remained for a moment, and then he led -her into the arbor and they sat down together, his arm still about her -body, her head on his breast. He was first to speak. - -"I was so afraid you'd not come," he panted, as if he had been walking -fast. "Have you heard of my trouble?" he went on, his voice sounding -strange and altered. - -She nodded on his breast, not wanting to see the pain she knew was -mirrored in his face. - -"Oh no, surely you haven't--that is, not--not what I learned in Atlanta -about my--my mother and father?" - -Again she nodded, pressing her brow upward against his chin in a mute -action of consolation and sympathy. - -He sighed. "I didn't think anybody knew that," he said. "That is, -anybody up here." - -"Mr. Mayhew went down and saw your uncle," Cynthia found voice to say, -finally. - -"Don't call him my uncle--he's not that, except as hell gives men -relatives. But I don't want to speak of him. The memory of his ashy -face, glittering eyes, and triumphant tone as he hurled those facts at -me is like a horrible nightmare. I'm not here to deny a thing, little -girl. I came to let you see me just as I am. I fell very low. No one -knows I'm here. I passed through Darley without meeting a soul I knew -and walked all the way here, dodging off the road when I heard the sound -of hoofs or wheels. I've come to you, Cynthia--only you. You are the -only one out of this part of my life that I ever want to see again. I am -not going to hide anything. After that revelation in Atlanta I sank as -low as a brute. I drank and lost my head. I spent several days in New -Orleans more like a demon than a human being--among gamblers, thieves, -and cutthroats. Two of my companions confessed to me that they were -escaped convicts put in for murder. I went on to Havana and came back -again to New Orleans. Yesterday I reached Atlanta. I learned that the -police had been trying to find me, and hid out. Last night, Cynthia, I -was drunk again; but this morning I woke up with a longing to throw -it all off, to be a man once more, and while I was thinking about it a -thought came to me like a flash of light from heaven thrown clear across -the black waste of hell. The thought came to me that, although I am a -nobody (that name has never passed my lips since I learned it was not my -own)--the thought came to me, I say, that there was one single and only -chance for me to return to manhood and obtain earthly happiness. Do you -follow me, dearest?" - -She raised her head and looked into his great, staring eyes. - -"Not quite, Nelson," she said, softly. "Not quite." - -"You see, I recalled that you, too, are not happy here at home, and, as -in my case, through no fault of your own--no fault, except being born -different from others around you. I remembered all you'd told me about -your mother's suspicious, exacting nature, and how hard you worked at -home, and how little real joy you got out of life, and then it came to -me that we both had as much right to happiness as any one else--you for -your hard life and I for all that I'd suffered. So I stopped drinking. -I have not touched a drop to-day, although a doctor down there said I -really needed a stimulant. You can see how nervous I am. I shake all -over. But I am stimulated by hope--that's it, Cynthia--hope! I've come -to tell you that you can make a man of me--that you have it in your -power to blot out all my trouble." - -"I don't see how, Nelson." Cynthia raised her head and looked into his -shadowy face wonderingly. - -"I've come here to ask you to leave this spot with me forever. I've got -unlimited means. Even since I've been away my iron lands in Alabama -and coal lands in Tennessee have sprung up marvellously in value. -This business here at the store is a mere trifle compared to other -investments of mine. We could go far away where no one knows of my -misfortune, and, hand-in-hand, make us a new home and new friends. Oh, -Cynthia, that holds out such dazzling promise to me that, honestly, all -the other fades away in contrast to it. Just to think, you'll be all -mine, all mine--alone with me in the wide, wide world! I have no legal -name to give you, it's true, but"--he laughed harshly--"we could put our -heads together and pick a pretty one, and call ourselves by it. I once -knew a man who was a foundling, and because they picked him up early in -the morning he was called 'Early.' That wouldn't sound bad, would it? -Mr. and Mrs. Early, from nowhere, but nice, good people. What do you -say, little girl? It all rests with you now. You are to decide whether I -rise or sink back again, for God knows I don't see how I could possibly -give you up. I have not acted right with you all along in not declaring -my love sooner, but I hardly knew my mind. It was not till that night -at the mill that I began to realize how dear you were to me, but it was -such a wonderful awakening that I did not speak of it as I should. But -why don't you say something, Cynthia? Surely you don't love any one -else--" - -She drew herself quite from his embrace, but, still clasping one of his -hands like an eager child, she said: - -"Nelson, I don't believe I'm foolish and impetuous like some girls I -know. You are asking me to take the most important step in a woman's -life, and I cannot decide hastily. You have been drinking, Nelson, you -acknowledge that frankly. In fact, I would have known it anyway, for you -are not like you used to be--even your voice has altered. Nelson, a man -who will give way to whiskey even in great trouble is not absolutely a -safe man. I'm unhappy, I'll admit it. I've suffered since you -disappeared as I never dreamed a woman could suffer, and yet--and yet -what you propose seems a very imprudent thing to do. When did you want -me to leave?" - -"A week from to-night," he said. "I can have everything ready by then -and will bring a horse and buggy. I'll leave them down below the orchard -and meet you right here. I'll whistle in the old way, and you must come -to me. For God's sake don't refuse. I promise to grant any request you -make. Not a single earthly wish of yours shall ever go unsatisfied. I -_know_ I can make you happy." - -Cynthia was silent for a moment. She drew her hand from his clasp. "I'll -promise this much," she said, in a low, firm voice. "I'll promise to -bring my decision here next Friday night. If I decide to go, I suppose -I'd better pack--" - -"Only a very few things," he interposed. "We shall stop in New Orleans -and you can get all you want. Oh, little girl, think of my sheer delight -over seeing you fairly loaded down with the beautiful things you ought -always to have had, and noting the wonder of everybody over your rare -beauty of face and form, and to know that you are all mine, that you -gave up everything for a nameless man! You will not go back on me, -dearest? You won't do it, after all I've been through?" - -Cynthia was silent after this burst of feeling, and he put his arm -around her and drew her, slightly resisting, into his embrace. - -"What is troubling you, darling?" he asked, tenderly. - -"I'm worried about your drinking," she faltered. "I've seen more misery -come from that habit than anything else in the world." - -"But I swear to you that not another drop shall ever pass my lips," -he said. "Why, darling, even with no promise to you to hold me back, -I voluntarily did without it to-day, when right now my whole system is -crying out for it and almost driving me mad. If I could do that of my -own accord, don't you see I could let it alone forever for your sake?" - -"But"--Cynthia raised her eyes to his--"between now and--and next Friday -night, will you--" - -"I shall be as sober as a judge when I come," he laughed, absorbing hope -from her question. "I shall come to you with the clearest head I ever -had--the clearest head and the lightest heart, little girl, for we are -going out together into a great, mysterious, dazzling world. You will -not refuse me? You are sent to me to repay me for all I've been through. -That's the way Providence acts. It brings us through misery and shadows -out into joy and light. My shadows have been dark, but my light--great -God, did mortal ever enter light such as ours will be!" - -"Well, I'll decide by next Friday night," Cynthia said; "that's all I -can promise now. It is a most important matter and I shall give it a -great deal of thought. I see the way you look at it." - -"But, Cynthia," he cautioned her, "don't tell a soul that I've been -here. They think I'm dead; let them continue to do so. Friday night just -leave a note saying that you have gone off with me and that you will -write the particulars later. But we won't write till we have put a good -many miles behind us. Your mother' will raise a lot of fuss, but we -can't help that." - -"I shall not mention it to any one," the girl agreed, and she rose and -stood before him, half turned to go. - -"Then kiss me, dearest," he pleaded, seizing her hands and holding them -tight--"kiss me of your own accord; you know you never have done that, -not even once, since I've known you." - -"No; don't ask me to do that," she said, firmly, "for that would be -absolute consent, and I tell you, Nelson, frankly, I have not yet fully -decided. You must not build on it too much." - -"Oh, don't talk that way, darling. Don't let me carry a horrible doubt -for a whole week. Do say something that will keep up my hopes." - -"All I can say is that I'll decide by Friday night," she repeated. "And -if I go I shall be ready. Good-night, Nelson; I can't stay out longer." -He walked with her as far as he could safely do so in the direction of -the farm-house, and then they parted without further words. - -"She'll go--the dear little thing," he said to himself, -enthusiastically, as he walked through the orchard. When he had climbed -over the fence he paused, looked back, and shrugged his shoulders. An -unpleasant thrill passed over him. It was the very spot on which he had -met Pole Baker that night and had been so soundly reprimanded for his -indiscretion in quitting Nathan Porter's premises in such a stealthy -manner. - -Suddenly Floyd pressed his hand to his waistcoat-pocket and drew out a -tiny object that glittered in the moonlight. "The engagement ring!" he -exclaimed, in a tone of deep disappointment; "and I forgot to give it -to her. What a fool I was, when she's never had a diamond in her life! -Well"--he looked hesitatingly towards the farm-house--"it wouldn't do -to call her back now. I'll keep it till Friday night. Like an idiot, -I forgot, too, in my excitement, to tell her where we are to be -married--that is, if she will go; but she won't desert me--I can trust -her. She will be my wife--_my wife!_" - - - - -XXXI - - -THE next morning, after breakfast, Mrs. Porter told her husband to -harness the horse and hitch him to the buggy. "I've got some butter -ready to sell," she explained, "and some few things to buy." - -"You'll gain lots by it," Nathan sneered, as he reluctantly proceeded -to do her bidding. "In the fust place it will take yore time fer half a -day, the hoss's time fer half a day, an' the wear an' tear on the buggy -will amount to more than all you git fer the butter. But that's the way -women calculate. They can't see an inch 'fore the'r noses." - -"I can see far enough before mine to hear you grumbling at dinner about -the coffee being out," she threw back at him; "something you, with all -your foresight, forgot yesterday." - -"Huh, I reckon the old lady did hit me that pop!" Nathan admitted to -himself as he walked away. "Fust thing I know I'll not be able to open -my mouth--women are gittin' so dern quick on the trigger--an', by gum, I -_did_ forgit that coffee, as necessary as the stuff is to my comfort." - -When Porter brought the horse and buggy around a few minutes later -his wife was ready on the porch with her pail of neatly packed butter. -Cynthia came to the door, but her mother only glanced at her coldly as -she took up her pail and climbed into the vehicle and grasped the reins. - -Reaching Mayhew & Floyd's store, she went in and showed the butter to -Joe Peters, who stood behind one of the counters. - -"I want eighteen cents a pound," she said. "If towns-people won't pay -it, they can't eat _my_ butter. Butter for less than that is white and -puffy and full of whey." - -"What did you want in exchange for it, Mrs. Porter?" the clerk asked. -"In trade, you know, we do better than for cash." - -"I want its worth in coffee," she said, "that's all." - -"We'll take it, then, and be glad to get it," Peters said, and he put -the firm, yellow lumps on the scales, made a calculation with a pencil -on a piece of wrapping-paper, and began to put up the coffee. Meanwhile, -she looked about her. Mayhew sat at a table in the rear. The light from -a window beyond him, falling on his gray head, made it look like a bunch -of cotton. - -"I reckon he's keeping his own books now that Nelson Floyd's away?" she -said, interrogatively, to the busy clerk. - -"A body mought call it book-keepin'," Peters laughed, "but it's all I -can do to make out his scratchin'. He writes an awful fist. The -truth is, we are terribly upset by Floyd's absence, Mrs. Porter. His -friends--folks that like 'im--come fer forty miles, clean across the -Tennessee line, to trade with him, and when they don't see him about -they go on with empty wagons to Darley. It's mighty nigh runnin' the -old man crazy. He sees now who was butterin' his bread. Ef Nelson was -to come back now the old cuss 'ud dress 'im out in purple an' fine linen -an' keep 'im in a glass case." - -"Do you expect Floyd to come back?" Mrs. Porter was putting the damp -napkin back into her empty pail. Indifference lay in her face and voice -but had not reached her nervous fingers. - -"Mrs. Porter"--Peters spoke lower. He came around the counter and joined -her on the threshold of the door--"I'm a-goin' to let you on to some'n' -that I'm afeard to tell even the old man. The Lord knows I wouldn't have -Mrs. Snodgrass an' her team git hold of it fer the world. You see, ef I -was to talk too much I mought lose my job. Anyway, I don't want to -express an opinion jest on bare suspicion, but I know you've got a -silent tongue in yore head, an' I think I know, too, why yo're -interested, an' I'm in sympathy with you an'--an' Miss--an' with all -concerned, Mrs. Porter." - -"You said you were going to tell me something," the old woman reminded -him, her glance on the court-house across the street, her voice tense, -probing, and somewhat resentful of his untactful reference to Cynthia. - -"I'm a-goin' to tell you this much," said Peters, "but it's in strict -confidence, Mrs. Porter. Thar has been a lot o' letters fer Floyd on all -sorts o' business affairs accumulatin' here. Mayhew's been openin' 'em -all an' keepin' 'em in a stack in a certain pigeon-hole of the desk. -Now, I seed them letters thar jest last night when I closed the store, -an' this mornin' early, when I opened up an' was sweepin' out, I missed -'em." - -"Ah, I see!" exclaimed Mrs. Porter, impulsively. "Well, ef you do, you -see more'n me," Peters went on, "fer I don't know how it happened. It's -bothered me all day. You see, I can't talk to the old man about it, -fer maybe he come down here some time last night an' got 'em fer some -purpose or other. An' then ag'in--well, thar is jest three keys to the -house, Mrs. Porter, the one the old man has, the one I tote, an' the one -Nelson Floyd tuck off with 'im." - -"So you have an idea that maybe--" - -"I hain't no idea about it, I tell you, Mrs. Porter, unless--unless -Nelson Floyd come back here last night an' come in the store an' got his -mail." - -"Ah, you think he may be back?" - -"I don't know that he is, you understand, but I'm a-goin' to hope that -he ain't dead, Mrs. Porter. Ef thar ever was a man I loved--that is to -say, downright _loved_--it was Nelson Floyd. La me! I could stand here -from now till sundown an' not git through tellin' you the things he's -done in my behalf. You remember--jest to mention one--that mother had -to be tuck to Atlanta to Dr. Winston to have a cancer cut out. Well, -she had no means, an' I didn't, an' we was in an awful plight--her jest -cryin' an' takin' on day an' night in the fear o' death. Well, Nelson -got onto it. He drawed me off behind the store one day--as white as a -sheet, bless your soul! fer it mighty nigh scared the boy to death to be -ketched at his good acts--an' he up an' told me he was goin' to pay the -whole bill, but that I mustn't tell nobody, an' I wouldn't tell you now -ef mean reports wasn't out agin 'im. I hardly knowed what to do, fer I -didn't want to be beholden to 'im to sech a great extent, but he made me -take the money, an', as you know, mother got well ag'in. Then what did -he do but raise my wages away up higher than any clerk in this part o' -the state gits. That mighty nigh caused a split betwixt him an' the old -man, but Nelson had his way. I tried to pay some on the debt, but he -wouldn't take it. He wouldn't even let me give 'im my note; he'd always -laugh an' turn it off, an' of late it sorter made 'im mad, an' I simply -had to quit talkin' about it." - -"He had his good side." Mrs. Porter yielded the point significantly. "I -never denied that. But a man that does good deeds half the time and bad -half the time gets a chance to do a sort of evil that men with worse -reputations don't run across." Mrs. Porter moved away towards her buggy, -and then she came back, and, looking him straight in the eye, she said, -"I hardly think, Joe, the fact that those letters are missing proves -that Nelson Floyd was here last night." - -"You don't think so, Mrs. Porter?" Peters' face fell. - -"No; Mr. Mayhew no doubt took them to look over. I understand he and -Pole Baker are trying to get track of Floyd. You see, they may have -hoped to get some clew from the letters." - -"That's a fact, Mrs. Porter," and, grown quite thoughtful, the clerk was -silent as he helped her into her buggy. - -"Huh!" she said to herself, as she started off. - -"Floyd's done a lot o' good deeds, has he? I've known men to act like -angels to set their consciences at rest after conduct that would make -the bad place itself turn pink in shame. I know your kind, Nelson Floyd, -and a little of you goes a long way." - - - - -XXXII - - -MRS. PORTER drove down the village street between the rows of scattered -houses till she arrived at a modest cottage with a white paling fence -in front and a few stunted flowers. Here she alighted. There was a -hitching-post, with an old horseshoe nailed near the top for a hook, -and, throwing the reins over it, she went into the yard. Some one came -to a window and parted the curtains. It was Hillhouse. He turned and -stepped quickly to the door, a startled expression of inquiry on his -face. - -"Come in, come in," he said. "Really, I wasn't looking for anybody to -drop in so early in the day; and this is the first time you've ever -called, Sister Porter." - -With a cold nod she walked past him into the little white-walled, -carpetless hall. - -"You've got a parlor, haven't you?" she asked, cautiously looking -around. - -"Oh yes; excuse me," he stammered, and he awkwardly opened a door on the -right. "Walk in, walk in. I'm awfully rattled this morning. Seeing you -so sudden made me--" - -"I hope the Marshall family across the street weren't watching as I got -out," she broke in, as she preceded him into the parlor. "People talk so -much here, and I wanted to see you privately. Let a woman with a grown -daughter go to an unmarried preacher's house and you never hear the last -of it." - -She sat down in a rocking-chair and looked about her, he thought, with -an expression of subdued excitement. The room was most simply furnished. -On the floor lay a rag carpet, with rugs of the same material. A cottage -organ stood in one corner, and a round, marble-topped table in the -centre of the room held a lamp and a plush-covered album. On the white -walls hung family portraits, black-and-white enlarged photographs. The -window looking towards the street had a green shade and white, stiffly -starched lace curtains.. - -"Your mother and sister--are they in the house?" Mrs. Porter asked. - -"No," he answered, standing in front of her. "They went over to McGill's -as soon as breakfast was finished. You know their little boy got kicked -by a mule yesterday." - -"Yes, I heard so, and I'm glad they are not here--though you'd better -tell them I came. If you don't, and the Marshalls happen to mention it -to them, they might think it strange." - -"You wanted to see me alone, then?" Hillhouse put out his stiff, -tentative hand and drew a chair to him and sat down in it. - -"Yes, I'm in trouble--great, great trouble," the old woman said, her -steely glance on his face; "and to tell you the truth, I don't see how -I'm going to get around it. I couldn't mention it to any one else but -you, not even Nathan nor mother. In fact, you ought to know, for it's -bound to worry you, too." - -"Oh, Sister Porter, what is it? Don't keep me waiting. I knew you were -in some trouble when I saw your face as you came in at the gate. Is it -about--" - -"Of course it's about Cynthia," sighed the woman--"about her and Nelson -Floyd." - -"He's dead, and she--" Hillhouse began, but Mrs. Porter stopped him. - -"No, that isn't it," she went on. "He's alive. He's back here." - -"Oh, is that so?" Hillhouse leaned forward, his face white, his thin -lips quivering. - -"Yes, I'll tell you about it," went on Mrs. Porter. "Of late I've been -unable to sleep for thinking of Cynthia and her actions, she's seemed -so reckless and despondent, and last night I left my bed and started to -creep in and see if she was asleep. I had on soft slippers and made no -noise, and had just got to the end of the hall, when her door opened and -she went out at the front." - -"Gone? Oh, don't--don't tell me that, Mrs. Porter!" - -"No, not that, quite; but wait till I am through," Mrs. Porter said, -her tone hard and crisp. "When I got to the porch I saw her just -disappearing in the orchard. And then I heard somebody whistling like a -whippoorwill. It was Nelson Floyd. He was standing at the grape-arbor, -and the two met there. They went inside and sat down, and then, as -there was a thick row of rose-bushes between the house and the arbor, I -slipped up behind it. I crouched down low till I was almost flat on the -ground. I heard every word that passed between them." - -Hillhouse said nothing. The veins in his forehead stood out full and -dark. Drops of perspiration, the dew of mental agony, appeared on his -cheeks. - -"Don't form hasty judgment," Mrs. Porter said. "If I ever doubted, or -feared my child's weakness on that man's account, I don't now. She's -as good and pure as the day she was born. In fact, I don't believe she -would have gone out to meet him that way if she hadn't been nearly crazy -over the uncertainty as to what had happened to him. I don't blame her; -I'd have done it myself if I'd cared as much for a man as she does about -him--or thinks she does." - -"You say you heard what passed?" Hillhouse panted. - -"Yes, and never since I was born have I heard such stuff as he poured -into that poor child's ears. As I listened to his talk, one instant my -heart would bleed with sympathy and the next I'd want to grab him by the -throat and strangle him. He was all hell and all heaven's angels bound -up in one human shape to entrap one frail human being. He went over all -his suffering from babyhood up, saying he had had as much put on him as -he could stand. He had come back by stealth and didn't want a soul but -her to know he was here; he didn't intend ever to face the sneers of -these folks and let them throw up his mother's sin to him. He'd been -on a long and terrible debauch, but had sobered up and promised to stay -that way if she would run away with him to some far-off place where no -soul would ever know his history. He had no end of funds, he said; he'd -made money on investments outside of Springtown, and he promised to -gratify every wish of hers. She was to have the finest and best in the -land, and get away from a miserable existence under my roof. Oh, I hate -him--poisoning her mind against the mother who nursed her!" - -"He wanted her to elope!" gasped Hillhouse--"to elope with a man just -off of a long drunk and with a record like that behind him--_her_, that -beautiful, patient child! But what did she say?" - -"At first she refused to go, as well as I could make out, and then she -told him she would have to think over it. He is to meet her at the same -place next Friday night, and if she decides to go between now and then -she will be ready." - -"Thank God, we've discovered it ahead of time!" Hillhouse said, -fervently, and he got up, and, with his head hanging low and his bony -hands clutched behind him over the tails of his long, black coat, he -walked back and forth from the window to the door. "I tell you, Sister -Porter," he almost sobbed, "I can't give her up to him. I can't, I tell -you. It isn't in me. I'd die rather than have her go off with him." - -"So would I--so would I, fearin' what I _now_ do," Mrs. Porter said, -without looking at him. - -"_Fearing what you now do?_" Hillhouse paused in front of her. - -"That's what I said." The old woman raised her eyes to his. Hillhouse -sank down into his chair, nursing a new-born alarm in his lap. - -"What do you mean, Sister Porter?" he asked, in a low tone. - -"Why, I mean that I never heard any thoroughly rational man on earth -talk just as Floyd did last night. I may be away off. I may be wronging -him badly, but not once in all his tirade did he say _right in so many -words_ that he meant actually to marry her." - -"Great God, the damnable wretch!" Hillhouse sprang again to his feet. -Mrs. Porter put out her hand and caught his arm and drew him down to his -chair again. - -"Don't decide hastily," she urged him. "I laid awake all night trying -to get it clear in my head. He had lots to say about the awful way the -world had treated him, and that he felt, having no name, that he was -unworthy of anybody as sweet and good as she was, but that if she would -go off with him he'd feel that she had sacrificed everything for him and -that that would recompense him for all he had lost. He even said that -Providence sometimes worked that way, giving people a lot to bear at -first, and then lifting them out of it all of a sudden." - -Hillhouse leaned forward till his elbows rested on his knees and he -covered his ghastly face with his hands. For a moment he was silent. -Mrs. Porter could hear him breathing heavily. Suddenly he looked at her -from eyes that were almost bloodshot. - -"_I_ understand him," he declared. "He fell into a drunkard's hell, -feeling that he was justified in such a course by his ill-luck, and -now he has deliberately persuaded himself that both he and she would be -justified in defying social customs--being a law unto themselves as it -were. It is just the sort of thing a man of his erratic character would -think of, and the damnable temptation is so dazzling that he is trying -to make himself believe they have a right to it." - -"Really, that was what I was afraid of," said Mrs. Porter, with a soft -groan. "I heard him tell her that he would never be called by the name -of Floyd again. Surely, a man has to have a name of some sort to get -legally married, doesn't he?" - -"Of course he has," said Hillhouse. "But, my God, Sister Porter, what -are you going to do?" - -"That's the trouble," answered the old woman. "I understand Cynthia well -enough to know that she will not be coerced in the matter. She is going -to think it all over, and if she decides to go with him no power on -earth will stop her. She looks already better satisfied. The only thing -I can see is for me to try to stir up her sympathies in some way. She's -tender-hearted; she'd hate to be the cause of my suffering. We must work -together, and in secret, Brother Hillhouse. - -"Work together, but how?" the preacher groaned. "I can't think of a -thing to do. If I appealed to her on the score of my love for her she -would only balance that off by his, and all she imagines the scoundrel -suffers." - -"Oh, his trouble is _real_ enough," Mrs. Porter declared. "I tell you -that in spite of my hatred for him, and even in spite of his cowardly -insinuations against me ringing in my ears last night, I felt sorry for -him. It would pierce a heart of stone to hear him talk as he did to her. -If she resists, she will be a stronger woman than I would have been at -her age and under the same circumstances. Pshaw! what would I have cared -if I'd loved a man with all my heart and fate had deprived him of a name -to give me--what would I have cared for the opinions of a little handful -of people pent up here in the mountains when he was asking me to go with -him out into the wide world and take my chances along with him? I don't -know, Brother Hillhouse, but that I'd have gloried in the opportunity to -say I was no better than he was. That's the way most women would look at -it; that's the way, I'm afraid, _she_ will look at it." - -The preacher turned upon her, cold fury snapping in his eyes and voice. -"You talk that way--_you!_" he snarled--"and you her mother! You are -almost arguing that because _his_ father and mother branded him as -they did that he and Cynthia have a right to--to brand their--their own -helpless offspring the same way. Sin can't be compromised with." - -"Ah, you are right. I wasn't looking far enough ahead," Mrs. Porter -acknowledged. "No, we must save her. Heaven could not possibly bless -such a step as that. I want her to hear somebody talk on that line. Say, -Brother Hillhouse, if I can get her to come to church to-morrow, could -you not, in a roundabout way, touch on that idea?" - -"God knows I am willing to try anything--anything!" the minister said, -despondently. "Yes, bring her, if she will come. She seems to listen to -me. I'll do my best." - -"Well, I'll bring her," Mrs. Sorter promised. "Good-morning. I'd better -get back. They will wonder what's keeping me." - - - - -XXXIII - - -FOR midsummer, the next morning was clear and cool. Nathan Porter -rolled the family spring-wagon down to the creek and washed off the -wheels and greased the axles. - -"Your pa's getting ready to drive us to church, Cynthia," Mrs. Porter -adroitly said to the girl as she was removing the dishes from the table -in the diningroom. "I wish you'd go with me. I hate to sit there with -just your pa." - -There was an instant's hesitation visible in Cynthia's sudden pause in -her work and the startled lift of her eyebrows. Then she said: - -"All right, mother, if you want me to, I'll go." - -"Well, then, go get out your white muslin and flowered hat. They become -you more than anything you wear." - -Without further words Cynthia left the room, and Mrs. Porter walked out -into the hall and stood in the front door-way. - -"Somehow, I imagine," she mused, "that she was thinking it would be her -last time at our church. I don't know what makes me think so, but she -had exactly that look in her face. I do wish I could go in and tell -mother all about it, but she's too old and childish to act with caution. -I can't go to Nathan, either, for he'd laugh at me; he'd not only do -that, but he'd tell it all over the country and drive Cynthia to -meet Floyd ahead of time. No, no; I must do the best I can with Mr. -Hillhouse's help. He loves her; he'd make her a good, safe husband, too, -while that dare-devil would most likely tire of her in a short time, and -take to drinking and leave her high and dry in some far-off place. No, -Floyd won't do to risk." - -The service was not well attended that morning, owing to a revival -in progress at Darley. Reports of the good music and high religious -excitement had drawn away a goodly number of Hillhouse's parishioners. -But, considering the odd nature of the discourse he had planned, this -was perhaps in the young preacher's favor. Indeed, as he sat in his -high-backed chair behind the little wooden stand, which held a ponderous -open Bible, a glass pitcher of water, and a tumbler, Mrs. Porter, as she -and Cynthia entered and took their usual places, thought he looked as -if he had not slept the preceding night. His skin was yellow, his hair -stood awry, and his eyes had a queer, shifting expression. Had his wily -old ally doubted that he intended to fulfil his promise to publicly -touch on the matter so near to them both, she could do so no longer -after he had risen and stood unconsciously swaying from side to side, as -he made some formal announcements in harsh, rigid tones. Indeed, he had -the appearance of a man who could have talked of only one thing, thought -of only one thing, that to which his whole being was nailed. His subject -was that of the sins of the fathers being visited upon their children, -even to the third and fourth generations. And Mrs. Porter shrank -guiltily as his almost desperate voice rang out in the still room How -was it possible for those around not to suspect--to know--that she had -instigated the sermon and brought her unsuspecting child there to be -swerved by it from the dangerous course she was pursuing? In former -sermons Hillhouse had unfailingly allowed his glance to rest on -Cynthia's face, but on this occasion he looked everywhere but at her. -As he proceeded, he seemed to take on confidence in his theme; his tone -rose high, clear, and firm, and quivered in the sheer audacity of his -aim. He showed, from that lesson, the serious responsibility resting on -each individual--each prospective mother and father. Then, all at once, -it dawned on the congregation that Floyd's misfortune had inspired the -discourse, and each man and woman bent breathlessly forward that -they might not lose a word. The picture was now most clear to their -intelligences. And seeing that they understood, and were sympathetically -following him, Hillhouse swept on, the bit of restraint between his -clinched teeth, to direct, personal reference. - -"We can take it home to ourselves, brothers and sisters," he went on, -passionately. "Even in our own humble, uneventful lives here in the -mountains, out of the great current of worldliness that flows through -the densely populated portions of our land, we have seen a terrible -result of this failure of man to do his duty to his posterity. Right -here in our midst the hand of God has fallen so heavily that the bright -hopes of sterling youth are crushed out completely. There was here among -us a fine specimen of mental and physical manhood, a young soul full of -hope and ambition. There was not a ripple on the calm surface of that -life, not a cloud in the clear sky of its future, when, without -warning, the shadow of God's hand spread over it. The awful past was -unrolled--one man and woman, for selfish, personal desires, were at -the root of it all. Some shallow thinkers claim that there is no hell, -neither spiritual nor material. To convince such individuals I would -point the scornful finger of proof to the agony of that young man. Are -they--that selfish couple--enjoying the bliss of the redeemed and he, -the helpless product of their sin, suffering as you know he must be -suffering? In this case the tangible and visible must establish the -verity of the vague and invisible. They are paying the debt--somewhere, -somehow--you may count on that." Mrs. Porter, with bated breath, eyed -Cynthia askance. To her astonishment a flush had risen into the girl's -cheeks, and there was in her steady eye something like the thin-spread -tear of deep and glorified emotion, as she sat with tightly clasped -hands, her breast tumultuously heaving. The house was very still, so -still that the rustling of the leaves in the trees near the open windows -now and then swept like the soft sighing of grief-stricken nature -through the room. Hillhouse, a baffled, almost hunted look on his gaunt -face, paused to take a sup of water, and for one instant his eyes met -Cynthia's as he wiped his mouth on his handkerchief and with trembling -hands returned it to his pocket. Mrs. Porter was conscious of the -impression that he had not quite carried the subject to its logical -climax, and was wondering how it had happened, when Hillhouse almost -abruptly closed his discourse. He sat down, as if crushed by the weight -of defeat, and looked steadily and despondently at the floor, while the -congregation stood and sang the doxology. Then he rose and, with hands -out-stretched as stiffly as those of a wired skeleton, he pronounced the -benediction. - -As they were turning to leave, Cynthia and her mother faced old Nathan, -who stood waiting for them. - -"Hillhouse don't look one bit well to-day," he observed, as they were -going out. "I'll bet he's been eatin' some o' the fool stuff women an' -gals has been concoctin' to bewitch 'im with. They say the shortest road -to a man's heart is through his stomach--it's the quickest route to a -man's grave, too, I'm here to state to you." - -"Oh, do hush!" Mrs. Porter exclaimed, her mind on something foreign -to Nathan's comment. "You two walk on; I'm going to shake hands with -Brother Hillhouse and ask about his mother." - -She fell back behind the crowd surging through the door, and waited for -the preacher to come down the aisle to her. - -"I couldn't see exactly what you were driving at," she said, extending -her hand. "I never heard finer argument or argument put in better -language than what you said, but it seemed to me you left off -something." - -"I _did_," he said, desperately. "I was going to end up with the evil -tendencies he had inherited from his parents, and the pitfalls such a -man would lead others into, but I couldn't drive my tongue to it. I had -gone too far in dilating on his wrongs for that, and then I caught sight -of Cynthia's face. I read it. I read through it down into the depths of -her soul. What I was saying was only making her glory in the prospect of -self-sacrifice in his behalf. When I saw that--when I realized that it -will take a miracle of God to snatch her from him, I felt everything -swimming about me. Her flushed face, her sparkling, piercing eyes, drove -me wild. I started in to attack him behind his back and was foiled in -the effort. But I won't give up. I can't lose her--I _can't_, I tell -you! She was made for me. I was made for her, and she would realize it -if this devil's dream would pass." - -Mrs. Porter sighed. "I don't know what to do," she declared. "If I could -trust him, I'd give in, but I can't. I can't let my only child go off -with any man of his stamp, on those conditions. But I must run on--they -are waiting for me. She must never suspect that this was done for her -benefit." - -It was the afternoon of the day set for the meeting between Cynthia and -Floyd. Mrs. Porter, still carrying her weighty secret, went into town -actuated by nothing but the hope that she might accidentally meet -Hillhouse. He seemed to be on the lookout for her, for he came down the -street from the village square and waited for her to join him near the -hitching-rack and public trough for the watering of horses. - -"I was on the way to see you," she said, looking about her cautiously, -as if averse to being seen in his company. - -"In answer to my prayer," he replied. "I'm suffering great agony, Sister -Porter." - -"Well, you are not any worse off than I am," she made answer. "She's my -only child." - -He leaned towards her till his face was close to her own. "Something -must be done," he said. "I'm ready for anything. I can't bear it any -longer. Last night the devil rose in me and conquered me. I was ready to -kill him." - -"And after all those beautiful things"--Mrs. Porter smiled calmly--"that -you said about him in your sermon." - -"The feeling didn't last long," Hillhouse said, gloomily. "It swept -through me like a storm and left me on my knees praying God to spare -her. Did she make any comment on my sermon?" - -"No, but I saw it failed to affect her as we wanted it to. I have kept a -close watch on her. At times she's had the appearance of a woman giving -up all hope, and then again a rebellious look would come in her face, -and she'd move about with a quick step, her head up and a defiant -expression, as if she was telling herself that she had a right to her -happiness, and would have it at any cost." - -"Ah, I guess she loves him," Hillhouse sighed; "and she is fascinated by -his hellish proposal and the thought that she is sacrificing something -for his sake. I wish I could abuse him, but I can't. I can't blame him -for trying to get her; it is no more than any man would do, any man who -knows what she is." - -"I want to ask you one thing, Brother Hillhouse"--Mrs. Porter was -looking at a row of cottages across the square--"and I ask it as a -member of your church and a woman that don't want to commit unpardonable -sin. So far, I've tried to obey the commandments to the letter. I -want to know if I'd ever be forgiven if I was to descend to downright -deception--lying with my tongue and lying in my actions--that is, I -mean, if, by so doing, I could save my child from this thing?" - -Hillhouse avoided her piercing eyes; his own shifted under lowering -brows. - -"If you could actually save her?" he said. - -"Yes, if I could make her give him up--send him off?" - -"I'll answer you this way," Hillhouse replied. - -"If she were in a room and a madman came searching for her with a pistol -and a long knife bent upon killing her, and if he were to ask you, as -you stood at the door, if she were inside, would you say yes?" - -"Of course I wouldn't." - -"Well, there's your answer," said the preacher. "He's a madman--mad -in soul, brain, and body. He is seeking her eternal damnation, and -the damnation of unborn souls. Lie?" He laughed sardonically. "Sister -Porter, I could stand before God and lie that way, and wink at the -angels hovering over the throne." - -"I reckon you are right," said the woman; "but I wanted to make sure. -And let me tell you something. If I _do_ resort to lying I'll put up a -good one, and I'll back it up by acting that she nor no one else could -see through. Let me alone. Leave it to me. It's my last card, but I feel -like it's going to win. I'm going home now. I can hardly walk, I feel so -weak at the knees. I haven't slept regular since this thing came up. I'm -going crazy--I know I am." - -"Would you mind telling me what you intend to do?" Hillhouse asked, -almost hopefully. - -"No, I'm not ready to do that yet, but it will have a powerful effect -on her. The only thing that bothered me was the sin of it, but since -you think I'd have the right I'll throw my whole soul into it. She's so -pure-minded that she won't suspect me." - -"God grant that you succeed," Hillhouse said, fervently, and he stood as -if rooted to the spot, and watched her till she had disappeared down the -road leading to her home. - - - - -XXXIV - - -DURING supper that evening Mrs. Porter eyed her daughter furtively. -Cynthia ate very little and seemed abstracted, paying no heed to her -father's rambling, inconsequential remarks to her grandmother, who, -in her white lace cap, sat across the table from him. Supper over, the -family went out, leaving Cynthia to put the dishes away. Mrs. Radcliffe -shambled quietly to her own room, and Porter took his pipe to his -favorite chair on the porch. Being thus at liberty to carry out her -own plans, Mrs. Porter stole unnoticed into Cynthia's room, and in the -half-darkness looked about her. The room was in thorough order. The -white bedspread was as smooth as a drift of snow, and the pillows had -not a wrinkle or a crease. The old woman noiselessly opened the top -drawer of the bureau; here everything was in its place. She looked in -the next and the next with the same result. Then she stood erect in the -centre of the room, an expression of perplexity on her face. Suddenly -she seemed to have an inspiration, and she went to the girl's closet and -opened the door. And there, under a soiled dress belonging to Cynthia, -she found a travelling-bag closely packed. - -With a soundless groan, Mrs. Porter dropped the dress, closed the -closet-door, and moved back to the centre of the room. - -"My God! my God!" she cried. "I can't stand it! She's fully made up her -mind." - -Mrs. Porter left the room, and, passing her husband, whose placid face -appeared intermittently in a red disk of light on the end of the porch, -she went down the steps into the yard and thence around the house -towards the orchard and grape-arbor. She paused among the trees, looking -thoughtfully at the ground. - -"If I'm going to do it," she reflected, "I'd better throw out some hint -in advance, to sort of lead up to it. I wonder if my mind is actually -giving way? I am sure I've been through enough to--but somebody is -coming." - -It was Cynthia, and she came daintily over the dewy grass. - -"Mother, is that you?" she called out. - -Mrs. Porter made no reply. - -"Mother, is that--but why didn't you answer me?" Cynthia came up, a -searching look of inquiry in her eyes. - -Still Mrs. Porter showed not the slightest indication of being aware -of her presence. Cynthia, in increasing surprise, laid her hand on her -mother's arm, but Mrs. Porter shook it off impatiently. - -"Look here, Nathan, if you don't quit following me up, dogging my steps, -and bothering me with your--" Mrs. Porter broke off, looking blankly -into Cynthia's face. - -"Why, mother, what is the matter?" the girl exclaimed. - -"Oh, you look like--you look like--" Mrs. Porter moved to a near-by -apple-tree and leaned against its trunk, and with her head down she -began to laugh softly, almost sillily. Cynthia drew near her again, and, -catching the old woman by the shoulders, she turned her forcibly to her. - -"Mother, what's the matter?" she demanded, her tone now quite full of -alarm. . - -"Oh, Cynthia, nothing is the matter with me! I'm all right, but, but, -but--good gracious! just this minute you were--we were all at the -table. Your pa was in his place, mother was in hers, and, how in the -world"--Mrs. Porter was looking around in seeming astonishment--"how in -the world did I get out here? I don't remember leaving the house. The -last thing I recall was--" - -"Mother, what's the matter?" - -Mrs. Porter stared in a bewildered way at her daughter for a moment, -then she put her hand to her brow with a weary gesture. "Something -_must_ be wrong with me," she declared. "I didn't want to mention it, -but this evening as I was coming back from town I got rather warm, and -all at once I heard a little sound and felt something give way in my -head. Oh, Cynthia, I'm afraid--I'm afraid I'm going like your aunt -Martha did. They say hers was a drop of blood on the brain. Do you -suppose it could be that, daughter?" - -"Oh, mother, come on in the house and lie down. Go to bed, and you -will feel better in the morning." Cynthia caught her arm, and, greatly -perturbed, slowly led the old woman towards the house. - -"It's worry, daughter," Mrs. Porter said, confidingly--"worry about you. -You seem to be bothered on account of Nelson Floyd's being away, and -I've allowed that to prey on my thoughts." - -"Never mind him, mother," Cynthia said. "Come on in and lie down. You -don't feel any pain, do you?" - -"No, daughter, not a bit--not a bit; but your aunt didn't, either. She -didn't suffer." - -"Don't you think we ought to send for the doctor, mother?" - -"Doctor? No--how ridiculous! Even if it is a drop on the brain, he -couldn't do me a bit of good. The brain is inside the--the--what do -you call it? See there, my mind isn't what it was. I can't think of as -common a thing as a--you know what I mean, Cynthia." - -"You mean skull, mother," the girl said, anxiously. - -"Yes, I mean that. Your aunt's memory was bad, too. She suddenly forgot -her own name, and came in from the strawberry-patch one day scared out -of her senses. The next thing was her hand getting numb. My thumb feels -queer; I believe you could stick a needle through it and I wouldn't feel -it. But don't you tell your pa, Cynthia. Wait, anyway, till to-morrow, -and see how I feel then. It may pass away, and then--then, again, it may -be the first stroke. They say people about my age usually have three, -and the last one ends it. I hope I'll go naturally--the way Martha went -was horrible; and yet when I think of all my trouble I--" - -"Hush, mother, don't!" Cynthia cried. They had now reached the porch. -Porter had retired, and so they passed on unnoticed to Mrs. Porter's -room. - -Cynthia helped her mother undress and get into the bed, and then she -went to her own room and sat down, irresolutely, at her table. She -leaned her head on her crossed arms and remained quite still. She was -very tired in brain and body, and presently dropped to sleep. She slept -for about two hours. Suddenly she waked with a start. The clock in the -sitting-room was striking ten. Nelson would be at the grape-arbor soon, -she told herself with a shudder. Perhaps he was already there, and too -cautious to whistle as on former meetings. She stood up, tiptoed to the -closet, and opened the door. She uncovered the hidden valise and lifted -it out into the light. Then a recollection of her mother's strange -condition struck her like a blow in the face, and, standing in the -centre of the room, she sighed. - -Just then she heard the tread of bare feet in the hall, and a -low-mumbled monologue. Her heart stood still, for she recognized her -mother's voice. Going softly to the door, she peered out, and there, -in a thin, white dress, stood Mrs. Porter, Nathan's double-barrelled -shot-gun clutched in her hand, her long hair hanging loose on her -back. The old woman's face was averted, and she seemed unaware of her -daughter's presence. - -"Lord, my God, pardon me for this last act," she was praying. "It may be -a sin in Thy sight for a tortured person to seek escape from trouble by -this course, but I can't stand it any longer." - -"Mother, what is this?" Cynthia darted out into the hall and snatched -the gun from her mother's hands. - -For an instant Mrs. Porter stood staring at her daughter, and then, as -if to escape her glance, she turned and went slowly into Cynthia's room. - -"Sh!" she said; "don't wake your pa." And, seeing Cynthia's lamp burning -low, she blew down the chimney and put it out. The room was now dark -save for the moonlight that struggled in at the windows on each side of -the drawn shades. - -"Mother, you've got to tell me," Cynthia demanded, as she leaned the -cumbersome weapon against the wall and groped towards the still, white -figure; "what were you going to do with that gun?" - -Mrs. Porter said nothing, but moved backward to Cynthia's bed and, with -a groan, sat down on it. - -"Mother"--Cynthia leaned over her, a horrible fear gripping her -heart-cords--"what were you about to do?" - -"I don't know as I am obliged to tell you or anybody," Mrs. Porter said, -doggedly. - -"Mother"--Cynthia sat down by the old woman and put her arm about the -gaunt figure--"what were you going to do?" - -"I was going to get out of my trouble, if you _will_ know," Mrs. Porter -said, looking her daughter defiantly in the face. - -"Your trouble, mother?" - -"Yes, I've borne it as long as I can. Huh! you can't guess how much I -know. I was awake last Friday night and overheard your plan to run off -with Nelson Floyd. I was in a yard of you, crouched down behind the -rose-bushes. You said you'd decide by to-night, and ever since then -I've been tortured like a condemned soul. That's what affected my brain -to-day. It wasn't the sun. Since that awful hour I have been praying God -to spare you--to have mercy on my misguided child, and I hoped He would -do it, but to-night, while you were putting the dishes away, I came in -here and saw your packed valise, and knew you had concluded to leave. -Then--then I decided to--to go like Sister Martha did. I was going out -in the meadow, by the creek, where it was quiet. I couldn't bear the -thought of having to face all those curious people who will throng the -house to-morrow to find out about your disgrace." - -"You say you were there?" Cynthia gasped--"you heard?" - -"Every word," answered Mrs. Porter; "and every one was a rusty nail in -my heart." - -There was silence. Cynthia had no defence to offer. She simply sat with -bowed head, her arm lying limp upon her mother's thinly clad shoulders.' - -"Yes, you made up your mind to stain forever our family record. No other -girl that I ever heard of, even among our far-off kin, ever threw away -her honor as you--" - -"Stop, mother, you are going too far!" Cynthia cried, removing her arm -and standing erect before the old woman. - -"Cynthia, my _poor, poor baby!_ in all that man said the other night he -didn't once mention marriage. - -"But he meant it, mother!" broke from the girl's pallid lips--"he meant -it!" - -"He didn't mean anything of the kind, you little fool! As plain as plain -could be, he said, right out, that he had no name to give you. And any -fool knows no marriage can be legal unless it is brought about under the -lawful names of the contracting parties. He simply was trying to give -you to understand that he wanted you as a companion in his sin and -misery. He has lost his right to a foothold in society, and he wants -you, of your own accord and free will, to renounce yours. It was a crazy -idea, and one that could have come from none but a brain disordered by -liquor, but that is what he had in view." - -"I don't believe it," Cynthia said, firmly. - -"It doesn't make any difference what you believe," Mrs. Porter returned. -"I'm older than you, and I see through him. He tried and tried to ruin -you as he did Minnie Wade, but when he was reduced to despair by his -trouble he rose from his debauch and wanted to turn his very misfortune -to your undoing. The idiot was trying to make himself believe, because -his parents had brought all that nastiness down on him, that he would be -justified in a like course. The disgrace he had inherited he intended to -hand down to another generation, and you--you poor, simple thing!--you -calmly packed your white, unspotted things and were ready to sell -yourself to his hellish purpose." - -There was awful silence. Cynthia stared, unable to utter a word. She may -have doubted the fairness of her mother's version, but the grim picture -painted there in the darkness by a woman in seeming readiness to take -her own life on account of it fairly chilled her young life's blood. -Suddenly a sound broke the outside stillness. There was no mistaking it. -It rang out as shrilly on the girl's quaking consciousness as the shriek -of a locomotive dashing through a mountain gorge. - -"There he is now," said Mrs. Porter. "Pick up your valise and hurry, -hurry to him; but before you go hand me that gun. Before you and he get -in that buggy you'll hear my death-knell, and you may know, too, that -you fired the shot into the withered breast that nursed you. Go! I'm not -keeping you!" - -Cynthia swayed visibly in the darkness, and then she sank to her knees -and put her head in her mother's lap. - -"I won't go," she groaned, softly. "Mother, I'll do anything you -say--anything!" - -"Now you are joking, I know," Mrs. Porter said, harshly. - -"No, I mean it--God knows I mean it, mother! Only give me a chance -to prove that I mean it. I'll never see him again, if that will suit -you--never on earth! I'll stay and nurse you and make you well." - -"If I thought you meant that, Cynthia--Lord, Lord, what a load it would -take off of me! Don't--don't say that unless you mean it; the--the joy -of saving you would almost kill me." - -"Oh, mother, God knows I mean it!" - -"Then"--Mrs. Porter seemed to squeeze her words from her frail body -as she stiffly rose to her feet--"then you must let me go, myself, out -there and send him off." - -Cynthia, still on her knees, glanced up, her startled eyes wide open. - -"Would you ask that, mother?" - -"Yes, for in my present condition I'm afraid I'd never believe it was -absolutely settled. I--I'm not as clear-headed as I used to be. I've got -deep-rooted suspicions, and I'm afraid they would prey on my mind." - -"Then go, mother--go send him away. I'd rather never see him again on -earth than to cause you to--to contemplate--but go, mother!" - -"Well, you stay here then." Mrs. Porter was moving towards the door. -"I'll be easy with him. I'm so happy over this release that I feel -grateful even to him. I'll be gentle, Cynthia." - -As she stood in the door-way of the chamber and glanced back, Mrs. -Porter saw Cynthia throw herself face downward on the bed. The old woman -was in the hall making her way towards the front-door when she heard -Cynthia call her. Retracing her steps, she found her daughter sitting -up. - -"Mother," the girl said, "let me go with you. You can hear all that -passes between us. That ought to be satisfactory." - -"No, that won't suit me," Mrs. Porter said, firmly. "I've set my heart -on your never facing that man again. For you to go, it would look like -you are crazy after him, and he'd hang around here no telling how long." - -"Then go on, mother." Cynthia fell back on the bed, and, covering her -face with her hands, lay still. - - - - -XXXV - - -AS Mrs. Porter stepped down into the yard the whippoorwill call sounded -again. "Huh!" she said to herself, exultingly, "I reckon I'll reach -there soon enough to suit you, Nelson Floyd. You wanted to get her away -from her mother's tongue, did you? Well, you'll find that I'm no fool, -if I _am_ old." - -As she emerged from the shade of the apple-trees into the little open -in front of the grape-arbor, Nelson Floyd, the red, impatient flare of a -cigar in his face, appeared in the door-way. - -"Thank God you didn't fail me!" he exclaimed, in accents of vast relief. -"For a while I was actually afraid--" - -"Afraid that I wouldn't be on time!" Mrs. Porter broke in, with a -metallic little laugh. "I always keep my engagements, Nelson Floyd--or, -I beg your pardon, Cynthia says you don't call yourself by that name -now." - -"Great God, it's _you!_" he exclaimed, and his cigar fell at his feet. -"Why, Mrs. Porter--" - -"Oh, we needn't stand here and take up time talking about whether it's -going to rain or not," she sneered. "The truth is, I'm due in bed. I've -been asleep in my chair half a dozen times since supper. You see, I -promised Cynthia that I'd keep this appointment for her, and she tumbled -into bed, and is snoozing along at a great rate, while I am doing her -work." - -"You--you promised--I--I--don't understand," Floyd managed to get out -of the chaos of his brain. - -"Oh, I reckon you don't see it exactly _our_ way," Mrs. Porter sneered. -"And that's because of your high opinion of your own charm. There is -nothing on earth that will lead a man from the road of fact as quick as -vanity. You thought my girl would jump at your proposition, but, la me! -she just dallied with you to get you away last Friday night. At least, -that's what I think, for she brought the whole thing to me the next -morning, even telling me how you abused me behind my back. She asked me -how she'd better get out of it. Most girls plunge headlong into things -of this kind without deliberation, but she's not that way. She generally -looks ahead, and the truth is, if I may tell state secrets, she has a -strong leaning towards Brother Hillhouse. He's a good man--a man that -can be counted on--and a man with a respectable family behind him, and, -while I'm not sure about it, I think she intends to accept him." - -"Great God, Mrs. Porter, you don't mean that she--" - -"You see there! I knew you were incapable of seeing anything that don't -tend to your own glory. You thought all along that my girl was crazy -about you, but you didn't know her. She's no fool. She's got a long head -on her shoulders." - -"But didn't she--she send me any message?" Floyd asked, in a tone of -abject bewilderment. - -"Oh yes, now I come to think of it, she did. She said for me to beg you -never to bother her any more." - -"She said that? Oh, Mrs. Porter, I--" - -"Yes, and just as she was cuddling up in bed"--Mrs. Porter's selection -of words had never been so adroit--"she called me to her and said that -she wondered if you would mind never telling how foolish she had been to -meet you out here like she did. I don't know why she was so particular, -unless it is that people in this day and time love to throw up to a -preacher's wife all the imprudent things she did when she was young." - -"Mrs. Porter, do you actually think Cynthia loves that man?" Floyd's -voice shook, and he leaned heavily against the frame of the arbor. - -"Love him? How can anybody tell who a woman loves? They don't know -themselves half the time; but I'll say this to you: Mr. Hillhouse has -been courting her in an open, straightforward way, and that pleased her. -He's a man of brains, too, and is going to work his way high up in his -profession. He'll be a great light some day. The regard of a man like -that is a compliment to a poor country girl; and then she is sure of a -life of solid respectability, while with you--good gracious! What's the -use of talking about it? But you haven't told me whether you will agree -not to bother her again. She'll be anxious to know what you said about -that. You see, you might get drunk again, and there is no telling how -foolish and persistent you may become, and--" - -"I shall not bother her again," said Floyd. "Tell her I gave you my -faithful promise on that. Not only that, but I am going away, and shall -never come back here again." - -"Well, I'll tell her--I'll tell her in the morning as soon as she wakes -up. La me! I used to be a girl myself, and there was no bother equal -to having an old beau hanging around, as we girls used to say in slang, -after he'd got his 'walking papers'--that is, after the right man was -settled on." - -"There is one thing I want you to tell her"--Floyd breathed -heavily--"and that is that I'll never care for any other girl." - -"Shucks! I won't take any such message as that," the old woman sniffed. -"Besides, what's the use? After a flirtation is laid away it ought -to die a natural death. The biggest wasters of time in the world are -married women who love to look back on old love-scrapes, and sit -and brag about them, instead of mending socks and attending to the -responsibilities that are piled up on every hand. Well, I'm going in -now. It's been a long, hot day, but in this thin dress I feel chilly. I -don't want to be hard on you, and I wish you well, so I do, where-ever -you go." - -"Thank you, Mrs. Porter," and, with his head hanging low, Nelson Floyd -turned to leave. "I can only assure you," he added, "that I'll never -trouble Cynthia any more. I shall certainly respect her wish." - -"All right; that's as much as she could ask of you," the old woman -returned; "and perhaps, since you are so polite, I ought to thank you." - -As she was drawing near the house, she said to herself with a low, -satisfied chuckle: "I believe I worked him exactly right. If I'd 'a' let -him know I suspected his full villany he wouldn't have been shaken off -so easily. But what am I going to do about that drop of blood on my -brain?" she laughed. "If I get rid of it too suddenly Cynthia may smell -a mouse. I believe I'll wait a few days and then tell her I think my -stroke was due to that new hair-restorer I'm using, an' promise to throw -it away." She paused at the steps and shuddered. "But am I not really a -little off?" she mused. "Surely no woman in the full possession of her -senses could have gone through all that, as if it were God's truth from -beginning to end." - -Inside the hall, after she had softly shut the front door, she saw -Cynthia standing on the threshold of her chamber. - -"Did you see him, mother?" The question was hardly above a whisper. - -"Oh yes, I saw him," the old woman answered, frigidly. "I saw him." - -"What did he say, mother?" The girl's voice was low, tremulous, and -halting. - -"Oh, I don't know as he said much of anything, he was so set back -by seeing me in this outfit instead of you in your best -Sunday-go-to-meeting, with your valise in hand, ready to fly to the -moon with him. He let me do most of the talking." Mrs. Porter managed -to stifle a chuckle of satisfaction, and the darkness hid her impulsive -smile. "He seemed to be more reasonable, though, than most men would -be in his condition. I don't think he was fully sober; he smoked like a -steam-engine, dropping cigars and lighting fresh ones, as if they were -his main-stay and support. He agreed with me, in a roundabout way, that -it was a foolish thing for him to expect a respectable girl to run off -in the dead of night with a man of his stamp, and he ended by saying for -me to tell you that he was going away off somewhere and that he wouldn't -bother you any more. He looked and acted like a thief caught on the -spot with the goods in hand and was ready to promise anything to escape -arrest and prosecution." - -"Well, you have had your way, mother," Cynthia said, quietly; "I hope -you will feel better satisfied now." - -"Oh, I will, I will--in fact, I feel some better already." There was -another incipient chuckle far down in Mrs. Porter's throat, but she -coughed it away. "I really feel like I'm going to get well. I'll sleep -like a log to-night. You'd better turn in yourself, daughter." - -"All right, mother--good-night." - -The next morning, shortly after breakfast, as Mrs. Porter was attending -to some hens' nests in the barn-yard, Hillhouse crept out of the thicket -just beyond the fence and approached her. He was quite pale and nervous, -and bent his head and shoulders that the high staked-and-ridered -rail-fence might hide him from the view of the house. - -"I've been out here in the woods for an hour watching your back-door," -he said. "I was in hopes that I'd see Cynthia moving about in the -diningroom or kitchen. You see, I don't know yet whether she went off -last night or stayed. I haven't closed my eyes since I saw you." - -"Well, you _have_ got it bad," Mrs. Porter laughed, dryly, "and you -needn't worry any more. I reckon I spilled ink all over my record in the -Lamb's Book of Life, but I set in to succeed, and I worked it so fine -that she let me go out and send him away for good and all." - -"Oh, Sister Porter, is that true?" - -"It's a great deal truer than anything that passed my lips last night," -Mrs. Porter answered, crisply. "Brother Phillhouse, if I ever get -forgiveness, there is one of the commandments that will have to be cut -out of the list, for I certainly broke it all to smash. I had a separate -lie stowed away in every pore of my skin last night, and they hung like -cockle-burs to every hair of my head. I wish I was a Catholic." - -"A Catholic?" Hillhouse repeated, his eyes dancing in delight, his -sallow skin taking on color. - -"Yes, I'd sell our horses and cows and land, and give it to a priest, -and tell him to wipe my soul clean with the proceeds. I feel happy, -and I feel mean. Something tells me that I'd have made an expert woman -thief--perhaps the greatest in the history of all nations." - -"What sort of fibs did you tell, Sister Porter?" Hillhouse was smiling -unctuously and rubbing his long hands together. - -"Well, I don't intend to tell you," said the old woman; "besides, it -would take a week. I spun the finest fabric of falsehood that was ever -made. And I'm not done yet, for I've got to keep it up, and not let it -lop off too suddenly." - -"Well, do you think there will be any living chance for me?" the -preacher said. - -"Yes, I do--that is, if you won't push matters too fast and will be -patient. I have a plan now that you will like. Didn't you tell me you -were going to preach two sermons this month at Cartersville?" - -"Yes, I take Brother Johnston's place for two weeks while he goes off -for his vacation." - -"Well," said Mrs. Porter, "you know Nathan's brother George lives there. -In fact, his wife and daughters belong to Mr. Johnston's church. George -is a well-to-do lawyer, and his children dote on Cynthia; now I'm going -to send her down there for a change." - -"Oh, that will be simply fine!" Hillhouse cried, his face aglow. - -"Yes, and if you can't make hay while the sun shines down there, you'll -deserve to fail. Cynthia has promised to give Floyd up, and he's agreed -not to bother her any more. Now you slip back into the woods. I wouldn't -have her see you here at this time of day for anything. When she gets -her thinking apparatus to work she's going to do a lot of wondering, -anyway." - - - - -XXXVI - - -TEN days passed. It was now towards the close of a hot and sultry -August. Nothing more had been heard of Nelson Floyd, and the sensation -due to his mysterious absence had, to some extent, subsided. That Mayhew -knew of his whereabouts few persons doubted, for it was noticeable -that the old man had put his shoulder to the wheel and was attending -to business with less fear and nervousness. It was the opinion of Mrs. -Snodgrass that he knew exactly where Floyd was, and expected him to -return sooner or later. In fact, it was known to many that Mayhew had -suddenly ceased to make inquiry through detectives and the police, and -that meant something. The information that Floyd had been back in secret -to his home would have startled the community from centre to outer edge, -but that was discreetly kept to themselves by the few who knew of it. - -Pole Baker was the first to meet Floyd again. It was in Atlanta. -Standing in the main entrance of the Kimball House one afternoon, Pole -saw Floyd on the opposite side of the street. He was walking rapidly, -his head up. He was neatly dressed, cleanshaven, and had a clear, -healthful complexion, as if he were in good physical condition. - -"Thank God! thar he goes," Pole exclaimed, "an' I'll bet a hoss he's -quit drinkin'." Quickly darting across the street, he followed Floyd -the best he could on the crowded sidewalk. He had pursued him thus for -several blocks when Floyd suddenly entered one of the large wholesale -dry-goods stores. Reaching the door and looking in, Pole saw his friend -just disappearing in the glass-enclosed office in the rear of the big -room. Pole entered and stood waiting amid the stacks of cotton and -woollen goods which, in rolls and bolts, were heaped as high as his -shoulders over the whole floor. Salesmen were busy with customers in -different parts of the room, and porters and "stock men" hurried by with -big baskets on wheels, and little notice was taken of the mountaineer. - -Presently Floyd emerged and came rapidly down one of the aisles towards -the door. Pole stepped directly in front of him. - -"Why, hello!" Floyd exclaimed, flushing suddenly as he cordially -extended his hand. "I wasn't looking for you, Pole." - -"Well, you differ from me," said Baker; "that's just what I was doin'. -I was lookin' fer you, Nelson. I begun yesterday an' kept it up till I -seed you go by the Kimball jest now like you was shot out of a gun, an' -I bent to the trail, an' here I am. Yes, I want to see you. I've got a -favor to ax, old friend." - -"Well, you can have anything I've got." Floyd smiled rather sheepishly -as he laid his hand on Pole's shoulder. "The only trouble right now is -that I'm pressed for time. A lot depends on what may take place in the -next two hours, and I'm afraid to think of anything else. When do you go -back?" - -"Oh, I kin take a train any time. I'm in no big hurry, Nelson. All I -want is to get to talk to you a few minutes." - -"Then I'll tell you what to do," Floyd proposed. "Take this key to my -room at the Kimball House. I've got a bed to spare up there. And, more -than that, Pole, go in and take your supper in my place. It will be all -right. I registered on the American plan. Then I'll meet you in the room -about eight o'clock. You see, it's this way: I've brought a fellow with -me from Birmingham, and he's back there in the office now. He and I are -on a trade for all my iron lands in Alabama. A thing like this is a big, -exciting game with me; it drives out all other thoughts, and, the Lord -knows, right now I need some diversion. He and I are going to the house -of a friend of his in the country and take early supper there. I'll be -back by eight, sure, Pole." - -"That'll suit me all right," said Pole, as he took the key and looked at -the number on the brass tag. "I'll be there, Nelson. I wouldn't let -you stand for my expenses, but if your bill's paid anyway, that's -different." - -"Yes, it won't cost me a cent extra," said Floyd. "Here comes my man -now. I'd introduce you, but we are in a devil of a hurry." - -"Are you ready?" a middle-aged man in a linen suit and straw hat asked, -as he walked up hastily. "I'll make the driver strike a brisk gait." - -"Yes, I'm ready," Floyd said, and he turned to Baker. "Don't forget, -Pole." As he was walking away, he threw back: "I'll meet you at eight or -before, sure. I don't want to miss you." - - - - -XXXVII - - -THAT night, after supper, Pole was in Floyd's room at the hotel. The -weather being warm, he had raised the window, which opened on a busy -street, and sat smoking, with his coat off. From the outside came the -clanging of street-car bells and the shrill voices of newsboys crying -the afternoon papers. Suddenly he heard the iron door of the elevator -slide back, and a moment later Floyd stood on the threshold of the room. - -"Well, I succeeded, Pole!" he cried, sitting down on the window-sill -and fanning himself with his straw hat. "I sold out, lock, stock, and -barrel, and at an advance that I never would have dreamed of asking if -I hadn't been in a reckless mood. Really, I didn't know the property -was so valuable. My man kept hanging onto me, following me from place to -place, wanting to know what I'd take, till finally, simply to get rid of -him, I priced the property at three times what I had ever asked for it. -To mv astonishment, he said he would come over to Atlanta with me, and -if certain friends of his would help him carry it he would trade. Pole, -my boy, I've made more money to-day than I've made all the rest of my -life put together, and"--Floyd sighed as he tossed his hat on one of -the beds and locked his hands behind his neck--"I reckon I care less for -material prosperity than I ever did." - -"Well, I'm glad you made a good trade," Pole said. "You were born lucky, -my boy." - -"Oh, I don't know," answered Floyd; "but here I am talking about my -own affairs when you came to see me about yours. What can I do for you, -Pole? If it's money you want, you certainly came to headquarters, and -you can get all you want and no questions asked." - -"I didn't come to see you on my own business, Nelson," Pole answered. -"I'm here on account of old man Mayhew. Nelson, he's mighty nigh -plumb crazy over you bein' away. He can't run that thing up thar -single-handed; he's leaned too long on you fer that, an' then he's -gittin' old and sorter childish. I never knowed it before, Nelson, but -he looks on you sorter like a son. The old fellow's eyes got full an' -he choked up when he was beggin' me to come down here an' see you. He -gathered from yore last letter that you intended to go West and live, -an' he called me in an' begged me to come and persuade you not to do it. -Nelson, I'll hate it like rips, too, ef you leave us. Them old mountains -is yore rightful home, an' I'm here to tell you that God Almighty never -give any one man more friends than you've got amongst them plain, honest -folks. By gum! they jest stand around in bunches an' talk an' talk about -you an'--an' yore--late trouble. Thar ain't one in the lot but what 'ud -be glad to help you bear it." - -Floyd stood up suddenly, and, with his hands behind him, he began to -walk back and forth across the room. - -"It's the only spot on earth I'll ever care about," Pole heard him say -in a deep, husky voice, "and God knows I love the people; but I don't -want to go back, Pole. Fate rather rubbed it in on me up there. All my -early life I nursed the hope that I would eventually be able to prove -that my parents were good, respectable people, and then when I was -beginning to despair it went out that I belonged to a great and high -family, and the aristocracy of the section extended their hands and -congratulated me and patted me on the back. But that wasn't for long. My -guardian angel--my old stand-by, Pole--came to me with a malignant grin -and handed me the information that I was--was what you couldn't call the -humblest man you know up there and live a minute later." - -"I know--I know, Nelson," sighed Pole, his honest face tortured by -inward sympathy. "I see you've got a big, big argument in favor o' the -step you are thinking about, but I want to see if I can't put it to -you in another light. Listen to me, my boy. Different men suffer in -different ways. Maybe you don't think I've suffered any to speak of. -But, my boy, when I was tried by my peers up thar, in the open court of -God's soft starlight---when my neighbors, well-meanin', fair-thinkin' -folks, come to me in the night-time an' called me out to lay the lash -on my bare back fer wilful neglect o' them that was dear an' true to -me, all--all, I say--that was wuth a tinker's damn in me sunk down, down -into the bottomless pit o' hell. I thought about shirkin', about pullin' -up stakes an' goin' away off some'rs to begin new, but I seed that -wouldn't wipe it out o' folks' memories, nor out o' me, and so I decided -to stay right thar an' fight--fight it to a finish. It was awful to meet -them men in the light o' day with the'r masks off, an' know what each -one was a-think-in', but I went through it, and, thank God, I begin to -see light ahead. It looks like they understand my struggle an' think -none the less o' me. Lord, Lord, ef you could jest witness the kind -words an' gentle ways o' them men towards me an' mine now, you'd believe -what preachers say about the spirit o' God dwellin' in every man's -breast." - -Floyd had turned, and he now laid a sympathetic hand on Pole's shoulder. - -"I knew what you were going through," he said, "and I wanted to help -you, but didn't know how. Then this damned thing came on me like a bolt -from a clear sky." - -"Nelson, listen to me. I am here to-night to beg you to do like I -done--to come back to yore old home and meet that thing face to face. As -God is my judge, I believe sech great big troubles as yore'n are laid -on folks fer a good purpose. Other men have gone through exactly what -you've had to bear, an' lived to become great characters in the history -o' the world's progress. Nelson, that's the one an' only thing left fer -you to do. It's hell, but it will be fer yore own good in the end. Buck -up agin it, my boy, an' what seems hard now will look as easy after a -while as failin' off a log." - -Floyd turned and began to walk back and forth again. The room was filled -with silence. Through the open window came the sound of brass musical -instruments, the rattling of a tambourine, the ringing of cymbals. Then -a clear voice--that of a young woman--rose in a sacred song. It was a -band of Salvationists clustered near a street corner under a hanging -arc light. Floyd paused near to Pole and looked thoughtfully from the -window; then he sat down on the bed. For a moment he stared at the -floor, and then, folding his arms across his breast, he suddenly raised -his head. - -"Pole," he said, firmly, "I'm going to take your advice." - -There was silence. The two men sat facing each other. Suddenly the -mountaineer leaned over and said: "Give me your hand on it, Nelson. -You'll never regret this as long as you live." - -Floyd extended his hand and then got up and began to walk back and forth -across the room again. - -"I've got another trouble to bear, Pole," he said, gloomily. - -"You say you have, Nelson?" - -"Yes, and it is worse than all. Pole, I've lost the love of the only -woman I ever really cared for." - -"You mean Cynthia Porter?" said Pole, and he leaned forward, his eyes -burning. - -Floyd nodded, took one or two steps, and then paused near to Pole. "You -don't know it, perhaps, but I've been back up there lately." - -"Oh no!" - -"Yes, I went back to see her. I couldn't stay away from her. I had been -on a protracted spree. I was on the brink of suicide, in a disordered -condition of mind and body, when all at once it occurred to me that -perhaps she might not absolutely scorn me. Pole, the very hope that she -might be willing to share my misfortune suddenly sobered me. I was in an -awful condition, but I stopped drinking and went up there one night. I -secretly met her and proposed an elopement. The poor little girl was so -excited that she would not decide then, but she agreed to give me her -final decision a week later." - -"Great God! you don't mean it, Nelson!" the mountaineer cried in -surprise--"shorely you don't!" - -"Yes, I do. Then I went back to fill the appointment, but she had -confided it all to her mother, and the old lady came out and told me -that Cynthia not only refused me, but that she earnestly hoped I would -never bother her again." - -"My Lord!" Pole exclaimed; "and there was a time when I actually -thought--but that's _her_ matter, Nelson. A man hain't got no right -on earth dabblin' in a woman's heart-affairs. To me nothin' ain't more -sacred than a woman's choice of her life-partner." - -"Mrs. Porter hinted plainly that Cynthia was thinking of marrying -Hillhouse," said Floyd. - -"Ah, now I begin to see ahead!" the farmer said, reflectively. "Cynthia's -down at Cartersville now, on a visit to her cousins, and the long-legged -parson is there, too, filling in for another preacher. I don't pretend -to understand women, Nelson. Thar's been a lots o' talk about her and -Hillhouse since you went off. I axed Sally what she thought about it, -an' she seemed to think if Cynthia had quit thinkin' o' you it was due -to the reports in circulation that you had started in to drinkin'. Sally -thought that Cynthia was one woman that 'ud not resk her chance with a -drinkin' man. Cynthia's a good girl, Nelson, and maybe she thinks she -kin make herse'f useful in life by marrying a preacher. I dunno. And -then he is a bright sort of fellow; he is sharp enough to know that she -is the smartest and best unmarried woman in Georgia. Well, that will be -purty hard fer you to bear, but you must face it along with the other, -my boy." - -"Yes, I've got to grin and bear it," Floyd said, almost under his -breath. "I've got to face that and the knowledge that I might have won -her if I had gone about it in the right way. From my unfortunate father -I have inherited some gross passions, Pole, and I was not always strong -enough to rise above them. I made many big mistakes before I met her, -and even after that, I blush to say, my old tendency clung to me so -that--well, I never understood her, as she really deserved, till the day -you raked me over the coals at the bush-arbor meeting. Pole, that -night, when she and I were thrown by the storm in that barn together, I -remembered all you said. It seemed to give me new birth, and I saw her -for the first time as she was, in all her wonderful womanly strength and -beauty of character and soul, and from that moment I loved her. My God, -Pole, the realization of that big, new passion broke over me like a -great, dazzling light. It took me in its grasp and shook everything that -was vile and gross out of me. From that moment I could never look into -her face for very shame of having failed to comprehend her." - -"I seed you was in danger," Pole said, modestly. "It was a mighty hard -thing to have to talk as I did to a friend, but I felt that it was my -duty, and out it come. I'm not goin' to take no hand in this, though, -Nelson. I think you are in every way worthy o' her, but, as I say, only -a woman kin tell who she ought to yoke with fer life. If she refused -you, after due deliberation, an' decided on another man, why, I hain't -one single word to say. I'm after her happiness, as I'm after yore'n. -I'd like to see you linked together, but ef that ain't to be, then I -want to see you both happy apart." - -For a moment neither spoke. Then it seemed that Pole wanted to change -the subject. - -"In tryin' to run upon you this mornin', Nelson," he said, "I went out -to yore--out to Henry A. Floyd's. That woman, his housekeeper, met me at -the door an' let me inside the hall. She's a kind, talkative old soul, -and she's worried mighty nigh to death about the old man. She remembered -seein' me before, an' she set in to tellin' me all about his troubles. -It seems that he's had some lawsuit, an' his last scrap o' property is -to be tuck away from him. She told me thar was a debt of three thousand -dollars to pay in the morning or' everything would go. While she was -talkin' he come along, lookin' more dead than alive, an' I axed 'im ef -he could put me on to yore track. He glared at me like a crazy man; his -jaws was all sunk in, an' with his gray hair an' beard untrimmed, an' -his body all of a quiver, he simply looked terrible. - -"'No,' said he, 'I don't know whar you kin find 'im. I've heard that he -was in trouble, an' I'm sorry, fer I know what trouble means,' an' with -that he stood thar twistin' his hands an' cryin' like a pitiful little -child about the three thousand dollars his creditors wanted, an' that -thar wasn't a ghost of a chance to raise it. He said he'd made every -effort, an' now was starin' starvation in the face. He turned an' went -back to his room, puttin' his old, bony hand on the wall to keep from -failin' as he moved along. I'm a pore man, Nelson, but, by all that's -holy, ef I'd 'a' had the money the old chap wanted this mornin' I'd 'a' -hauled it out an' 'a' kissed it farewell. I'm that way, Nelson. A fool -an' his money is soon parted. I'd 'a' been seven idiots in a row ef I'd -'a' had that much cash, fer I'd certainly 'a' yanked that squirmin' old. -chap off'n his bed o' coals." - -Floyd bent towards the speaker. Their eyes met understandingly. - -"But I've got money, Pole--money to spare--and that old wreck is my -father's only brother. I've made a fortune in a single deal to-day. -Look here, Pole, I'm going out there to-night--_to-night_, do you -understand?--to-night, before he goes to bed, and give him a check that -will more than cover his shortage." - -"Are you goin' to do that, Nelson?" - -"Yes, I am. Do you want to come along to witness it?" - -"No, I'll wait fer you here, but God bless you, my boy. You'll never, -never be sorry fer it, if you live to be a hundred years old." - -Floyd sat down at a table, and, with a checkbook in hand, was adjusting -his fountain-pen. Pole went to the window and looked out. Down in the -glare below a woman in a blue hood and dress stood praying aloud, in -a clear, appealing voice, while all about her were grouped the other -Salvationists and a few earnest-eyed spectators. - -"That's right, Miss Blue-frock," Pole said to himself; "go ahead an' -rake in yore converts from the highways an' byways, but I've got one -in this room you needn't bother about. By gum! ef it was jest a little -darker in here, I'll bet I could see a ring o' fire round his head." - - - - -XXXVIII - - -IN the street below, Nelson took a car for his uncle's residence, and -fifteen minutes later he was standing on the veranda ringing the bell. -Through a window on his left he looked into a lighted room. He saw -old Floyd's bent figure moving about within, and then the housekeeper -admitted him into the dimly lighted hall. She regarded him with surprise -as she recalled his face. - -"You want to see Mr. Floyd?" she said. "I'll see if he will let you come -in. He's in a frightful condition, sir, over his troubles. Really, sir, -he's so desperate I'm afraid he may do himself some harm." - -Leaving Nelson standing in the hall, she went into the lighted room, and -the young man heard her talking persuasively to her master. Presently -she came back and motioned the visitor to enter. He did so, finding the -old man standing over a table covered with letters, deeds, and other -legal documents. He did not offer his hand, and the young man stood in -some embarrassment before him. - -"Well," old Floyd said, "what do you want? Are you here to gloat over -me?" - -"No, I am not," returned the visitor. "It is simply because I do not -feel that way that I came. A friend of mine was here to-day, and he said -you were in trouble." - -"Trouble?--huh!" snarled old Floyd. "I guess you are glad to know that." - -"I certainly am not," Nelson said, warmly. "I heard of it only a few -minutes ago at the Kimball House, where I am staying, and I took the -first car to reach you. I wish I had heard of the matter earlier--that -is, if you will allow me to help you out." - -"You--you help me?" Old Floyd extended his thin hand and drew a chair to -him and sank into it. "They've all talked that way--every money-lender -and banker that I have applied to. They all say they want to help, but -when they look at these"--Floyd waved his hand despondently over the -documents--"when they look at these, and see the size of the mortgage, -they make excuses and back out. I don't want to waste time with you. I -know what sort of man you are. You have made what you've got by being -as close as the bark on a tree, and I'm going to tell you at the outset -that I haven't any security--not a dollar's worth." - -"I didn't want security," Nelson said, looking sympathetically down into -the withered face. - -"You don't want--" The old man, his hands on his knees, made an -effort to rise, but failed. "My Lord, you say you don't want security; -then--then what the devil _do_ you want?" - -"I want to _give_ you the money, if you'll do me the honor to accept -it," Nelson declared. "My friend told me the amount was exactly three -thousand. I have drawn this check for four." The young man was extending -the pink slip of paper towards him. "And if that is not enough to put -you squarely on your feet, I am ready to increase it." - -"You mean--" The old man took the check and, with blearing eyes and -shaking hands, examined it in the lamplight. "You mean that you will -_give_--actually, _give_ me four thousand dollars, when I haven't a -scrap of security to put up?" - -"Yes, that's exactly what I mean." - -Old Floyd took his eyes from the check and shrinkingly raised them -to the young man's face. Then he dropped the paper on the table and -groaned. There was silence for a moment. The housekeeper, passing by -the open door, looked in wonderingly, and moved on. The old man saw her, -and, rising suspiciously, he shambled to the door and closed it. Then he -turned aimlessly and came slowly back, his hand pressed to his brow. - -"I can't make it out," Nelson heard him muttering. "I'm afraid of it. -It may be a trick, and yet what trick could anybody play on a man in -the hole I'm in? _Four thousand?_" He was looking first at the check and -then at his caller. "Four thousand would save me from actual ruin--it -would make me comfortable for life. I can't believe you mean to give -it to me--really _give_ it. The world isn't built that way. It would be -very unbecoming in me to doubt you, to impugn your motives, sir, but I'm -all upset. The doctors say my mind is affected. One lawyer, a sharper, -suggested that I could get out of this debt by claiming that I was not -mentally responsible when I signed the papers, but that wouldn't work. -I knew mighty well what I was doing. Now, on top of it all, here -you come--_you_ of all living men--and, in so many plain English -words--offer to give me a thousand more than the debt. Sir, I don't want -to be impolite, but I simply can't believe that you mean it." - -Greatly moved, the young man put his hands on the old man's shoulders -and gently pressed him down into his chair; then he got another and sat -close to him. - -"Try to look at this thing calmly," he said. "In the first place, you -don't understand me. You are not a relative of mine by law, but by blood -you are the only one I ever saw. You are the brother of the man who gave -me life--such as it is--and, for aught I know, you may even resemble -him. I have been in great trouble over the revelations you made -recently, but all that has burned itself to a cinder within me, and I -have determined to go back up there in the mountains and face it. But -that isn't all. Certain investments I have made in the past are turning -out money in the most prodigal manner. The amount I am offering you is -a mere trifle to what I have made in one single transfer of property -to-day. I sincerely want you to take it. It would give me great joy to -help you, and, if you refuse, it will pain me more than I can say. We -are not relatives before the world, but we are by ties of nature, and I -pity you to-night as I never pitied any human being in my life." - -"My God! my God!" The old man struggled again to his feet, his eyes -avoiding Nelson's earnest stare. "Wait here. Keep your seat, sir. Let -me think. I can't take your money without making a return for it. Let -me think." He tottered to the door, opened it, and passed out into -the hall. There Nelson heard him striding back and forth for several -minutes. Presently he came back. He was walking more erectly. There was -in his eyes a flitting gleam of hope. Approaching, he laid a quivering -hand on Nelson's shoulder. "I have thought of a plan," he said, almost -eagerly. "Your partner in business, Mr.--Mr. Mayhew, came down here -looking for you, and he told me how my unpleasant disclosure had -unstrung you, upset your prospects, and caused you to leave home. Now, -see here. It has just occurred to me that I am actually the only living -individual who knows the--the true facts about your birth and your -father's life. Now here is what I can and will do--you see, what _I_ -say, what _I_ testify to during my lifetime will stand always. I am -willing to take that--that money, if you will let me give you sworn -papers, showing that it was all a mistake, and that your parents were -actually man and wife. This could harm no one, and it would be only -justice to you." - -Nelson stood up suddenly. It was as if a great light had suddenly burst -over him. His blood bounded through his veins. - -"You will do that?" he cried--"to?" - -"Yes, and not a living soul could ever contradict it," the old man said, -eagerly. "I can put into your hands indisputable proof. More than that, -I'll write up to Mayhew and Duncan in your neighborhood and show the -matter in a thoroughly new light." - -The eyes of the two men met. For a moment there was silence in the room -so profound that the flame of the lamp made an audible sound like the -drone of an imprisoned insect. The old man was the first to speak. - -"What do you say?" he asked, almost gleefully, and he rubbed his palms -together till the dry skin emitted a low, rasping sound. - -Suddenly Nelson sank back into his chair and covered his face with his -hands. - -"What do you say?" repeated the old man; "surely you won't re--" - -He was interrupted by Nelson, who suddenly looked up, and with a frank -stare into the old man's face he said, calmly: - -"No, I can't be a party to that, Mr. Floyd. I fully understand all it -would mean to me before the world, but I am not willing to bear the -stamp of a lie, no matter how justifiable it may seem, all through life. -A man can enjoy being only what he really is, either high or low. No, -sir, I appreciate your willingness to help me, but you can't do it that -way." - -"Why, you--you can't mean to refuse!" old Floyd gasped. - -"I _have_ to," said the young man. "As for the real dishonesty of the -thing, I might as well be any other sort of impostor. No, I want to -be only what I am in this world. Besides, I can't be a party to your -swearing a lie. No, I'll have to decline." - -"Then--then," the old man groaned--"then I can't take your money." - -"But you'll have to," Nelson smiled, sadly. "I can _make_ you do it. -I'll give you no other recourse. I shall simply instruct the bank in the -morning to place it to your credit and charge it to my account. If you -don't draw it out, neither you nor I will get the benefit of it, for I -shall never touch it again." - -Taking his hat, Nelson moved towards the door, followed by the -tottering, faintly protesting old man. And as he was leaving the last -words the visitor heard were: "I can't take it, sir. I can't take money -from you, as bad as I need it. I can't--I can't!" - -When Nelson Floyd reached the hotel it was eleven o'clock. He found Pole -seated in the dark at an open window, his coat and shoes off. He was -smoking. - -"Well, here you are," was the mountaineer's greeting. "I was sorter -sleepy, but I wanted to hear what you done, so I run down an' got me a -nickel cigar. Then I've put in my time watchin' the folks in the street. -I'll be dadblasted ef thar ain't as many night-hawks on the wing now as -thar was jest after supper." - -Nelson threw off his coat and hat and sat down and recounted briefly all -that had taken place at Floyd's, Pole smoking thoughtfully the while. -When Nelson ceased speaking Pole rose and began to undress. - -"So the blamed old codger talked like he wasn't goin' to draw the money, -eh?" he said. "Well, that sorter upsets me; I can't exactly make it out, -Nelson. I'll have to think that over. It ain't what I expected him to -do. I thought he'd pounce on it like a duck on a June-bug. No, that's -quar, I tell you--powerful quar!" - -They had been in bed perhaps two hours and Floyd was asleep, when -something waked him and he lay still, listening. Then, looking through -the darkness, he saw Pole sitting on the edge of his bed, his feet on -the floor. - -"It ain't no use," Floyd heard him muttering; "I can't sleep--thar ain't -no good in tryin'." - -"What's the reason you can't sleep?" Floyd asked, suddenly. - -"Oh!" Pole exclaimed, "I didn't know you was awake. I heard you -breathin' deep an' natural jest a minute ago." - -"But why can't you sleep?" Floyd repeated. - -"I don't know, Nelson," Pole answered, sheepishly. "Don't you bother. -Turn over an' git yore rest. I reckon I'm studyin' too much. Thar's -nothin' on earth that will keep a feller awake like studyin'. I hain't -closed my eyes. I've been lyin' here wonderin' an' wonderin' why that -old cuss didn't want to take that money." - -"Why, he simply didn't feel like accepting it from a--a stranger and -a man he had treated coldly, and perhaps too severely, on a former -meeting. You see, he felt unworthy--" - -"Unworthy hell! That ain't it--you kin bet yore socks that ain't it! -That _sort_ o' man, in the hole he's in, ain't a-goin' to split hairs -like that, when he's on the brink o' ruin an' ready to commit suicide. -No, siree, you'll have to delve deeper into human nature than that. -Looky' here, Nelson. I'm on to a certain thing to-night fer the fust -time. Why didn't you tell me before this that Henry A. Floyd got his -start in life by a plantation left him by his daddy?" - -"Why, I thought you knew it!" Floyd said, sleepily. "But what's that got -to do with his not wanting to take the money?" - -"I don't know," Pole said. "I'll have to study on it. You turn over an' -git that nap out. Yo're a-yawnin' fit to bust that night-shirt." - - - - -XXXIX - - -IT was about eight o'clock the next morning when Floyd waked. The first -thing he saw was Pole seated in the window chewing tobacco. He was -fully dressed, had shaved, and wore a new white shirt and collar that -glistened like porcelain in the morning sun; he had on also a new black -cravat which he had tied very clumsily. - -"Good gracious, have you been waiting for me?" Floyd cried, as he sprang -out of bed and looked at his watch. - -"Not much I hain't," the mountaineer smiled. "I was up at my usual time, -at sunrise. I struck a restaurant and got me some fried eggs an' coffee, -an' then walked half over this dern town." - -"Well, I'm sorry you've had your breakfast," Floyd said, "for I wanted -you to go down with me." - -"No, thankee"--Pole shrugged his shoulders and smiled--"I tried that -last night in yore place, an' thar was so many niggers in burial suits -standin' round that big room that it looked like resurrection day in a -coon graveyard. The damned idiots stared at me as ef they thought I'd -blowed in off'n a load o' hay. They passed me from one to t'other like -coals o' fire on a shovel till they landed me in a corner whar nobody -wouldn't see me." - -Floyd laughed. "You are all right, Pole; don't you ever let that fact -escape you." - -"Do you think so, Nelson? Well, anyway, a biggity nigger waiter tried -to take me down once when I was here, about a year ago. I'd heard a good -deal o' talk about that fine eatin'-room down the street whar only the -big Ikes git the'r grub, an', wantin' a snack, I drapped in an' hung -up my hat. The head coon tuck me to a table whar some other fellows was -eatin', an' another one made me a present of a handkerchief an' shoved -a card under my nose. The card had lots o' Dutch on it, an' I was kinder -flustered, but as the nigger looked like he understood our language, I -told 'im to never mind the printin' but to fetch me two fried eggs an' -a cup o' coffee an' free bread, ef he had it, an' ef not to charge it -in the bill. Well, sir, after I'd give the order, the coon still stood -thar, tryin' his level best to turn up his flat nose; so I axed 'im -what he was waitin' fer, an' he sneered an' axed me ef that was all I -expected to eat. I told 'im it was, an', with a grin at the coon at the -next table, he shuffled off. Well, you know, I was hot under the collar, -an' I seed that the other men at the table looked like they was with -me, though they didn't chip in. Purty soon my waiter come back with my -order, an', with a sniff, he set it down. It looked like he thought jest -to be a lackey in a fine house like that was next to wearin' wings an' -flyin' over golden streets. He axed me ag'in ef that was all I wanted, -an' when I said it was he give another sniff, an' drawed out a pad an' -writ down twenty-five cents on it in great big figures, an' tore off the -leaf an' drapped it in front o' my plate. 'Mighty small bill,' he said. -'Yes,' said I, 'that order 'ud 'a' cost fifty cents in a _fust-class_ -place, but I was busy an' didn't have time to go any furder.' Well, sir, -them men in front o' me jest hollered. They banged on the table with -the'r knives an' plates, an' yelled till everybody in the room stood up -to see what was the matter. One big, fat, jolly-faced man with a red, -bushy mustache in front of me re'ched his paw clean across the table an' -said: 'Put 'er thar, white man; damn it, put 'er thar!' I tuck a drink -with 'im when we went out. He tried to buy me a five-dollar hat to -remember 'im by, but I wouldn't take it." - -Floyd laughed heartily. He had finished dressing. "Did you finally get -it settled in your mind, Pole, why that old man didn't want to take my -check last night?" - -"Thar's a lots o' things I've got to git settled in my mind," was the -somewhat evasive reply. "I told you I was goin' to take the ten-thirty -train fer Darley, but I ain't a-goin' a step till I've seed a little -furder into this business. Looky' here, Nelson Floyd, fer a man that's -had as much dealin's with men in all sorts o' ways as you have, you are -a-actin' quar." - -"I don't understand you." Floyd had put his hand on the latch to open -the door, but, seeing his friend's serious face, he went back to the -window wondering what Pole was driving at. - -"You say," said Pole, "that Henry A. Floyd came into his plantation at -his daddy's death?" - -"That's my impression, Pole." - -The mountaineer went to the cuspidor near the washstand and spat -deliberately into it; then he came back wiping his lips on his long -hand. - -"An' when the old man died he jest had two sons--yore daddy an' this one -here?" Pole said, tentatively, his heavy brows drawn together. - -"Yes, that's right, Pole." - -"Well, Nelson"--the mountaineer was staring steadily at his friend--"I -make a rule never to judge a person too quick, but whar I see a motive -fer evil in a man that ain't plumb straight, I generally find some'n' -crooked." - -"I'm sure I don't understand you, Pole," Floyd said, his eyes wide in -curiosity. - -Pole stepped near to Floyd and laid his hand on his arm. - -"Do you mean to tell me, as keen and sharp as you are, that you tuck -that old skunk's word about a matter as important as that is, when -he come into property from yore granddaddy--property that 'ud be part -yore'n as his brother's son? Shucks! I'm jest a mountain scrub, but I -ain't as big a fool as that. - -"Oh, I know!" said Floyd, wearily. "I suppose you are right, but I don't -care to go to law about a little handful of property like that; besides, -you know it would be my interest _only_ in case I was a _lawful_ -heir--don't forget that damnable fact, Pole." - -"I'm not thinkin' about the value of property, nuther," said Baker; -"but, my boy, I am lookin' fer a _motive_--a motive fer rascality, an' -I think I've found one as big as a barn. I don't any more believe that -dirty tale old Floyd told you than I'd believe it about my old saint of -a mother." - -"But you don't know what he showed me, Pole," Floyd sighed. "I never had -the heart to go over it thoroughly, but it was conclusive enough to draw -a black curtain over my whole life." - -"I don't care, Nelson," Pole said, warmly. "I don't give a damn what he -said, or showed you. Thar's a big, rotten stench in Denmark, I'm here to -tell you; an' ef I don't squeeze the truth out o' that old turnip before -night I'll eat my hat. You go on an' git yore breakfast, an' let me map -out--" - -There was rap on the door. Floyd opened it. A negro porter in uniform -stood on the threshold. - -"A man down-stairs wants to see you, Mr. Floyd," he announced. - -"Did he give his name?" Nelson asked. - -"No, sir, he didn't." - -"He's an old, white-headed, dingy-faced fellow, ain't he?" Pole put in. - -"Yes, sir," answered the servant. "He looks like he's sick." - -"Well, you tell 'im to come up here," said Pole, his face rigid, and -his eyes gleaming triumphantly. When the negro had gone the two friends -stood facing each other. "Nelson, my boy," Pole said, tremulously, "I'm -goin' to stroll outside down the hall. I'd bet a full-blooded Kentucky -mare to a five-cent ginger-cake that you can run this whole rotten -business up a tree if you will play your cards exactly right. Looky' -here, Nelson, I've changed my mind about goin' out o' this room. Thar's -entirely too much at stake to leave you with the reins to hold. You -are too touchy on a certain delicate subject--you'll take a lot o' guff -rather than ask questions. I wish you'd go out and let me meet that man -fust." - -"I'll do anything you suggest, Pole," Floyd declared, his face twitching -sensitively. - -"Well, you skoot into that empty room next door. I seed it open when I -come up. Let me have the old codger to myself fer jest five minutes and -then I'll turn 'im over to you. Hurry up! I don't want 'im to see you -here." - -Floyd acted instantly, Pole heard the door of the adjoining room close -just as the elevator stopped at the floor they were on. - -"Good," he ejaculated. He threw himself back in a chair and had just -picked up a newspaper when old Floyd cautiously peered in at the -half-open door. - -"Come in, come in, Mr. Floyd," Pole said, cordially. "Early bird, ain't -you?" - -"They told me Mr. Floyd was here," the old man said, awkwardly, as -he stepped inside and glanced around the room. He was, in the open -daylight, even paler and more despondent-looking than he had appeared -the previous evening. In his hand he held Nelson's check folded and -clutched tightly. - -"He's jest gone out," Pole said, indicating a chair, "set down; he'll be -back here in a minute." - -"I--I thought he was up here alone," the old man stammered. - -"Oh, it don't make no difference," Pole smiled, easily, "me'n' Nelson's -jest like two brothers. You see, what one knows the other does. -The truth is, me'n' him work together, Mr. Floyd, an' I've been -investigatin' that case about his mammy an' daddy fer sometime. I run -the whole thing down yesterday, an' come in an' told 'im about it last -night after he'd got back from yore house. By gum! the boy broke down -an' cried like a child fer pure joy. It would 'a' done you good to 'a' -seed 'im. That was an' awfully nasty thing fer a proud young sperit to -stand up under, an' you bet gittin' it off was a relief." - -"You mean--" The old man sank heavily into a chair, but he could go no -further. He stared helplessly into Pole's inscrutable face, and then his -shifting eyes fell guiltily. - -"Why, you see," Pole smiled, plausibly; "all I wanted was a clew to -start from, an' after nosin' about whar Nelson's daddy had lived I at -last discovered that he was part heir to that property o' yore'n, then, -you see, the whole shootin'-match was as clear as a wart on the side of -my own nose. The next discovery was the marriage record, an' then I had -the whole thing in apple-pie order. You needn't set thar an' look scared -out o' yore skin, Mr. Floyd. Nelson 'ud have his right arm sawed off at -the shoulder-joint rather'n prosecute you. He told me last night that -he'd stand by you. He's got money to burn, an' he'll never let his -daddy's brother suffer. He told me jest this mornin'--'Pole,' said he, -'I don't believe Uncle Henry would 'a' kept this back so long ef he -hadn't been mighty nigh out o' his head with his own troubles." - -"God knows I wouldn't! God knows that!" sobbed the old man, impulsively. -"I meant to tell him the truth the day I met you and told you he was my -nephew, but I had a sick spell, and I got to worrying about the little -all I had for my old age. I thought you were prying into matters, too, -and knew that any question about the titles would make my creditors jump -on me, and--" - -"I see, I see!" said Pole. Indifference was in his voice, but his rugged -face was afire, his great, eager eyes were illumined by a blaze of -triumph. "I reckon the proof you showed him was forgery, Mr. Floyd, but -of a harmless kind that most any man in trouble naturally would--" - -"No, those letters were not forgeries," broke in the old man. "They were -really my brother's, but they related to his life with another woman. -When their child died, she deserted him for another man. My brother came -home broken-hearted, but he finally got over it, and married a nice girl -of good family. She was Nelson's mother. In my great trouble, and facing -ruin, it struck me that the letters would convince the boy and he -would keep quiet and not put in a claim until--until I could see my way -out--but now, you say he knows it all." - -"Yes, an' is so happy over it, Mr. Floyd, that instead o' givin' you -trouble, he'll throw his arms around you. God bless you, old hoss, -you've been denyin' the finest member yore family ever had. I reckon -you can turn over to him sufficient proof"--Pole drew himself up with -a start--"proof, I mean, that will, you see, sort o' splice in with all -I've run up on--proof that he is legally yore nephew." - -"Oh, plenty!" the old man said, almost eagerly; "and I'll get it up at -once. I've brought his check back," he unfolded it and held it in his -quivering hands. "I couldn't take money from him after treating him as I -have." - -Pole laughed outright. "You keep that check, old man," he said. "Nelson -Floyd will cram it down yore throat ef you won't take it any other way. -I tell you he's jest tickled to death. He thinks the world and all of -you because you are the only kin he ever laid eyes on. Now, you stay -right whar you are an' I'll send 'im to you. He's not fur off." - -Hurrying into the next room, Pole saw Floyd standing at a window looking -out into the street, a touch of his old despondency on him. He caught -Pole's triumphant smile and stood with lips parted in suspense. - -"It's jest as I told you, my boy," the mountaineer said, with a chuckle. -"He's owned up to the whole blasted thing. You've got as good a right to -vote in America as any man in it." - -"Good God, Pole, you don't mean--" - -"You go in thar an' he'll tell you all about it." Pole continued to -smile. - -"You say he has actually confessed of his own accord?" Floyd cried, -incredulously. - -"Well, I _did_ sorter have to lead 'im along a little," Pole laughed. -"To unlock his jaws, I told 'im me 'n' you already knowed the facts, so -you might as well take that stand, give 'im plenty o' rope an' let 'im -tell you all about it. But don't be hard on 'im, Nelson; the pore -old cuss wanted to do the fair thing but was pressed to the wall by -circumstances an' devilish men." - -"Thank God, Pole, thank God!" Floyd cried. "I can hardly believe it's -true." - -"Well, it is, all right enough," Baker assured him. "Now, I'm goin' to -catch the ten-thirty train. I want to git home before you do, an' git -this thing circulated--so nobody won't snub you an' feel bad about it -afterwards. I'll strike old Mrs. Snodgrass the fust thing. She is editor -of the _Hill-top Whirlwind_, an' will have an extra out ten minutes -after I land containin' full particulars. Fer once I'm goin' to put her -to a good use. She'll certainly make the rounds, an' as I don't want the -old thing to walk 'er props off, I'll lend 'er a hoss. But I'll tell you -what I'd like fer you to do, Nelson, an' I almost ax it as a favor." - -"What's that, Pole?" - -"Why, I want you to take that old chap under yore wing to-day an' git -'im out o' the clutch o' them shyster lawyers that's got 'im scared to -death." - -"You may rest assured that I'll do that," Floyd said, as he hurried -away. - -A moment later, as Pole was passing Nelson's room to reach the main -stairway, he glanced through the open door. Old Floyd sat with bowed -head, wiping his eyes on his handkerchief, and his nephew stood by him, -his hand resting on his shoulder. - - - - -XL - - -THREE days later, towards sundown, as Pole was about to enter Floyd & -Mayhew's store, the old man came from! behind one of the counters and, -with a smile of welcome, caught his arm and drew him to the edge of -the sidewalk. - -"I am not much of a hand to talk on any subject, Pole," he said. "But -there is something I've got to say to you, and it comes from the heart." - -"Well, ef it ain't a dun I'll be glad to hear it," Pole smiled. "When -I fust catched sight of you, it flashed over me that ef I didn't make -another payment on that debt you'd have to take my farm. But I'm gettin' -on my feet now, Mr. Mayhew, an'--" - -"I'll never bother you on that score," the merchant said, impulsively. -"I was just about to tell you that I am deeply grateful for what you did -for Nelson. Oh, he's told me all about it!" The old man held up his -hand and stopped Pole, who was on the point of decrying his part in the -matter in question. "Yes, he told me all you did, Baker, and I don't -actually believe any other man in the whole state could have worked it -so fine; and the boy's coming back here, Pole, has been my financial -salvation. I couldn't have kept on here, and it would have killed me to -see the old business fall to pieces." - -"You bet, I'm glad he's back, too," Pole returned. "An' he's happy over -it, ain't he, Mr. Mayhew?" - -"Ah, there's the trouble, Baker!" the old man sighed. "It looks like, -with all that has come his way of late, that he would be satisfied, but -he isn't--he simply isn't. Baker, I think I see what's lacking." - -"You think you do, Mr. Mayhew?" Pole leaned forward anxiously. - -"Yes, I believe it's due to Nathan Porter's daughter. God knows she's -the very girl for him. She's one woman that I admire with all my heart. -Nelson's got sense; he sees her good qualities, and wants her, but the -report is out that her and Hillhouse are courting down at Cartersville. -The preacher's had two weeks' extension on his vacation, and they tell -me he is cutting a wide swath. Folks down there are raving over his -bright sermons, and naturally that will flatter and influence a woman's -judgment. Besides, I really believe the average woman would rather marry -a mountain circuit-rider on three hundred a year than a man in easy -circumstances in any other calling." - -"I don't know as to that," Pole said, evasively. "Nobody kin pick an' -choose fer a woman. Ef I had a dozen gals I'd keep my mouth shet on the -husband line. That's old man Dickey's policy, over at Darley; he has ten -gals that he says has married men in every line o' business under -the sun. The last one come to 'im an' declared she wanted to marry a -tight-rope walker that was exhibitin' in the streets. That sorter feazed -the old chap, and he told the gal that her husband never could rise but -jest so high in the world an' was shore to come down sooner or later, -but she was the doctor an' to go ahead. Even _that_ marriage turned out -all right, fer one day the chap, all in stars an' spangles an' women's -stockin's, fell off'n of a rope forty feet from the ground. He struck -a load o' hay an' broke his fall, but on his way down he seed the sale -sign of a grocery across the street an' bought the business, an' now -Dickey's gettin' his supplies at wholesale prices." - -Turning from the old man, Pole passed the clerks and a few customers in -the store and went back to Floyd's desk, where his friend sat writing. - -"Got yore workin' gear on I see," he observed, with a smile. "You look -busy." - -Floyd pointed to a stack of account-books on the desk and smiled. "The -old man got these in an awful mess," he said. "But I am getting them -straight at last." - -"How's business?" Pole asked. - -"In the store, pretty good," Floyd answered; "but as for my own part, -I'm busy on the outside. I closed a nice deal yesterday, Pole. You -remember the offer I made Price for his plantation, furnished house, and -everything else on the place?" - -"You bet." - -"Well, he came to my terms. The property is mine at last, Pole." - -"Gee whiz! what a purty investment! It's a little fortune, my boy." - -"Yes, it's the sort of thing I've wanted for a long time," Floyd -returned. "Most men have their hobbies, and mine has always been to -possess a model farm that I could keep up to the highest notch of -perfection for my own pleasure and as an inspiration to my neighbors." - -"Bully, bully place, Nelson! You'll always be proud of it." - -"There's only one drawback," said Floyd; "you see, it will never suit me -to live there myself, and so I've got to get a sharp manager that I can -trust." - -"Ah yes, you bet you have!" Pole declared. - -"And such a man is hard to find, Pole." - -"Huh, I should think so!" the farmer answered. "Captain Duncan told me -he fell behind three thousand dollars in one year all on account of his -manager being careless while nobody was there to watch 'im. - -"He never paid his man enough," Nelson said. "I shall not follow that -plan. I'm going to pay my superintendent a good, stiff salary, so as to -make it interesting to him. Pole, there is only one man alive that I'd -trust that place to." - -Pole stared in a bewildered way. Floyd was leading him beyond his depth. - -"You say thar ain't, Nelson?" was all he could say. - -"And that man is you, Pole." - -"Me? Good Lord, you are plumb cracked--you are a-jokin', Nelson." - -"No, I never was more serious in my life. If I can't get you to take -that place in hand for me, I shall sell it to the first bidder. Pole, -I'm depending on you. The salary is three thousand a year, rent of the -house free, and all the land you want for your own use thrown in." - -"Three thousand! Geewhilikins," Pole laughed. - -"I'd be a purty lookin' chump drawin' that much of any man's money." - -"You'll draw that much of mine," Floyd said, looking him straight in the -eye, "and you will make me the best financial return for it of any man in -the world." - -"That's ridiculous, Nelson, you are plumb, stark crazy!" Pole was really -frowning in displeasure over he hardly knew what. - -"No, I'm not crazy, either," Floyd pursued, laying his hand on the -farmer's shoulder. "You've often said that I have a good head for -business, well--that's exactly what's causing me to make you this -proposition." - -"You are a liar, an' you know it!" Pole growled. "You know you are -a-doin' it beca'se you want to help me'n' my family, and, by the holy -smoke, I won't let you. Thar! I'm flat-footed on that! _I won't let -you_. Friendship is one thing an' takin' money from a friend is some'n' -else. It's low down, I'm here to tell you. It's low down, even ef a -body is on the ragged edge o' poverty, fer ever' man ort to work fer -hisse'f." - -"Look here, Pole, I get out of patience with you sometimes," Floyd said, -earnestly. "Now, answer this: don't you know that if you _did_ accept my -offer that you would not let my interests suffer wilfully?" - -"Of course I do, damn it!" Pole retorted, almost angrily. "Ef I was -workin' fer you in _any_ capacity I'd wear my fingers to the bone to do -what was right by you." - -"Well, there you are!" Floyd cried, triumphantly. "Wouldn't I be a -pretty fool not to try to employ you, when not one man in ten thousand -will be that conscientious? You've answered yourself, Pole. I'm going to -have you on that job if I have to double the pay." - -"Well, you won't git me, that's certain!" Pole retorted. "You are -offerin' it to me fer no other reason than that we are friends, an' I'll -be damned ef I take it." - -"Look here, Pole Baker," Floyd smiled, as he left his high stool, locked -his arm in that of his companion, and drew him to the open door in the -rear. "You have several times given me lectures that have done me more -solid good than all the sermons I ever heard, and it's my time now." - -"All right, shoot away!" Pole laughed. "The truth is, I feel derned mean -about some o' the things I've said to you when I look back on 'em." - -"Well, you've shown me many of my biggest faults, Pole, and I am going -to dangle one of yours before your eyes. I've seen you, my friend, take -money that your reason told you was needed by your wife and children, -whom you love devotedly, and, in a sort of false pride, I've seen you -spend it on men of the lowest order. You did it under the mistaken -notion that it was your time to treat. In other words, you seemed -possessed with the idea that you owed that crowd more than you did that -tender, trusting little woman and her children." - -"Damn it, you needn't remind me of that, Nelson Floyd! I know that as -well as any man alive!" Pole's face was full, and his voice husky with -suppressed emotion. - -"I know you know it, Pole, and here is something else you'll have to -admit, and that is, that you are this minute refusing something that -would fairly fill your wife with happiness, and you are doing it under -the damnably false notion that such deals should not be made between -friends. Why, man, friends are the only persons who ought to have -intimate business relations. It is only friends who can work for mutual -benefit." - -"Oh, I can't argue with you," Pole said, stubbornly, and he turned -suddenly and walked down through the store to the front. Floyd was -watching him, and saw him pause on the edge of the sidewalk, his head -down, as if in deep meditation. He was a pathetic-looking figure as he -stood with the red sunset sky behind him, his face flushed, his hair -thrown back from his massive brow. - -Taking his hat, Floyd went out and took him by the arm, and together -they strolled down the street in the direction of Pole's farm. Presently -Floyd said: "Surely you are not going to go back on me, Pole. I want -you, and I want you bad." - -"Thar's one thing you reminded me of in thar at the desk," Pole said, in -a low, shaky voice, "and it is this: Nelson, the little woman I married -hain't never had one single hour o' puore joy since the day I tuck -'er from her daddy's house. Lord, Lord, Nelson, ef I could--ef I _jest -could_ go home to 'er now an' tell 'er I'd got a lift in the world like -that the joy of it 'ud mighty nigh kill 'er." - -"Well, Pole"--Floyd suddenly drew him around till they stood face to -face--"_you do it_. Do you hear me? _You do it_. If you don't, you will -be taking an unfair advantage of a helpless woman. It's her right, Pole. -You haven't a word to say in the matter. The house will be vacant -to-morrow. Move her in, Pole; move the little woman in and make her -happy." - -The eyes of the two men met. Pole took a deep, lingering breath, then he -held out his hand. - -"I'll go you, Nelson," he said; "and ef I don't make that investment -pay, I'll hang myself to the limb of a tree. Gee whiz! won't Sally be -tickled!" - -They parted; Floyd turned back towards the village, and Pole went on -homeward with a quick, animated step. Floyd paused at the roadside and -looked after him through the gathering dusk. - -"He's happy, and so will his wife be," he said to himself. "But as for -me, that's another matter. She's going to marry Hillhouse. Great God, -how strange that seems! Cynthia and that man living together as man and -wife!" - - - - -XLI - - -IT was almost dark when Pole reached his humble domicile. The mountain -air was cool, and through the front window of the living-room he saw the -flare of a big, cheerful fire. He went into the house, but his wife -was not in sight. Looking into the bedroom, he saw the children sound -asleep, their yellow heads all in a row. - -"God bless 'em!" he said, fervently. "I reckon the'r mammy's down at the -barn." Going out at the back-door, he went to the cow-lot, and then he -heard Sally's voice rising above the squealing of pigs and the cackling -of hens. "So, so, Lil! can't you behave?" he heard her saying. "I git -out o' all patience. I can't keep the brat out. I might as well give up, -an' yet we've _got_ to have milk." - -"What's the matter, Sally?" Pole called out, as he looked over the -rail-fence. - -"Why, I can't keep this fool calf away," she said, turning to him, her -tin pail in her hand, her face red with vexation. "The little imp is -stealin' all the milk. He's had enough already to bust 'im wide open." - -Pole laughed merrily; there was much stored in his mind to make him -joyous. "Let me git at the dern little skunk," he said; and vaulting -over the fence with the agility of an acrobat, he took the sleek, -fawnlike creature in his strong arms and stood holding it against his -breast as if it were an infant. "That's the way to treat 'im?" he cried. -And carrying the animal to the fence, he dropped it on the outside. -"Thar, you scamp!" he laughed; "you mosey around out here in the -tater-patch till you l'arn some table manners." - -Sally laughed and looked at her husband proudly. "I'm glad you come when -you did," she said, "fer you wouldn't 'a' had any milk to go on yore -mush; me'n' the childem have had our supper an' they are tucked away in -bed." - -"Let me finish milkin'," Pole said. "An' you go in an' git my mush -ready." He took the pail and sat down on an inverted soap-box. "I'll -make up fer that calf's stealin' or I'll have old Lil's bag as flabby as -an empty meal-sack." - -In a few minutes he followed Sally into the kitchen where she had his -simple supper ready for him. When he had eaten it, he led her into the -living-room and they sat down before the fire. It was only for a moment, -though, for she heard little Billy talking in his sleep and sprang up -and went to him. She came back to her chair in a moment. - -"The very fust spare money I git," she said, "I'm goin' to have panes o' -glass put in that window in thar. I keep old rags stuffed in the holes, -but the rain beats 'em down, and hard winds blow 'em out. It don't take -as much fire-wood to keep a tight house warm as it does an open one like -this." - -"Sally, we ought to live in a great big fine house," he said, his eyes -on the coals under the red logs. - -"I say!" she sneered. "I've been afeard some'n' mought happen to drive -us out o' this 'un. Pole, to tell the truth, I've been worryin'." - -"You say you have, Sally?" - -"Yes, I worry all day, an' sometimes I wake up in the night an' lie -unable to sleep fer thinkin'. I'm bothered about the debt you owe Floyd -& Mayhew. It's drawin' interest an' climbin' higher an' higher. I know -well enough that Nelson wouldn't push us, but, Pole, ef he was to happen -to die, his business would have to be settled up, an' they say Mr. -Mayhew hain't one speck o' mercy on pore folks. When it was reported -that some'n' had happened to Nelson a while back, I was mighty nigh out -o' my head with worry, but I didn't tell you. Pole, we've got to git -free o' that debt by some hook or crook." - -"I think we kin manage it," Pole said, his eyes kindling with a subtle -glow. - -"That's the way you always talk," Mrs. Baker sighed; "but that isn't -payin' us out." - -"It comes easy to some folks to make money," Pole said, with seeming -irrelevance; "an' hard to others. Sally, did you ever--have you ever -been on Colonel Price's plantation?" - -"Many and many a time, Pole," Mrs. Baker answered, with a reminiscent -glow in her face. "When I was a girl, he used to let our crowd have -picnics at his big spring, just below the house, and one rainy day he -invited some of us all through it. It was the only time I was ever in as -fine a house as that an' it tuck my breath away. Me'n' Lillie Turnbull -slipped into the big parlor by ourselves and set down an' made out like -we lived thar an' was entertainin' company. She'd rock back an' forth in -one o' the big chairs an' pretend she was a fine lady. She was a great -mimic, an' she'd call out like thar was servants all around, an' order -'em to fetch 'er cool water an' fan 'er an' the like. Poor Lillie! -the last I heard of her she was beggin' bread fer her childern over at -Gainesville whar Ned was killed in an' explosion at the cotton-mill whar -he'd finally got work. - -"I jest started to tell you," Pole said, "that Nelson Floyd bought that -plantation to-day--bought it lock, stock, an' barrel--house, furniture, -hosses, implements--everythin'!" - -"You don't say!" Mrs. Baker leaned forward, her eyes wide in surprise. - -"Yes, he tuck it in out o' the wet with part o' the money he made on -that Atlanta deal. An' do you know, Sally, I was right thar in the back -end o' his store an' heard 'im contract with a man to manage it fer 'im. -The feller is to git three thousand dollars a year in cash--two hundred -an' fifty dollars a month, mind you, an' also the use of the big -furnished house, an' as much land fer himself as he needed, the use of -the buggies an' carriage an' spring-wagon an' barn--in fact, the whole -blamed lay-out. He axed me about hirin' the feller an' I told 'im -the dem skunk wasn't wuth his salt, but Nelson would have his way. He -engaged 'im on the spot." - -"Who was the man, Pole?" there was just a shade of heart-sick envy in -the tired countenance of the woman. - -"Oh, it was a feller that come up from Atlanta about three days ago," -Pole answered, with his usual readiness. "It seems that him an' Nelson -was sorter friends, an' had had dealin's in one way an' another before." - -"Has this--this new man any wife?" Mrs. Baker inquired, as a further -evidence of secret reflections. - -"Yes--a fine woman, and nice childem, Sally. He seemed to be the only -scrub in the bunch." - -Mrs. Baker sighed. "I guess he's got some'n' in 'im," she said, her eyes -cast down, "or Nelson Floyd, with his eye for business, wouldn't 'a' -give 'im a mansion like that to live in an' all them wages. He must be -an educated man, Pole." - -"No he ain't," Pole smiled; "he barely kin read an' write an' figure -a little; that's all. Sally, the feller's a-settin' right here in this -room now. I'm the manager o' that big place, Sally." - -She laughed as if to humor him, and then she raised her eyes to his. -"Pole," she said, in a cold, hard voice, "don't joke about a thing like -that. Somehow I don't believe that men who joke about doin' well, as es -ef the like was clean out o' the'r reach, ever do make money; it's them -that say what one kin do another kin that make the'r way." - -"But I wasn't jokin', little woman." Pole caught her hand and pressed -it. "As God is my judge, I'm the man, an' you' an' me an' the childern -are a-goin' to move into that fine house right off." - -For a moment she stared into his face incredulously, and then gradually -the truth dawned upon her. - -"Oh, Pole," she cried. "I can't stand it--it will _kill_ me!" and with -a great sob the little woman burst into tears. He tried to stop her, his -rough hand on her frail, thin back, but her emotion swept through her -like a storm. Suddenly she raised a wet, glowing face to his, and, -with her sun-browned hand pressed tightly on her breast, she cried: "It -hurts; it hurts right here--oh, Pole, I'm afraid it will kill me!" - -In a few moments she was calmer, and as she sat in the red fire-light -all aglow with her new happiness, she was a revelation to him. Not for -years had he seen her look that way. She seemed young again. The marks -of sorrow, poverty, and carking fear had dropped from her. Her eyes had -the glisten of bedewed youth, her voice the vibrant ring of unquenchable -joy. Suddenly she stood up. - -"What you goin' to do?" he asked. - -"To wake the childern an' tell 'em," she said. - -"I don't believe I would, Sally," he protested. - -"But I am--I _am!_" she insisted. "Do you reckon I'm goin' to let them -pore little things lie thar an' not know it--not know it till mornin'?" - -He let her have her way, and walked out on the little porch and slowly -down to the barn. Suddenly he stretched out his hands and held them up -towards the stars, and took a deep, reverent breath. - -"I wish I'd l'arnt to pray when I was a boy," he said, lowering his -arms. "Somehow I feel like I've at last come through. I've come from -the shadow of the Valley of Death out into God's eternal light. Then I'd -like to put in a word at the Throne fer Nelson. Ef I knowed how to say -it, I'd beg the Almighty to turn Hillhouse down. Hillhouse kin git 'im -another one, but Nelson never kin--never in this world! He hain't got -that look in the eyes. He's got a case o' woman as bad as I have, an' -that's sayin' a lots." - -Pole turned and slowly retraced his steps. Going in and sitting down by -the fire again, he heard his wife's voice rising and falling in a sweet -monotone. After a while she ceased speaking and came back to the fire. - -"So you had to wake 'em," he said, tenderly, very tenderly, as if his -soul had melted into words. - -"I tried, Pole, but I couldn't," she made answer. "I shuck 'em an' shuck -'em. I even tuck little Billy up an' rolled 'im over an' over, but he -was too dead tired to wake. So I give up." - -"But I heard you talkin'," Pole said, wonderingly. - -"Yes, I had to talk to somebody, Pole, an'--well, I was a-tellin' 'em. -They was asleep, but I was a-tellin' 'em." - -She sat down by him. "I ain't a-goin' to close my eyes to-night," she -went on, softly; "but what does it matter? I reckon thar won't be no -sleepin' in heaven, an' that's whar I am right now, Pole." - -She put the side of her flushed face down on his knee and looked into -the fire. - - - - -XLII - - -THE following evening about eight o'clock Floyd walked over to Baker's -house. He found his friend seated alone before a big fire of red logs. -"Hello! Come in, Nelson," Pole called out, cordially, as he saw the -young man through the open door-way. "Come in an' set down." - -The young merchant entered and took a vacant chair. - -"How's your wife, Pole?" he asked. - -"Huh, crazy, crazy--crazy as a bed-bug!" Baker laughed. "You'd think so -ef you could see 'er. She spent all the evenin' at yore plantation, -an' come home beamin' all over with what she's seed an' her plans." The -farmer jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the kitchen. "She's -in thar packin' up scraps now. She knows we can't leave till day after -to-morrow, but she says she wants to be doin' some'n' towards it, even -ef she has to pack an' unpack an' pack again. My boy, she's the happiest -creature God ever--I mean that _you_ ever made, dern you. She has yore -name on 'er tongue every minute in the day. You know she's always said -she had as many childem as she wanted"--Pole laughed impulsively--"but -she says now she'd go through it all ag'in ef she knowed it 'ud be a boy -so she could call it after you." - -"Well, I certainly would take it as a great honor," Floyd said. "Your -children are going to make great men, Pole. They show it in their heads -and faces." - -"Well, I hope so, Nelson." Pole suddenly bent his head to listen. -"That's Sally talkin' now," he said, with a knowing smile. "She -sometimes talks about all this to 'erse'f, she's so full of it, but she -ain't talkin' to 'erse'f now. You kin bet yore bottom dollar she ain't, -Nelson. I say she ain't an' I mean it, my boy." - -"Some one's in there, then?" said Floyd. - -Pole looked steadily into the fire, not a muscle of his face changed. -"Somebody come back from Cartersville this mornin'," he said, -significantly. - -Floyd's heart gave a big jump. "So I heard," he said, under his breath. - -"Well, she's in thar now. She'd heard we was goin' to move an' come over -jest after supper. She was plumb happy to see Sally so tickled. I didn't -mean to eave'drop, but I went in the entry jest now to hang up my -bridle an' couldn't help it. It was so purty, I could 'a' listened all -day--Sally puttin' on, an' tellin' 'er she'd send the carriage over fer -'er to spend the day, an' that Cynthia must be shore an' send in 'er -cyard at the door so thar 'ud be no mistake, an' so on." - -Floyd made no response. He was studying Pole's face, digging into it -with his eyes for something he felt lay just beneath the unruffled -surface. - -"Then I heard some'n' else," Pole said; "an' I'm goin' to feel mean -about totin' it to you, beca'se women has a right to the'r secrets, an' -who they pick an' choose fer the'r life-mates ort to be a sacred matter, -but this is a thing I think you have a right to be onto." - -"What is that, Pole?" Floyd seemed to be holding his breath. He was -almost pale in his great suspense. - -"Why I heard Cynthia deny up an' down flatfooted that she was engaged to -Hillhouse. Lord, you ort to 'a' heard her snort when Sally told 'er it -had been the general belief about here ever since her an' him went off -to Cartersville. She was good mad. I know that fer I heard Sally tryin' -to pacify 'er. I heard Cynthia say all of a sudden: 'My mother put that -report into circulation. I know it now, and she had no right to do it.'" - -Floyd breathed more freely, a gleam of hope was in his eyes, his face -was flushed. He said nothing. - -Pole suddenly drew his feet back from the fire. "Don't you want a drink -o' fresh water, Nelson?" he asked. - -"No, thank you," Floyd said. - -"Well, I do. Keep yore seat. Since I left off whiskey I'm a great -water-drinker." - -Pole had been gone only a minute when Floyd heard light steps in the -entry leading to the kitchen. He sprang up, for Cynthia stood in the -door-way. - -"Why--why," she stammered, "Mr. Baker told me some one wanted to see me. -I--I had no idea that you--" - -"I want to see you bad enough, God knows, Cynthia," Floyd found himself -saying, "but I did not tell him so. That, you know, would not be -respecting the message you sent me." - -"The message?" she said. "I'm sure I don't understand you." - -"I mean the message you sent me by your mother," Floyd explained. - -"But I didn't send you any message," Cynthia said, still mystified, as -she stared frankly into his eyes. - -"I mean the--the night I came for you," Floyd pursued, "the night I was -so presumptuous as to think you'd run away with me." - -"Oh, did she--did my mother tell you--" Cynthia was beginning to -understand. "Did she say that I--" - -"She told me you said you wanted me never to bother you again." - -The girl lowered her head, the fire lighted up her face as she stood, -her eyes on the rough floor. She was silent a moment as if in deep -thought, then she looked into his eyes again. "I begin to see it all -now," she said. "I wondered why you--how you could have treated me that -way after--after all you'd said." - -"Cynthia, what do you mean? Do, _do_ tell me!" He leaned closer to -her--she could feel his quick, excited breath. "Surely you could not -believe I'd have left if you hadn't wished it. Oh, little girl, I have -been the most miserable man alive over losing you. I know I am unworthy -of you--I always shall be that--but losing you has nearly killed me. -Your mother told me that awful night that you not only wanted me to let -you alone, but that you were going to marry Hillhouse." - -Cynthia gave him a full, frank glance. "Nelson," she said, "my mother -made up most of what she told you that night. I did promise not to run -away with you--she made me do that. You have no idea what she resorted -to. She determined to thwart us. She made me believe her mind was wrong -and that she would kill herself if I left." - -"But you went to her yourself, dear," Floyd said, still in the dark, -"and told her of our plans." - -"No, I didn't, Nelson. She overheard our talk the week before. She -followed me out to the grape-arbor and heard every word of it." - -"Oh, I see--I see!" exclaimed Floyd; "she was at the bottom of it all." - -"Yes, her mind was frightfully upset. She came to me this morning and -cried and told me that she had heard so many nice things about you of -late that she was afraid she had wronged you. She thinks now that her -mind was really unbalanced that night. I believe it myself, for no -thoroughly sane person could have played the part she did. She persuaded -herself that your intentions were not pure and she felt justified in -taking any step to save me." - -"Oh, I remember now," said Floyd. "She could easily have misunderstood -my meaning that night, for I was in such a state of nervous excitement -that I did not go into details as to my plans. After I left you I -remembered, too, that I had not offered you a beautiful ring that I'd -bought for you in Atlanta. It's in my trunk in my room. Even after I'd -lost all hope of ever winning you, I could not bear to part with it." - -"Oh, Nelson, did you get me a ring?" She leaned towards him in childlike -eagerness. "What kind of one was it?" - -"The prettiest, whitest diamond I could buy in Atlanta," Floyd said, -almost holding his breath in suspense. "Oh, Cynthia, you say your mother -kept you from meeting me that night. If you had come what would have -been your decision?" - -Cynthia's color rose; she avoided his hungry eyes as she looked down -into the fire. The house was very still, and Pole Baker's voice suddenly -rose into audibility. - -"I tell you, I've jest _got_ to have a kiss," he said, "and I'm goin' -to have it right this minute! Do you reckon I'm goin' to stand here idle -an' them two in thar--" - -"Pole, Pole, stop! Let me alone--behave yore-se'f!" cried Mrs. Baker. -There was a shuffling of feet then all was quiet. - -Floyd leaned towards Cynthia till his lips almost touched her pink ear. -"If you had met me that night what would have been my fate?" he asked, -tremblingly. - -Cynthia hesitated a moment longer, then she looked straight into his -eyes and said, simply: "I was ready to go with you, Nelson. I'd thought -it all over. I knew--I knew I'd be unhappy without you. Yes, I was ready -to go." - -"Thank God!" Floyd cried, taking her hands and holding them tenderly. -"And Hillhouse, you are not engaged to him, then?" - -"Oh no. He was very persistent at Cartersville, but I refused him there -for the last time. There is a rich old maid in the town who is dead in -love with him and admires his preaching extravagantly. He showed me his -worst side when I gave him his final answer. He told me she had money -and would marry him and that he was going to propose to her. Do you -think I could have lived with a creature like that, after--after--" - -She went no further. Floyd drew her into his arms. Her head rested on -his shoulder, his eyes feasting on her beautiful flushed face. - -"After what?" he said. "Say it, darling--say it!" - -"After knowing you," she said, turning her face so that he could not see -her eyes. "Nelson, I knew all along that you would grow to be the good, -strong man you have become." - -"You made me all I am," he said, caressingly. "You and Pole Baker. -Darling, let's go tell him." - -Floyd walked home with Cynthia half an hour later and left her at the -door. She went into her mother's room, and, finding the old woman awake, -she told her of the engagement. - -There was no light in the room save that of the moonbeams falling -through the windows. Mrs. Porter sat up in her bed. For a moment she was -silent, and Cynthia wondered what she would say. - -"I'm glad, very glad," Mrs. Porter said, huskily. "I was afraid I'd -ruined all your chances. I see my mistake now. I misjudged him. Cynthia, -I reckon my mind was really upset. I took a wrong view of the whole -thing, and now"--the old woman's voice broke--"and now I suppose you and -he will always hate me." - -"Oh, mother, don't talk that way!" Cynthia sat down on the bed, put her -arm about her mother, and kissed her. "After all, it was for the best. I -didn't want to marry that way--this will be so much more satisfactory." - -"That's certainly true," said Mrs. Porter, slightly mollified. "I was -wrong, but, in the long run, it is better as it is." - -The next morning after breakfast Mrs. Porter told Nathan the news as -he stood out under an apple-tree sharpening a wooden tooth for his big -triangular harrow. - -"I knowed she'd yank 'im," he chuckled. "He certainly was the king-fish -o' these matrimonial waters, an' with all the fishin'-poles along the -bank, it jest tuck Nathan Porter's clear-headed daughter to jerk the -hook into his gills. But you mighty nigh spiled it with yore everlastin' -suspicions an' the long-legged galoot that you kept danglin' 'fore the'r -eyes." - - -THE END - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pole Baker, by Will N. Harben - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POLE BAKER *** - -***** This file should be named 51918.txt or 51918.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/1/51918/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - 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. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |