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diff --git a/33736-h/33736-h.htm b/33736-h/33736-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e70882e --- /dev/null +++ b/33736-h/33736-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15619 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Tempering, by Charles Neville Buck</title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Tempering, by Charles Neville Buck, +Illustrated by Ralph Pallen Coleman</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Tempering</p> +<p>Author: Charles Neville Buck</p> +<p>Release Date: September 16, 2010 [eBook #33736]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TEMPERING***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by David Garcia, Mary Meehan,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + Kentuckiana Digital Library<br /> + (<a href="http://kdl.kyvl.org/">http://kdl.kyvl.org/</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Kentuckiana Digital Library. See + <a href="http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts;view=toc;idno=b92-177-30418494"> + http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts;view=toc;idno=b92-177-30418494</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE TEMPERING</h1> + +<h2>BY CHARLES NEVILLE BUCK</h2> + +<h3>Author of "The Call of the Cumberland," "The Battle Cry," etc., etc.</h3> + + +<h4>FRONTISPIECE BY<br /> +RALPH PALLEN COLEMAN</h4> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h4>GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK<br /> +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY<br /> +1920</h4> + +<h4><i>Copyright, 1920, by</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Doubleday, Page & Company</span></h4> + +<h4><i>All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages +including the Scandinavian</i></h4> + +<h4>Copyright, 1919, by The Ridgeway Company</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + + +<h3>"'<i>I've never seen the evening star rise up over the +Kaintuck Ridges that I haven't ... thought of it as your own star.</i>'"</h3> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">CHAPTER XLVIII</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE TEMPERING</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + + +<p>"Nothin' don't nuver come ter pass hyarabouts!"</p> + +<p>The boy perched disconsolately on the rotting fence threw forth his +lament aloud to the laurelled silences of the mountain sides and the +emptiness of space.</p> + +<p>"Every doggone day's jest identical with all ther balance—save only +thet hit's wuss!"</p> + +<p>He sat with his back turned on the only signs of human life within the +circle of his vision; unless one called the twisting creek-bed at his +front, which served that pocket of the Kentucky Cumberlands as a +highway, a human manifestation.</p> + +<p>There behind him a log-cabin breathed smokily through its mud-daubed +chimney; a pioneer habitation in every crude line and characteristic. On +the door hung, drying, the odorous pelt of a "varmint." Against the wall +leaned a rickety spinning wheel.</p> + +<p>To all that, which he hated, he kept his stiff back turned, but his +ears had no defence against the cracked falsetto of an aged voice +crooning a ballad that the pioneers had brought across the ridges from +tide-water ... a ballad whose phrasing was quaintly redolent of antiquity.</p> + +<p>The boy kicked his broganned heels and snorted. His clothes were +homespun and home sewed and his touselled shock of red-brown hair +cropped out from under a coon skin cap. His given name was Boone and his +life was as hobbled by pioneer restrictions as was that of the greater +Boone—but with a difference.</p> + +<p>The overland argonauts who had set their feet and faces westward across +these same mountains bore on their memories the stimulating image of all +that they had left behind and carried before their eyes the alluring +hope of what they were to find.</p> + +<p>This Boone, whose eyes, set in a freckled face, were as blue as overhead +skies and deep with a fathomless discontent, had neither past nor future +to contemplate—only a consuming hunger for a life less desolate. That +of his people was unaltered—save for a lapse into piteous human +lethargy—from the days when the other Boone had come on moccasined feet +to win the West—for they were the offspring of the stranded; the heirs +of the lost.</p> + +<p>Over all the high, hunched steepness of the ranges, Autumn had wandered +with a palette of high colour and a brush of frost, splashing out the +summer's sun-burned green with champagne yellow, burgundy-red and +claret-crimson. To the nostrils, too, there floated with the +thistledown, hints of bursting ripe fox-grapes and apples ready for the +cider press.</p> + +<p>Countless other times Boone had sat here on this top-rail in his +hodden-gray clothes and his slate-gray despair, making the same plaint, +and knowing that only a miracle would ever bring around the road's +turning anything less commonplace than a yoke of oxen or a native as +drab as the mule he straddled.</p> + +<p>Yet as the boy capped his lamentation with a sigh that seemed to +struggle up from the depths of his being, a breeze whispered along the +mountain sides; the crisp leaves stirred to a tinkle like low laughter +and there materialized a horseman who was in no wise to be confused with +ordinary travellers in these parts. Boone Wellver caught his breath in a +gasp of surprise and interest, and a low whistle sounded between his +white teeth.</p> + +<p>"Lord o' Mercy," breathed the urchin, "hit's a furriner! Now I wonder +who is he?"</p> + +<p>The stranger was mounted on a mule whose long ears flapped dejectedly +and whose shamble had in it the flinch of galled withers, but the man +in the saddle sat as if he had a charger under him—and it was this +indefinable declaration of bearing that the boy saw and which, at first +glance, fired his imagination.</p> + +<p>The traveller's face was bronzed and the moustache and imperial, trimmed +in the fashion of the Third Napoleon's court, were only beginning to +lose their sandy colour under a dominance of gray.</p> + +<p>The eyes—though now they were weary with travel and something more +fundamental, too, than physical fatigue—were luminous of quality and a +singularly clear gray of colour. They were such eyes as could be dogged +and stern as flint or deep and bafflingly gentle like mossy waters.</p> + +<p>Covering the bony flanks of the mule and bulging grotesquely to port and +starboard, hung capacious canvas saddle pockets—and as the stranger +drew rein the boy's eyes dwelt with candid inquisitiveness upon them. +Out of the cavernous maw of one of these receptacles protruded the +corner of a tin dispatch box and fastened to a cantle ring behind the +saddle was a long, slender object in a water-proof covering laced at the +top.</p> + +<p>At sight of that, Boone's eyes livened yet more, for he recognized the +shrouded shape though it was a thing almost as foreign to his world as +starlight is to the floor of the sea. Once he had been to Marlin Town on +a troubled Court day when a detachment of militia had stood guard in the +square to overawe warring factions and avert bloodshed. Their failure to +do so is another story, but their commanding officer had worn a sabre, +and now with a stirring excitement the boy divined that, this "qu'ar +contraption" dangling at the newcomer's back was nothing less portentous +than a sword!</p> + +<p>Straightway the drab curtain of life's unrelief was rent for Boone +Wellver, and shot through with gleaming filaments of wonderment and +imaginative speculation. Here, of a sudden, came Romance on horseback, +and what matter that the horse was a mule?</p> + +<p>"Son," he said in a kindly manner, "I'm bound for Cyrus Spradling's +house, and I begin to suspect that I must have lost my way. How about +it?"</p> + +<p>Boone did not immediately reply. He merely poured out of his wide and +innocent blue eyes a scrutiny as inquisitorial as though he had been +stationed here on picket duty and were vested with full authority to +halt whomsoever approached.</p> + +<p>While the newcomer sat, waiting in his saddle, Boone Wellver vaulted +lightly down from fence rail to gravel roadway and, standing there as +slim yet as sturdy as a hickory sapling, raised one hand towards the +mule's flank, but arrested it midway as he inquired, "Thet critter o' +yourn—hit don't foller kickin', does hit?"</p> + +<p>"Stand clear of its heels," cautioned the man hastily. "I've known this +beast only since morning—but as acquaintance ripens, admiration wanes. +What's your name?"</p> + +<p>"Boone Wellver. What's yourn?"</p> + +<p>"Mine is Victor McCalloway. Does your father live near here?"</p> + +<p>"Hain't got no daddy."</p> + +<p>"Your mother, then?"</p> + +<p>"Hain't got no mammy nuther."</p> + +<p>The stranger gazed down from his saddle with interested eyes, and under +the steadiness of his scrutiny Boone was smitten with an abrupt +self-consciousness.</p> + +<p>"Don't you belong to any one at all?" The question was put slowly, but +the reply came with prompt and prideful certitude.</p> + +<p>"I'm my own man. I dwells with a passel of old granny folks an' +gray-heads, though." Having so enlightened his questioner, he added with +a ring of pride, as though having confessed the unflattering truth about +his immediate household, he was entitled to boast a little of more +distant connections:</p> + +<p>"Asa Gregory's my fust cousin by blood. I reckon ye've done heered tell +of him, hain't ye?"</p> + +<p>Across the face of Victor McCalloway flitted the ghost of a satirical +smile, which he speedily repressed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said briefly with non-committal gravity, "I've heard of him."</p> + +<p>To the outer world from which McCalloway came few mountain names had +percolated, attended by notability. A hermit people they are and +unheralded beyond their own environment—yet now and then the reputation +of one of them will not be denied. So the newspaper columns had given +Asa Gregory space, headlines even, linking to his name such appositives +as "mountain desperado" and "feud-killer."</p> + +<p>When he had shot old John Carr to death in the highway, such unstinted +publicity had been accorded to his acts—such shudder-provoking fulness +of detail—that Asa had found in it a very embarrassment of fame.</p> + +<p>But the boy spoke the name of his kinsman in accents of unquestioning +admiration, and Victor McCalloway only nodded as he repeated,</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've heard of him."</p> + +<p>Then as the traveller gathered up his reins to start onward, a tall +young man came, with the swing of an elastic stride, around the next +turn and, nodding to the boy, halted at the mule's head. He was an +upstanding fellow, of commanding height, and the tapering staunchness of +a timber wedge. He carried a rifle upon his shoulder and his +clear-chiselled face bore the pleasant recommendation of straight-gazing +candour. His clothing was rough, yet escaped the seeming of roughness, +because it sat upon his splendid body and limbs as if a part of +them—like a hawk's plumage. But it was the eyes under a broad forehead +that were most notable. They were unusually fine and frank; dark and +full of an almost gentle meditativeness. Here was a native, thought the +man on the mule, whose gaze, unlike that of many of his fellows, was +neither sinister nor furtive. Here was one who seemed to have escaped +the baleful heritage of grudge-bearing.</p> + +<p>Then McCalloway's thought was interrupted by the voice of the boy +declaring eagerly: "This hyar furriner 'lows ter ride over ter Cyrus +Spradlin's dwellin' house. We've jest been talkin' erbout ye—an' he's +already done heered of ye, Asa!"</p> + +<p>The tall man on foot stiffened, at the announcement, into something like +hostile rigidity, and the velvet softness of eye which, a moment ago, a +woman might have envied, flashed into the hard agate of suspicion.</p> + +<p>He stood measuring the stranger for an uncompromising matter of moments +before he spoke, and when words came they were couched in a steely +evenness of tone. "So ye've heerd of me—hev ye?"</p> + +<p>He paused a moment after that, his face remaining mask-like, then he +went on:</p> + +<p>"I reckon whatever ye heered tell of me war either right favourable or +right scandalous—dependin' on whether ye hed speech with my friends—or +my enemies. I've got a lavish of both sorts."</p> + +<p>McCalloway also stiffened at the note of challenge.</p> + +<p>"I never talked to any one about you," he rejoined crisply. "I read your +name in newspapers—as did many others, I dare say."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I reckon ye read in them papers thet I kilt Old Man Carr. Wa'al, +thet war es true es text. I kilt him whilst he was aimin' ter lay-way +me. He'd done a'ready kilt my daddy an' I was ridin' inter Marlin Town +ter buy buryin' clothes—when we met up in ther highway. Thet's ther +whole hist'ry of hit."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gregory," the older man said slowly with an even courtesy that +carried a note of aloofness, "I've neither the right nor the disposition +to question you on personal matters. I reserve the privilege of +discussing my own affairs only so far as I choose, and I recognize the +same right in others. My final opinions, however, are not formed on +hearsay."</p> + +<p>The brown eyes softened again and the features relaxed. "I reckon," +commented Asa with a touch of shame-faced apology in his tone, "thar +warn't no proper call fer me ter start in straightway talkin' erbout +myself nohow—but when a man's enemies air a'seekin' ter git him hung, +hit's liable ter make him touchy an' mincy-like. Hit don't take no hard +bite ter hurt a sore tooth, no-ways."</p> + +<p>Victor McCalloway inclined his head. "I stopped here," he explained, "to +ask directions of this lad. These infernal roads confuse me."</p> + +<p>"I reckon they do be sort o' mystifyin' ter a furriner," assented the +mountaineer, who stood charged with murder, then he added with grave +courtesy: "I'll go back ter ther fork of ther highroad with ye an' sot +ye on yore way ef so be hit would convenience ye any."</p> + +<p>As mounted traveller and unmounted guide went on toward the rounded cone +of Cinder Knob it seemed to loom as far away as ever, masking behind its +timbered distances the unseen trickle of Hominy Mill Creek, where Cyrus +Spradling dwelt.</p> + +<p>But to right and left, ever the same, yet ever changing; sombre in +shadowed gorge and bright of sunlit crest, lay the broken, forested +hills. Their horizons gathered in tangled depths of timber—shadowed +hiding places of chasms—silences and a brooding spirit of mystery.</p> + +<p>At length a sudden elbow in the twisting way brought them face to face +with two rifle-bearing men. They were gaunt fellows, tall but slouching +and loose of joint. Their thin faces, too, were saturnine and ugly with +the cast of vindictiveness.</p> + +<p>"Howdy, Asa," accosted one and, with a casual nod, the guide responded, +"Howdy, Jett," but in the brief silence that followed, broken by the +wheezy panting of the mule, McCalloway fancied he could discern an +undernote of tension.</p> + +<p>"This here man," went on Asa Gregory, jerking his head backward, as if +in answer to an unuttered query, "gives ther name of McCalloway. I +hain't never seed him afore this day, but he's farin' over ter +Spradling's an' I proffered ter kinderly sot him on his way. I couldn't +skeercely do no less fer him."</p> + +<p>The two nodded and when some further exchange of civilities had +followed, passed on and out of sight. But for a while after their +departure Asa stood unmoving with his head intently bent in an attitude +of listening—and though his rifle still nestled unshifted in its +cradling elbow, the fingers of the trigger hand twitched a little and +the brown eyes were again agate-hard. Finally the guide's mouth line +relaxed from the straight tautness of whatever emotion had caused that +stiffening of posture, and the lips moved in low speech—almost +drawlingly soft of cadence.</p> + +<p>"I reckon they've done gone on," he said, as if speaking to himself; +then lifting his eyes to his companion, he explained briefly. "Not +meanin' no offence, I 'lowed hit war kinderly charitable ter ye ter let +them fellers know ye jest fell in with me accidental like. They wouldn't +favour ye no great degree ef they figgered me an' you was close +friends."</p> + +<p>"And yet," hazarded McCalloway, groping in the bewilderment of this +strange environment, "you greeted each other amicably enough."</p> + +<p>Gregory's lips twisted at the corners into a satirical smile.</p> + +<p>"When they comes face ter face with me in ther highroad," he answered +calmly, "we meets an' makes our manners ther same es anybody else—a +man's <i>got</i> ter be civil. But we keeps a'watchin' one another outen ther +tails of our eyes, jest ther same. Them two fellers air Blairs an' them +an' ther Carrs is married in an' out an' back an' fo'th twell they're +all as thick tergether as pigs outen ther same litter."</p> + +<p>The traveller's question came a little incredulously.</p> + +<p>"You mean—that those men are your actual enemies?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I'd</i> call 'em enemies. I knows thet they aims ter git me some day—ef +so be they're able."</p> + +<p>"And you—?"</p> + +<p>The tall man in the road looked steadily into the face of his companion +for a moment, then said deliberately, "Me? Oh, of course, I aims ter +carcumvent 'em—ef so be <i>I'm</i> able."</p> + +<p>When the newcomer had reached a point from which he no longer needed +guidance Asa Gregory wheeled and began to back-track on his steps, but +before he had covered a half mile he turned abruptly from the road and +was swallowed in the thicket where the waxen confusion of rhododendron +and laurel, the tangle of holly and thorn seemed solid and impenetrable. +He went with head bent and noiseless footfall—though the sifting leaves +were crisp—but with eye, ear and nostril delicately alert and +receptive.</p> + +<p>As Asa Gregory slipped, shadow like, among the shifting lights of the +late afternoon, his face wore a grim smile, and when he had come to a +point determined by some system of his own, he dropped to a +low-crouching posture and continued his journey a step or two at a time, +with a perfection of caution, and with eyes and ears strained in +expectancy.</p> + +<p>Across a gray-green hummock of sandstone, so villainously matted with +blackberry briars that a pointer-dog would have balked at its edge, he +hitched himself forward on his belly. From there he could look down on +the road he had abandoned—and the thick bushes that fringed it, and +there he lay, silent and flat as a lizard, scanning the lower ground.</p> + +<p>A less acute and instinctive eye would have made little of it all, save +the variegated colours of the foliage, but after a while he picked out a +scrap of grey-brown buried deep and motionless under the leafage, much +like the hue of the earth itself. His smile became more sardonically set +and his muscles tensed as his rifle barrel was thrust forward. But he +still sprawled there hugging the earth, and finally hushed voices stole +up to him.</p> + +<p>"... He's got ter pass by hyar ef he holds ter ther highway.... I reckon +he don't hardly suspicion nothin'." Then a second voice spoke Asa's name +and linked it with foul expletives, yet save for the gray patches in the +brush almost as hard to see as a rabbit crouched in dry grass there was +no visible sign ... no warning.</p> + +<p>Asa's face blackened. His thumb lay on the hammer of his rifle and his +thoughts ran to bitter turmoil.</p> + +<p>"I <i>'lowed</i> them Blairs hed hit in head ter lay-way me this evenin'," he +mused. "I jest <i>felt</i> hit in my bones, somehow."</p> + +<p>The hatred in his veins pulsed and simmered. Here he lay behind them and +above them, while they lurked in ambush waiting for him to pass in front +and below. One shot from his rifle and Jett Blair would never rise. His +face would sag forward—that was all—and as his companion scrambled up +in dismay, he too would fall back. Asa could picture the expression of +astonished panic that would gleam in his eyes for the one brief moment +before he too crumpled. Asa's finger tingled with an itch which only +trigger-pressure could cool and appease.</p> + +<p>Yet slowly and resolutely he shook his head. "No," he told himself, "no, +hit won't hardly do. Thar's one murder charge a'hangin' over me now—an' +es fer <i>them</i>, thar's time a'plenty. I hain't no-ways liable ter +fergit!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + + +<p>Backward he edged to the far side of the rock, and on he went by a +detour which, in due course, brought him out to the road once more at +that panel of fence where Boone Wellver still sat perched in the deep +preoccupation of his thoughts. These reflections focussed about the +stranger who had lately ridden by, and as Gregory paused, with no +revealing sign in his face of the events of the past half-hour, the boy +blurted out the fulness of his interest.</p> + +<p>"Asa, did ye find out who <i>is</i> he? Did ye see thet <i>sward</i> he hed +hangin' ter his saddle, an' did ye note all them qu'ar contraptions he +was totin' along with him?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't hev overly much speech with him," was the grave response. "But +he 'lowed he'd done come from acrost ther waters—from somewhars in +t'other world. I reckon he's done travelled wide."</p> + +<p>"His looks hain't none common nuther!" Boone's eyes were sparkling; his +imagination galloping free and uncurbed. "I've done read stories about +kings an' sich-like, travellin' hither an' yon unbeknownst ter common +folks. What does ye reckon, Asa, mout <i>he</i> be su'thin' like thet? A king +or su'thin?"</p> + +<p>"Ef so be he's a king," opined Asa Gregory drily, "he's shore done +picked him out a God-fersaken place ter go a'travellin' in." The dark +eyes riffled for a moment into a hint of covert raillery. "Ye didn't +chanst ter discarn no crown, did ye, Booney, pokin' a gold prong or two +up outen them saddle pockets?"</p> + +<p>Boone Wellver flushed brick-red and straightway his words fell into a +hot disclaimer of gullibility. "I hain't no plum, daft idjit. I didn't, +ter say, <i>really</i> think he was a king—but his looks <i>wasn't</i> none +common."</p> + +<p>The older kinsman granted that contention and for a while they talked of +Victor McCalloway, but at length Asa shifted the subject.</p> + +<p>"A week come Monday," he informed the boy, "thar's a'goin' ter be a +monstrous big speakin' at Marlin Town. Ther Democrat candi<i>date</i> fer +Governor aims ter speechify an' I 'lowed mebby ye'd love ter go along +with me an' listen at him."</p> + +<p>Whenever Asa yielded to the temptation of teasing his young cousin he +hastened to make amends for the indulgence and now the boy's face was +ashine with anticipation.</p> + +<p>Customarily in Kentucky from the opening of the campaign to the day of +election the tide and sweep of political battle runs hot and high. But +in that autumn of 1899 all precedents of party feeling were engulfed in +a tidal wave of bitterness and endowed with a new ferocity ominously +akin to war. The gathering storm centred and beat about the head of one +man whose ambition for gubernatorial honours was the core and essence of +the strife. He was, in the confident estimate of his admirers, a giant +whose shoulders towered above the heads of his lesser compatriots. An +election law bore his name—and his adversaries gave insistent warning +that it surrendered the state, bound hand and foot, to a triumvirate of +his own choosing.</p> + +<p>Into the wolf-like battle-royal of his party's convention he had gone +seemingly the weakest of three aspirants for the Democratic nomination. +Out of it, over disrupted party-elements, he had emerged—triumphant.</p> + +<p>Whether one called him righteous crusader or self-seeking demagogue, the +fact stood baldly clear that his name with an "ism" attached had become +the single issue in that State, and that hero-worship and hatred +attended upon its mention.</p> + +<p>Back to the people of the inaccessible hills, living apart, aloof and +neglected, came some of the murmurs of the tempest that shook the +lowlands. Here at the edge of a normally Democratic State which had in +earlier times held slaves and established an aristocracy, the hillsmen +living by the moil of their own sweat had hated alike slave and +slave-holder and had remained solidly Republican. For them it was enough +that William Goebel was not of their party. Basing their judgment on +that premise, they passed on with an uncomplicated directness to the +conclusion that the deleterious things said of him by envenomed orators +were assertions of gospel truth.</p> + +<p>Now that man was carrying his campaign into the enemy's country. +Realizing without illusion the temper of the audience which would troop +in from creek-bed and cove and the branch-waters "back of beyond," he +was to speak in Marlin Town where the cardinal faith of the mountains +is, "hate thine enemy!"</p> + +<p>In the court-house square of Marlin Town, under the shadow of high-flung +hills, had gathered close-packed battalions of listeners. Some there +were who carried with them their rifles and some who looked as foreign +to even these rude streets as nomads ridden in from the desert.</p> + +<p>A brass band had come with the candidate's special train and blared out +its stirring message. There was a fluttering of flags and a brave +showing of transparencies, and to Boone Wellver, aged fifteen, as he +hung shadow-close at Asa Gregory's elbow, it all seemed the splendour of +panoply and the height of pageantry.</p> + +<p>From the hotel door, as the man and boy passed it, emerged two gentlemen +who were clothed in the smoother raiment of "Down below," and Boone +pointed them out to his companion.</p> + +<p>"Who <i>air</i> they, Asa?" he whispered, and his kinsman carelessly +responded:</p> + +<p>"One of 'em's named Masters. He's a coal-mine boss—but I hain't never +seed t'other one, afore now."</p> + +<p>Strolling along the narrow plank runway that did service as a sidewalk, +the boy glimpsed also the mysterious stranger who had ridden in on a +mule, with a canvas-covered sword at his saddle ring.</p> + +<p>Then the fanfare of the band fell silent and a thin figure in an ancient +frock coat stepped forward on the platform itself and raised its hands +to shout: "Fellow Citizens and Kentuckians of Marlin County!"</p> + +<p>Ranged importantly behind the draped bunting stood the corporal's guard +of native Democratic leaders—leaders who were well-nigh without +followers—and who now stood as local sponsors for the Candidate +himself.</p> + +<p>Boone caught his breath and listened, his eager eyes conspicuous among +the immobile and stolid faces of the unresponsive throng as the speaker +let flow his words of encomium.</p> + +<p>Seeking to compensate by his own vehemence for the unreceptiveness of +his audience, the thin master of ceremonies heaped the Ossa of +fulsomeness upon the Pelion of praise. "And now, men of Marlin," he +shouted in his memorized peroration, "now I have the distinguished +honour of presenting to you the man whose loins are girt in the people's +fight—the—the—ahem,—unterrified champeen of the Commonwealth's +yeomanry—. Gentlemen, the next Governor of Kentucky!"</p> + +<p>A peroration without applause is like a quick-step beat upon a loose +drum-head, and an the local sponsor stood back in the dispiriting +emptiness of dead silence—unbroken by a single hand-clap—his face +fell. For several moments that quiet hung like a paralyzing rebuff, then +from the outskirts of the crowd a liquor-thickened voice bellowed—"Next +gov'nor—of hell!"</p> + +<p>To the front of the platform, with that derisive introduction, +calmly—even coldly, stepped a dark, smooth-shaven man, over whose +stocky shoulders and well-rounded chest a frock coat was tightly +buttoned.</p> + +<p>For a while the Candidate stood looking out, gauging his audience, and +from him there seemed to emanate an assurance of power before his lips +parted. A heavy lock of coal-black hair fell over his forehead, across +almost disdainfully cold eyes went sooty lashes, and dark brows met +above the prominent nose. The whole face seemed drawn in bold charcoal +strokes, uncompromising of line and feature—a portrayal of force.</p> + +<p>Then the resonant voice broke silence, and though it came calmly and +moderately pitched, it went out clarion-clear over the crowd like the +note of a fox horn.</p> + +<p>"Some one out there shouted—'Next governor of hell!'" he began without +preamble. "I grant you that if any region needs improved government it +is hell, and if there is a state on this earth where a man might hope to +qualify himself for that task, it is this state. Let me try that first, +my friend. I believe in myself, but I am only human."</p> + +<p>He launched forthright into arraignment of his enemies with sledge-blows +of denunciation untempered by any concession to time, place or +condition, and though scowls grew vindictively black about him, he knew +that he was holding his audience.</p> + +<p>He was a Vulcan forging thunders with words and destructive batteries of +bolts with phrases, and Boone Wellver—trembling with excitement as a +pointer puppy trembles with the young eagerness of the covey-scent in +his nostrils—seemed to be in the presence of a miracle; the miracle of +eloquence.</p> + +<p>"My God," breathed the less impressionable Asa Gregory under his breath, +"but thet feller hes a master gift fer lyin'!"</p> + +<p>At the end, with one clenched fist raised high, the speaker thundered +out his final words of defiance: "The fight is on, and I believe in +fighting. I ask no quarter and I fear no foe!"</p> + +<p>Again he paused, and again save for the valiant enthusiasm on the +platform at his back, he met with no response except a grim and negative +silence.</p> + +<p>But this disconcerting stillness was abruptly ripped asunder by a pistol +shot and a commotion of confused voices, rising where figures began to +eddy and mill at the outskirts. The reception committee closed hastily +and protectingly about the candidate, whose challenge seemed to have +been accepted by some irresponsible gun-fighter, but he thrust them back +with a face of unaltered and stony calmness. Though he had finished, he +continued to stand at the front with hands idly resting on the platform +rail as if meaning to demonstrate his contempt for anything like +retreat.</p> + +<p>While he still tarried there a tall figure elbowed its way through the +crowd until it stood near. It was the figure of Asa Gregory, and, +raising a hand for recognition, it called out in a full-chested voice: +"Thet shot war fired by a feller thet war full of white licker—an' +they're takin' him ter ther jail-house now. I reckon yore doctrine +hain't hardly converted nobody hyarabouts—but we don't aim ter insult +no visitor."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Victor McCalloway had come to Cyrus Spradling's house to remain until he +could arrange a more permanent residence. The purpose that lay behind +his coming was one which he had not felt called upon to explain, and +though he had much to learn of this new place of abode, still he had +come forearmed with some of the cardinals of a necessary understanding.</p> + +<p>They were an incurious people with whom he had cast his lot, content +with their remoteness, and it was something that here a man could lose +himself from questions touching the past, so long as he answered frankly +those of the present. It suited McCalloway to seal the back pages and +the bearded men evinced no wish to penetrate them.</p> + +<p>Before the snow flew the newcomer was to be housed under his own +roof-tree, and today in answer to the verbal announcement that he was to +have a "working" on the land he had bought, the community was present, +armed with hammer and saw, with adze and plane, mobilized under the +auspices of Cyrus Spradling who moved, like a shaggy patron saint, among +them.</p> + +<p>There were men, working shoulder to shoulder, whose enmities were deep +and ancient, but who today were restrained by the common spirit of +volunteer service to a neighbour. Cyrus had seen to it that the +gathering at McCalloway's "house-raising" should not bear the +prejudicial colour of partisanship, but that Carrs and Gregories alike +should have a hand in the activities which were going robustly forward +at the head of Snag Ridge.</p> + +<p>Back of Cedar Mountain no architect was available and no builders' union +afforded or withheld labour, but every man was carpenter and artisan in +his own right, and some were "practiced corner-men" as well.</p> + +<p>Through the sun-flooded day with its Indian summer dream along the +skyline their axes rang in accompaniment to their homely jests, and the +earnest whine of their saws went up with the minors of voices raised in +the plaintive strains of folk-lore ballads.</p> + +<p>The only wage accepted was food and drink. They would have thought as +readily of asking payment for participation in the rough festivities of +the "infare" with which the mountain groom brings his bride from her +wedding to his own house on a pillion at the back of his saddle.</p> + +<p>Tomorrow some of these same men, meeting in the roadway, would perhaps +eye each other with suspicion. Riding on, after greetings, they would go +with craned necks, neither trusting the other to depart unwatched, but +today the rude sanctuary of hospitality to the stranger rested over them +and the timbers that went up were raised by the hands of friends and +enemies alike.</p> + +<p>But toward sunset the newcomer chanced upon a fight that the simple code +had not safeguarded and that had gained headway before his interference.</p> + +<p>Down by the creek-bed, with no audience, he found two boys rolling in a +smother of dust and, until he remembered that the hill code of "fist and +skull" bars neither shod-toe nor bared tooth, he was shocked at the +unmitigated savagery of the combat.</p> + +<p>The strenuous pair rolled in a mad embrace, and as he approached, one of +the boys—whose back alone he could see—came to the top of the writhing +heap. While this one gouged, left handed, at eyes which the other +attempted to cover, his right hand whipped out a jack-knife which he +sought to open with his teeth. Out of the commotion came an animal-like +incoherence of snarls and panting profanity, and Victor McCalloway +caught the top boy by his shoulder and dragged him forcibly away from +what threatened to be maiming or worse.</p> + +<p>So pried from his victim, on the verge of victory, the boy with a bloody +and unrecognized face stood for an instant heaving of breast and +infuriated, then wrenching himself free from the detaining hand, he gave +a leap as sudden as that of a frightened buck and disappeared behind the +screen of the laurel.</p> + +<p>The other figure, with an eye blackened and bleeding from the raw +scratches of finger-nails about the lids, came more slowly to his feet, +his breath rasping with passion and exhaustion. He stood there before +his would-be rescuer—and McCalloway recognized Boone Wellver.</p> + +<p>"I'd hev licked him—so his own mammy wouldn't 'a' knowed him ef ye +hadn't 'a' bust in on me," he panted. "I'd done had him down oncet afore +an' I war jest erbout ter turn him under ergin."</p> + +<p>A light of suppressed drollery glinted into the eyes of the man whose +ruddy face remained otherwise unsmiling.</p> + +<p>"It looked to me as though you were in a situation where nothing could +save you but reinforcements—or surrender," he commented, and the +heaving body of the rescued boy grew rigid while his begrimed face +flamed with chagrin.</p> + +<p>"Surrender—knock under—ter <i>him</i>!" He spat out the words with a +venomous disgust. "Thet feller war a <i>Blair</i>! Did ye ever heer of a +Gregory hollerin' 'enough!' ter a Blair, yit!"</p> + +<p>McCalloway stood looking down with an amusement which he was considerate +enough to mask. He knew that Boone, though his surname was Wellver, was +still in all the meaning of feud parlance a Gregory and that in the +bitterness of his speech spoke not only individual animosity but +generations of vendetta. So he let the lad have his say uninterrupted, +and Boone's words ran freshet-like with the churn and tumble of his +anger. "Ye jest misjudged he war a'lickin' me, because ye seed him on +top an' a'gougin' at my eye. But I'd <i>done been</i> on top o' him—an' I'd +a got thar ergin. Ef you'd noted whar I'd done chawed his ear at he +wouldn't 'a' looked so good ter ye, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"Suppose he had gotten that knife open." The man still spoke with that +unpatronizing gravity which carries an untold weight of conviction to a +boy's mind. "What would he have done?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon he'd a'gutted me—but I didn't nuver aim ter let him git hit +open."</p> + +<p>"Are you a fighter by habit, Boone?"</p> + +<p>Something in the intonation caused the lad to flush afresh, this time +with the feeling that he had been unduly bragging, and he responded in a +lowered voice. "I hain't nuver tuck part in no gun-battles yit—but when +hit comes ter fist an' skull, I'm accounted ter be a right practiced +knocker an' I kin rass'le right good. What made ye ask me thet +question?"</p> + +<p>McCalloway held the angelic blue eyes, so paradoxically set in that +wrath-enflamed face, with his own steady gray ones, and spoke quietly:</p> + +<p>"Because if you are going to be a fighting man, it's important that you +should fight properly, I thought perhaps you'd like to talk to me about +it sometime. You see, I've been fighting all my life. It's been my +profession."</p> + +<p>Over the freckled face surged a wave of captivated interest. The Blair +boy was forgotten and the voice thrilled into earnest solicitation. +"Would ye l'arn me more about hit some time? What style of fightin' does +ye foller?"</p> + +<p>"The fair kind, I trust. Civilized warfare. The trade of soldiering."</p> + +<p>"I hain't nuver follered no unfa'r sort nuther," disclaimed Boone, and +his companion smiled enigmatically while he replied meditatively,</p> + +<p>"What is fair or unfair—what is courageous or cowardly—is largely a +matter of viewpoint. Some day I dare say you'll go out into the world +beyond the hills and out there you'll find that gouging eyes and chewing +ears isn't called fair—that shooting an enemy from ambush isn't called +courageous."</p> + +<p>That was a doctrine, Boone felt, which savoured of sacrilege. If it were +categorically true then his own people were cowards—and to his ardent +hero worship the Gregories and the Wellvers were exemplars of high +bravery, yet this man was no ordinary individual, and he spoke from a +wisdom and experience based on a lifetime of soldiering. A seed of +dilemma had fallen into the fallow soil of the lad's questioning mind, +and as he stood there in a swirl of perplexity he heard the other voice +explaining with a sort of comforting reassurance, "As I said, notions of +right and wrong vary with locality and custom—but it's good for a man +to know more than one standard—one set of ideas. If you ever go out in +the world you'll need that knowledge."</p> + +<p>After a period of reflection the boy demanded bluntly,</p> + +<p>"Whar-at war ye a'soldierin'?"</p> + +<p>For the first time, McCalloway's glance hardened and his tone sharpened. +He had not meant to throw open the discussion to a wide review of his +own past.</p> + +<p>"If you and I are going to be good friends, you mustn't ask too many +questions," he said curtly. "It doesn't make a boy popular."</p> + +<p>"I axes yore pardon; I didn't aim at no offence." The apology was +prompt, yet puzzled, and carried with it a note of injured dignity. "I +'lowed ye proffered ter tell me things—an' even ef ye told me all ye +knowed, I wouldn't go 'round blabbin' no-whars. I knows how ter hold my +own counsel."</p> + +<p>This time it was the seasoned man of experience who flushed. He felt +that he had first invited and then rebuffed a natural inquiry, and so +he, in turn, spoke apologetically: "I shall tell you things that may be +useful—but I sha'n't answer every question."</p> + +<p>After a long silence Boone spoke again, with the altered voice of +diffidence:</p> + +<p>"I reckon I hain't got nothin' more ter say," he contributed. "I reckon +I'll be farin' on."</p> + +<p>"You looked as if you were spilling over with things to say."</p> + +<p>"I had hit in head ter say some sev'ral things," admitted the youthful +clansman, "but they was all in ther manner of axin' more questions, so I +reckon I'll be farin' on."</p> + +<p>Victor McCalloway caught the deep hunger for information that showed out +of those independent young eyes, and he caught too the untutored +instinct of politeness, as genuine and unaffected as that of a desert +Sheik, which forced repression. He laid a kindly hand on the boy's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead and ask your questions, then," he directed, "and I'll answer +what I like and refuse to answer the rest. Is that a fair arrangement?"</p> + +<p>The brown face glowed. "Thet's es fa'r es airy thing kin be," was the +eager response. "I hain't nuver seed nothin' but jest these hyar +hills—an' sometimes hit kinderly seems like ter me thet ef I kain't +light out an' see all ther balance, I'll jest plain swell up an' bust +with ther cravin'."</p> + +<p>"You study history—and geography, don't you, Boone?"</p> + +<p>"Huh-huh." The tousled head nodded. "But thar's a passel of thet book +stuff thet a man kain't believe nohow. Hit ain't <i>reasonable</i>."</p> + +<p>"What books have you read?"</p> + +<p>"Every single damn one thet I could git my hands on—but thet hain't +been no lavish plenty." With a manner of groping for some point of +contact with the outer world, he added, "I've got a cousin thet's in +ther army, though. He's in ther Philippines right now. Did you soldier +in ther Philippines?" Abruptly Boone broke off, and then hastily he +prompted as he raised a hand in a gesture of caution, "Don't answer thet +thar question ef ye hain't got a mind ter! I jest axed hit heedless-like +without studyin' what I war a'doin'."</p> + +<p>McCalloway laughed aloud. "I'll answer it. No, I've never soldiered in +the Philippines nor anywhere under the American flag. My fighting has +all been with what you call the 'outlanders.'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + + +<p>McCalloway's house had been chinked and sealed within a few weeks and +now he was living under its roof. Boone had been out there often, and +one day when he went on to Asa Gregory's cabin his mind was unsettled +with the ferment of conflicting standards. Heretofore Asa had been his +sole and sufficient hero. Now there were two, and it was dawning upon +him, with a travail of dilemma, that between the essentials of their +creeds lay an irreconcilable divergence.</p> + +<p>As the boy reached his kinsman's doorstep in the lengthening shadows of +late afternoon, Asa's "woman" came out and hung a freshly scoured +dish-pan on a peg. In her cheeks bloomed a colour and maturity somewhat +too full-blown for her twenty years. Asa had married the "purtiest gal" +on five creeks, but the gipsy charm of her dark, provocative eyes would +die. Her lithe curves would flatten to angularity and the lustre fade +out of her hair's burnished masses with a few seasons of drudgery and +child-bearing.</p> + +<p>"Howdy, Booney," she said in greeting, and, without removing his hat, he +demanded curtly, "Whar's Asa at?"</p> + +<p>"He ain't come in yit." A suggestion of anxiety sounded through the +voice of Araminta Gregory. It was an apprehension which experience +failed to mitigate. She had married Asa while he stood charged with +homicide. The threat of lurking enemies had shadowed the celebration of +wedding and infare. She had borne his child while he sat in the +prisoner's dock. Now she was weaning it while he went abroad under bond. +One at least knew when the High Court sat, but one could neither gauge +nor calculate the less formal menace that lurked always in the +laurel—so one could only wait and endeavour to remain clear eyed.</p> + +<p>It was twilight before the man himself came in, and he slipped so +quietly across the threshold into the uncertain light of the room that +Boone, who sat hunched before the unkindled hearth, did not hear his +entrance. But in the door-frame of the shed kitchen the wife's taut +sense of waiting relaxed in a sigh of relief. Until tomorrow at least +the silent fear was leashed.</p> + +<p>An hour later, with the heavy doors protectingly barred, the man and the +boy who considered himself a man took their seats at the rough table in +the lean-to kitchen, but Araminta Gregory did not sit down to meat with +them. She would take her place at table when the lordlier sex had risen +from it, satisfied, since she was only a woman. She did not even know +that the custom whose decree she followed lacked universal sanction, +and, not knowing it, she suffered no discontent.</p> + +<p>From the hearth where the woman bent over crane and frying-pan, her face +hot and crimson, the red and yellow light spilled out into the primitive +room, catching, here, the bright colour of drying pepper-pods strung +along the rafters—there the duller glint of the house-holder's rifle +leaning not far from his hand. With the flare, the shadows of the +corners played a wavering hide-and-seek.</p> + +<p>Asa ate in abstracted silence, intent upon his side-meat and +"shucky-beans," but the boy, who was ordinarily ravenous, only dallied +with his food and his freckled face wore the set of a preternatural +solemnity.</p> + +<p>"Don't ye love these hyar molasses no more, Booney?" inquired Araminta, +to whose mind such an unaccustomed abstinence required explanation, and +the boy started with the shock of a broken revery and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I don't crave no more of 'em," he replied shortly. Once again his +thoughts enveloped him in a silence which he finally broke with a +vehement interrogation.</p> + +<p>"Asa, did ye ever heer anybody norrate thet hit's cowardly ter shoot an +enemy from ther bresh?"</p> + +<p>Asa paused, his laden knife suspended midway twixt platter and mouth. +For an instant his clear-chiseled features pictured only surprise for +the unexpected question—then they hardened as Athenian faces hardened +when Plato "corrupted the youth with the raising up of new gods."</p> + +<p>"Who's been a'talkin' blamed nonsense ter ye, Boone?" he demanded in a +terse manner tinctured with sharpness.</p> + +<p>The boy felt his cheeks grow suddenly hot with a quandary of +embarrassment. To McCalloway he stood pledged to keep inviolate the +confidence of their conversations, and it was only after an awkward +pause that he replied with a halting lameness:</p> + +<p>"Hit hain't jist p'intedly what nobody's been a'tellin' me. I ... I seed +in a book whar hit said somethin' ter thet amount." Suddenly with an +inspirational light of augmented authority, he added, "The Circuit-rider +hisself read outen ther Scriptures suthin' 'bout not doin' no murder."</p> + +<p>Asa carried the knife up to his lips and emptied its blade. Having done +so, he spoke with a deliberate and humourless sincerity.</p> + +<p>"Murder's a right ugly word, Boone, an' one a feller ought ter be +kinderly heedful erbout usin'. Barrin' ther Carrs an' Blairs an' +sich-like, I don't know nobody mean enough ter foller murderin'. +Sometimes a man's p'intedly fo'ced into a <i>killin'</i>, but thar's a heap +of differ betwixt them two things."</p> + +<p>The grave face of the boy was still clouded with his new-born +misgivings, and reading that perplexity, his kinsman went on:</p> + +<p>"Myself I've done been obleeged ter kill some sev'ral men. I plum +deplores hit. I wouldn't hold no high notion of anybody thet tuck ther +life of a feller-bein' without he <i>was</i> plum obleeged ter do hit—ner of +no man thet <i>didn't</i> ef hit war his cl'ar duty. Hit's done been ther +rise of fifty y'ars now since ther war first started up betwixt us an' +ther Carrs. Hit warn't none of my doin', but ever since then—off an' +on—my kinsfolk an' yourn hes done been shot down from ther la'rel—an' +we've done hit back an' sought ter hold ther score even—or a leetle +mite better. I've got my choice atween bein' run away from ther land +whar I was born at or else"—he let his hand drop back with a simple +gesture of rude eloquence until its fingers rested on the leaning +rifle—"or else I hev need ter give my enemies ther only style of +fightin' thet will avail. Seems like ter me hit'd be right cowardly ter +run away."</p> + +<p>To the boy these principles had never before needed defence. They had +been axioms, yet now he parried with a faltering demurrer:</p> + +<p>"Ther books says that, down below, when fellers fights, they does hit in +ther open."</p> + +<p>"Alright. Thet's ther best way so long as <i>both</i> of 'em air in ther +open. But ef one stands out in ther highway an' tother lays back in ther +timber, how long does ye reckon ther fight's a'goin' ter last? A man may +love ter be above-board—but he's <i>got</i> ter be practical."</p> + +<p>It was the man now who sat forgetful of his food, relapsing into a +meditative silence. The leaping fire threw dashes of orange high-lights +on his temple and jaw angle and in neither pattern of feature nor +quality of eye was there that degenerate vacuity which one associates +with barbarous cruelty.</p> + +<p>His wife, turning just then from the hearth, saw his abstraction—and +understood. She knew what tides of anxious thought and bitter +reminiscence had been loosed by the boy's questioning, and her own face +too stiffened. Asa was thinking of the malign warp and woof which had +been woven into the destiny of his blood and of the uncertain tenure it +imposed upon his own life-span. He was meditating perhaps upon the +wrinkled crone who had been his mother; "fittified" and mumbling +inarticulate and unlovely vagaries over her widowed hearth.</p> + +<p>But Araminta herself thought of Asa: of the dual menace of assassination +and the gallows, and a wave of nauseating terror assailed her. She shook +the hair resolutely out of her eyes and spoke casually:</p> + +<p>"La! Asa, ye're lettin' yore vittles git plum cold whilst ye sets thar +in a brown study." Inwardly she added with a white-hot ferocity of +passion, "Ef they lay-ways him, or hangs him, thank God his baby's a +man-child—an' I'll know how ter raise hit up ter take a full +accountin'!"</p> + +<p>But as the man's face relaxed and he reached toward the biscuit plate +his posture froze into an unmoving one—for just an instant. From the +darkness outside came a long-drawn halloo, and the poised hand swept +smoothly sidewise until it had grasped the rifle and swung it clear of +the floor. The eye could hardly have followed Asa's rise from his chair. +It seemed only that one moment found him seated and the next standing +with his body warily inclined and his eyes fixed on the door, while his +voice demanded:</p> + +<p>"Who's out thar?"</p> + +<p>"Hit's me—Saul Fulton. I wants ter have speech with ye."</p> + +<p>As the householder stepped forward, Araminta blocked his way, and spoke +in hurried syllables, with her hands on his two shoulders. "Hit hain't +sca'cely heedful fer ye ter show yoreself in no lighted doorway in ther +night time, Asa. Thet's how yore uncle died! I'll open hit an' hev a +look, first, my own self."</p> + +<p>The husband nodded and stood with the cocked rifle extended, while the +wife let down the bar and ushered in a visitor who entered with +something of a swagger and the air of one endowed with a worldly wisdom +beyond the ordinary.</p> + +<p>In raw-boned wiriness and in feature, Saul Fulton was typically a +mountaineer, but in dress and affectation of manner he was a nondescript +aping the tawdrily and cheaply urban. His dusty hat sat with an impudent +tilt on crisp curls glossed with pomade and his stale cigar-butt tipped +upward, under a rakish moustache.</p> + +<p>Fulton was the sort of mountaineer by whom the outer world misjudges +and condemns his race. He had left the backwoods to dwell among +"furriners" as a tobacco-raising tenant on a Bluegrass farm, and there +he had been mongrelized until he was neither wolf nor house-dog but a +thing characterized by the vices of each and the virtues of neither. In +him highland shrewdness had deteriorated into furtive cunning, and +mountain self-respect had tarnished into the dull discontent of class +hatred. But when he came to the hills, clad in shoddy finery to visit +men in honest homespun, he bore himself with a cocksure dare-deviltry +and malapert condescension. Saul was Asa Gregory's cousin, and since +Asa's family still held to the innate courtesies of the barbarian, they +received him unquestioningly, fed him, and bade him "Set ye a cheer in +front of the chimley-place."</p> + +<p>"I heer tell," suggested Asa with casual interest, "thet politics is +waxin' middlin' hot down thar in ther settlemints."</p> + +<p>After the mountain fashion the host and Boone had kicked off their heavy +shoes and spread their bare toes to the warmth of the blaze. Saul, as a +man of the world, refrained from this gaucherie.</p> + +<p>"Hell's red fire an' Hell's black smoke—hit hain't only ter say +politics this time." The response came with oracular impressiveness +while the speaker twirled his black moustache. "Hit savours a damn sight +more of civil war!"</p> + +<p>"I heered ther Democrat candidate speak at Marlin Town," contributed +Asa with tepid interest. "I 'lowed he hed a right hateful +countenance—cruel-like, thet is ter say."</p> + +<p>Here spoke the estimate of partisanship, but Saul straightened in his +chair and his eyes took on a sinister glitter.</p> + +<p>"Thet's ther identical thing thet brought me hyar ter ther hills. I come +ter bear tidin's ter upstandin' men like you. We're goin' ter need ye, +an' onlessen we all acts tergether our rights air goin' ter be +everlastin'ly trompled in ther dust."</p> + +<p>Gregory crumpled a handful of "natural leaf" and filled his pipe-bowl. +His gesture was as lazy and easy as that of a purring cat. "Oh, pshaw, +Saul," he deprecated, "I don't take no master interest in politics +nohow. I always votes ther Republican ticket because I was raised up ter +do thet—like most everybody else in these mountings."</p> + +<p>"But I'm a'tellin' ye this time thet hain't agoin' ter be enough ter +do!" The visitor leaned forward and spoke with impassioned tenseness. +"I've been dwellin' down thar amongst rich folks in ther flat Bluegrass +country an' I <i>knows</i> what I'm sayin'. Ther Democrat air es smart es +Satan's circuit-rider. Y'ars back he jammed a crooked law through ther +legislater jest a'lookin' forward ter this time an' day. Now he's cocked +an' primed ter steal ther office, like he stole ther nomination, an' +human freedom will be dead an' buried for all time in ther State of old +Kaintuck."</p> + +<p>Into Gregory's eyes as he listened stole an awakening light of interest +and indignation. Up here among the eyries of eagles the threat of +tyranny is hateful beyond words, and its invocation is a conjure spell +of incitement. But at once Asa's face cleared to an amused smile as he +inquired, "How does he aim ter compass all thet deviltry—ef ther people +votes in ther other feller?"</p> + +<p>The momentum of his own philippics had brought Saul Fulton to his feet. +Down there where one party had been split in twain and the other had +slipped all leash of decorum's restraint, he had been virulently +inoculated with the virus of hate, and now, since his memory was +tenacious, he swept, without crediting quotations, into a freshet of +argument that echoed every accusation and exaggerated every warning of +that merciless campaign.</p> + +<p>For a half hour he talked, with the fiery volubility of a prophet +inciting fanatics to a holy war, while his simple audience listened, +yielding by subconscious stages to his bitter text. At last he came to +the point toward which he had been progressing.</p> + +<p>"Down thar ther purse-proud Demmycrats calls us folks blood-thirsty +barbarians. Ter th'ar high-falutin' fashion o' thinkin' we're meaner +than ther very dirt under th'ar feet. Even ther niggers scorns us an' +calls us 'pore white trash.' When this man once gits in power he aims +ter make us feel ther weight of his disgust an' ter rule us henceforth +with bayonets an' milishy muskets. Afore this matter ends up thar's +liable ter be some shovellin' of graveyard dirt."</p> + +<p>"Looks right smart like hit mout be needful," acquiesced Gregory; and +Saul knew that he had won a convert to action.</p> + +<p>The insidious force of the visitor's appeal to mountain passion had +stolen into the veins of his hearers until it was not strange that their +eyes narrowed and their lips compressed into lines of ominous +straightness.</p> + +<p>"Now this air what I come hyar ter name ter ye, Asa." Saul reseated +himself and waved his cigar stub impressively. "Troublesome days air +a'comin' on an' us mountain men hev need ter lay by our own private +grievances an' stand tergether fer a spell."</p> + +<p>Asa's face darkened, with the air of a man who has discovered the catch +in an outwardly fair proposition.</p> + +<p>"What air ye a'drivin' at?" he demanded shortly, and his visitor +hastened to explain.</p> + +<p>"I wants thet all ther good Republicans in this deestrict shell send a +telegram ter our candi<i>date</i> thet we've done made a truce to our +enmities hyar at home, an' thet we all stands shoulder ter shoulder, +Gregories an' Carrs, Fultons an' Blairs alike, ter defend our rights es +freemen."</p> + +<p>Asa Gregory rose slowly and stood on his hearth with his feet wide apart +and his head thrown back. From straight shoulders to straight legs he +was as unmoving, for a space, as bronze, but when he spoke his voice +came out of his deep chest with the resonance of low and far-reaching +thunder.</p> + +<p>"Saul," he began, with a guarded deliberation, "I stands indicted before +ther High Co'te fer ther killin' of old man Carr. Ther full four seasons +of ther year hain't rolled round yit sence I buried my daddy out thar +with a Carr bullet drilled through his heart. Ther last time any man +preached a truce ter us Gregorys we agreed ter hit—an' my daddy was +lay-wayed an' shot ter death whilest we war still a'keepin' hit plum +faithful. Ther man thet seeks ter beguile me <i>now</i> with thet same +fashion of talk comes askin' me ter trust my life an' ther welfare of my +woman an' child ter ther faithless word of liars!"</p> + +<p>His voice leaped suddenly out of its difficult timbre of restraint and +rang echoing against the chinked timbers of the walls.</p> + +<p>"I've done suffered grievously enough already by trustin' ter infamy. +From now on I'll watch them enemies thet's nighest me fust—an' them +thet's further off atterwards. My God A'mighty, ef ye warn't my own +blood kin, I couldn't hardly suffer ye ter tarry under my roof atter +ye'd give voice ter sich a proffer!"</p> + +<p>Araminta Gregory had listened from the kitchen door but now she swept to +her husband's side and turned upon her visitor the wrath of blazing eyes +and a heaving bosom.</p> + +<p>"We hain't askin' no odds of nobody," she flared in a panting transport +of fury. "Asa kin safeguard his own so long es he hain't misled with +lyin' an' false pledges."</p> + +<p>"Don't fret yoreself none, Araminty," said the man, reassuring her with +a brusque but not ungentle hand on her trembling arm. Then he turned +with regained composure to Saul, as he inquired: "Does ther Carrs +proffer ter drap tha'r hell-bent detarmination ter penitenshery me or +hang met?"</p> + +<p>Somewhat dubiously Fulton shook his head in negation.</p> + +<p>"I reckon they 'low ye'd only mistrust 'em ef they proffered <i>thet</i>. All +they proposes is thet ontil this election's over an' sottled—not jest +at ther polls, but sottled fer good an' all—thar won't be no hand +raised erginst you ner yourn. I reckon ye kin bide yore time thet long, +an' when this racket's over ye'll be plum free ter settle yore own +scores." He paused, then added insinuatingly, "Every week a trial's put +off hit gits harder fer ther prosecution. Witnesses gits scattered like +an' men kinderly disremembers things."</p> + +<p>Asa Gregory, confronted with a new and complicated problem, sank back +into his seat and his attitude became one of deep meditation. He glanced +at the bowl of his dead pipe, leaned forward and drew a burning fagot +from the fire for its relighting; then, at length, he spoke with a +judicial deliberation.</p> + +<p>"This hyar's a solid Republican deestrick. We don't need no truce ter +make us vote ther ticket."</p> + +<p>The messenger from the outer world shook a dubious head. "Votin' ther +ticket hain't enough. Thar's ergoin' ter be a heap of fancy mathematics +in tallyin' thet vote all over ther State. Up hyar we've got ter make up +fer any deefault down below. We kain't do thet without we all stands +solid. Ef thar's any bickerin' them crooks'll turn hit ter account, but +ef we elects our man he hain't ergoin' ter fergit us."</p> + +<p>"So fur es thet goes," mused Asa, "I hain't a'seekin' no favours from +ther Governor."</p> + +<p>"Why hain't ye?" Saul lowered his voice a little for added effect. "Ye +faces a murder trial, don't ye? I reckon a Republican Governor, next +time, mout be right willin' ter grant ye a pardon ef ye laid by yore own +grievances fer ther good of ther party—hit wouldn't be no more'n fa'r +jestice."</p> + +<p>"What guaranty does these enemies of mine offer me?" inquired Asa +coolly. "Does they aim ter meet me half way?"</p> + +<p>"Hit's like this," Saul spoke now with undisguised excitement: "Ther +boys air holdin' a rally ternight over at ther incline.... A big lawyer +from Loueyville is makin' a speech thar.... They wants thet I shell +fotch ye back along with me—an' thet ye shan't tote no rifle-gun ner no +weepin' of airy sort. Tom Carr'll be thar too—unarmed."</p> + +<p>At the name Asa Gregory flinched as if he had been smitten in the face, +but the messenger went persuasively on:</p> + +<p>"Thar'll be es many of our folks thar es his'n. They'll be consortin' +tergither plum peaceable—twell ye walks inter ther room. Them Gregories +an' them Carrs air all armed. Hit's jest you an' Tom thet hain't. When +we comes inter ther place, Tom'll start down ther aisle to'rds ye—an' +you'll start up to'rds Tom." The speaker paused, and Asa prompted in a +low, restrained voice, though his face was chalky pale with smothered +emotion:</p> + +<p>"Go on! I'm hearkenin'."</p> + +<p>Saul shrugged his shoulders. "Wa'al, thet's all. Ye knows ther rest es +well es I does. Them fellers on both sides air trustin' their lives ter +ther two of ye. Ef you an' Tom shakes hands they'll all ride home quiet +as turtle-doves—an' take off th'ar coats ter beat this man fer +Governor. Ef you an' Tom <i>don't</i> shake hands—or ef one or t'other of ye +makes a single fightin' move, every gun under thet roof'll start poppin' +an ther place'll be a slaughter house. They all knows thet full well. +Ther lawyer knows hit, too—an' he's a'riskin' hit fer ther sake of his +party."</p> + +<p>The indicted man took a step forward. "Stand up hyar an' look me in ther +eyes," he commanded shortly, and, when Fulton rose, they stood, face to +face, so close that each could feel the breath of the other's lips.</p> + +<p>The steady brown eyes bored into the shiftier pupils of greenish-gray +with an implacable searching, and Asa's voice came in an uncompromising +hardness:</p> + +<p>"Saul, ye're askin' me ter trust ye right far. I hain't got nothin' but +yore word fer hit thet thar'll be airy man over thar at thet meetin' but +them thet seeks my life. This may be what ye says hit is or hit may be a +trap—but ye're a kinsman of mine, an' I've got a license ter believe +ye—oncet. Ef ye're lyin' ter me, ye're mighty apt ter hev ter pay fer +hit."</p> + +<p>"Ef I'm lyin' ter ye, Asa," came the prompt response, "I'm ready ter pay +fer hit."</p> + +<p>Gregory drew on his coarse socks and heavy shoes. "Alright," he acceded +curtly, "I'm a'goin' along with ye now, an' I reckon we'd better +hasten."</p> + +<p>"Don't go, Asa," pleaded Araminta. "Don't take no sich chanst." But as +her husband looked into her eyes she slowly nodded her head. "Ye're +right," she said falteringly. "I was jest skeered because I'm so +worrited. Of course ye've <i>got</i> ter go. Hit's fer yore country."</p> + +<p>When the door had closed the woman dropped limply into a chair. Her +pupils were distended and her fingers twisted in aimless gropings. After +a while she looked about a little wildly for Boone Wellver. It was +something to have his companionship during the hours of suspense—but +the boy's chair, too, was empty. His rifle was missing from its corner.</p> + +<p>She know now what had happened. Boone had slipped uninvited and secretly +out into the night. He had said nothing, but he meant to follow the pair +unseen, and if he found his hero threatened, there would be one armed +follower at his back.</p> + +<p>From the crib in one corner rose an uneasy whimper and Araminta went to +soothe her baby at her breast.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + + +<p>When Boone surreptitiously slipped out of the house he had plunged +recklessly into the thorn-tangle for a shorter cut than the two men +would take: a road of precipitous peril but of moments saved.</p> + +<p>If the possibility which Saul had admitted came to fruition and the guns +started popping, the peril lay not in the course of subsequent minutes +but at the pregnant instant when Asa Gregory's face was first seen in +the door. It would be in that breathing-space that the issue would find +settlement, and it would hang, hair-balanced, on the self-restraint of +two men whose hard-held hatred might break bounds and overwhelm them as +each thought of the father slain by violence. It would be a parlous +moment when their eyes, full of stored-up and long-curbed rancour, first +engaged and their hostile palms were required to meet and clasp.</p> + +<p>Young as he was, Boone understood these matters. He knew how the resolve +which each had undertaken might collapse into swift destruction as the +hot tides rushed into their temples. If their mutual concession of +manner was not balanced to exact nicety—if either Tom or Asa seemed to +hold back and throw upon the other the brunt of the difficult +conciliation by so much as a faltering stride—there would be +chaos—and Boone meant to be there in time.</p> + +<p>In this pocketed bit of wilderness, the incline had been built years +ago, and it had been a challenge to Nature's mandate of isolation.</p> + +<p>As the crow flew, the railroad that might afford an outlet to market was +not so many miles away, but it might as well have been ten times as +distant. Between lay a wall of hills interposing its grim prohibition +with a timbered cornice lifted twenty-five hundred feet towards the sky +and more than a day's journey separated those gaps where wheels could +scale and cross. Long ago local and visionary enthusiasts had built a +huge warehouse on a towering pinnacle with an incline of track dropping +dizzily down from it to the creek far below. Its crazy little cars had +been hauled up by a cable wound on a drum with the motive force of a +straining donkey-engine. But so ambitious an enterprise had not survived +the vicissitudes of hard times. Its simple machinery had rusted; its +tracks ran askew with decay upon their warped underpinning of teetering +struts.</p> + +<p>Now the warehouse stood dry-rotting and unkempt, its spaces regularly +tenanted only by the owl and bat. Through its unpatched roof one caught, +at night, the peep of stars and its hulking sides leaned under the +buffet of the winds which raced, screaming, around the shoulder of the +mountain.</p> + +<p>Towards this goal Boone was hurrying, forgetful now of any divided +standards of thought, thinking only of the kinsman whom his boyhood had +exalted with ardent hero-worship—and of that kinsman's danger. A +rowelling pressure of haste drove him, while snares of trailing +creepers, pitfalls blotted into darkness and the thickness of +jungle-like undergrowth handicapped him with many stubborn difficulties.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he fell and scrambled up again, bruised and growling but +undiscouraged. Sometimes he forsook even the steep grade of the foot +trail for shorter cut-offs where he pulled himself up semi-perpendicular +walls of cliff, trusting to a hand-grip on hanging root or branch and a +foothold on almost nothing.</p> + +<p>But when he was still a long way off he saw a pale flare against the sky +which he knew was a bonfire outside the warehouse, and by the +brightening of that beacon from pallor to crimson glow he measured his +progress.</p> + +<p>Inside the building itself another battle against time was being +fought: a battle to hold the attention of a crowd in the background of +whose minds lurked the distrait suspense of waiting for a graver climax +than that of oratorical peroration. About the interior blazed pine +torches and occasional lanterns with tin reflectors. Even this +unaccustomed effort at illumination failed to penetrate the obscurity of +the corners or to carry its ragged brightness aloft into the rafters. +Beyond the sooty formlessness of encroaching shadows one felt rather +than saw the walls, with their rifts through which gusty draught caused +the torches to flare and gutter, sending out the incense of their resin.</p> + +<p>Between the Circuit Judge, before whom Asa must face trial and the +County Judge, sat Basil Prince, the principal speaker of the evening, +and his quiet eyes were missing nothing of the mediaevalism of the +picture.</p> + +<p>Yet one might have inferred from his tranquillity of expression that he +had never addressed a gathering where the fitful glare of torches had +not shone upon repeating rifles and coon skin caps: where the faces had +not been set and grim as though keyed to an ordeal of fire and lead.</p> + +<p>He was noting how every fresh arrival hesitated near the door and +glanced about him. In that brief pause and scrutiny he recognized the +purport of a division, for as each newcomer stepped to the left or the +right of the centre aisle he thereby proclaimed himself a Carr or a +Gregory—taking shrewd thought of clan-mobilization. Then as a low drone +of talk went up from the body of the house and a restless shuffling of +feet, the speaker and his reception committee could not escape the +realization of an ugly tension; of an undertow of anxiety moving deep +beneath the surface affectation of calm. A precarious spirit brooded +there.</p> + +<p>The Circuit Judge leaned over toward Prince, whispering nervously +through a smile of courteous commonplace: "Maybe we've made a mistake to +attempt it, General. They seem dangerously restless and tight-strung, +and they've got to be so gripped that they'll forget everything but +your words for a spell!" The speaker, in his abstraction, relapsed +abruptly out of judicial dignity into mountain crudity of speech. "Hit's +ergoin' ter be like holdin' back a flood tide with a splash-dam. Thank +God ef any man kin do thet, I reckon hit's you."</p> + +<p>The Louisville lawyer nodded, "I'll try, sir," was his brief response.</p> + +<p>As the speaker of the moment dropped back, General Prince came to his +feet and with him rose the Circuit Judge who was to introduce him. That +prefatory address was brief, for the infection of restiveness was +spreading and loosely held interests were gravitating to mischief.</p> + +<p>Yet as General Prince stood quietly waiting, with his slender and +elderly figure straight poised and his fine face, for all its +intellectuality, remaining the steel-jawed face of a fighter, the +shuffling feet quieted and straying glances came to focus. There was a +commanding light in the unquailing eyes and these men who knew few +celebrities from the world without, knew both his name and his record. +They gazed steadfastly at him because, though he came now as a friend he +had in another day come as a foe, and the weight of his inimical hand +had come down to them through the mists of the past as word-of-mouth. In +the days of the war between the States, the mountains had thrust their +wedge of rock and granite-loyal Unionism through the vitals of +Confederate territory. While the mobility of the gray forces were balked +there to a heavy congestion, one command, bitterly hated and grudgingly +admired, had seemed capable of defying mountain ranges and of laughing +at torrents. Like a scathe that admitted no gainsaying, it came from +nowhere, struck, without warning, and was gone again unpunished. Its +name had been a metaphor for terror.</p> + +<p>Morgan's Men! That brilliant organization of partisan raiders who slept +in their saddles and smote Vulcan-like. The world knew of them and the +Cumberlands had felt their blows. General Basil Prince had been one of +their commanders. Now, a recognized authority on the use of cavalry, a +lawyer of distinction, a life-long Democrat, he stood before Republicans +pouring out the vials of his wrath upon the head of the man whom he +charged with having betrayed and disrupted his own party and with +attempting to yoke freedom into bondage.</p> + +<p>Faces bent forward with eyes lighting into an altered mood, and the +grimness which spelled danger relaxed grudgingly into attention.</p> + +<p>The speaker did not underestimate his task. It was not enough to play +the spell-binder for a definite period. He must unflaggingly hold them +vassals to his voice until the entrance of Asa Gregory gave him pause.</p> + +<p>Never had Basil Prince spoken with a more compelling force or a fierier +power of invective, and his voice had rung like a bugle for perhaps +three-quarters of an hour when in the shadowed darkness beyond the walls +the figure of a boy halted, heavily panting.</p> + +<p>Boone paused only for a little, testing the condition of his rifle's +breech and bolt, recovering his spent breath. Then he slipped nearer and +peered through the slit where a board had been broken away in the wall +itself. Within he saw figures bending forward and intent—and his brow +knit into furrows as he took in at a glance the division of the clans, +each to its separate side of the house. They had come, Saul said, to +bring peace out of dissension, but they had paradoxically arranged +themselves in readiness for conflict.</p> + +<p>Through a gaping door at the rear, of which he knew, and which lay as +invisible as a rent in a black curtain, because the shadows held +undisputed sway back there, the boy made a noiseless entrance. Up a +ladder, for the rungs of which he had to feel blindly, he climbed to a +perch on the cross-beams, under the eaves, and still he was as blanketed +from view as a bat in an unlighted cavern. The only dim ghost of glow +that went with him were two faint phosphorescent points where he had +rubbed the sights of his rifle with the moistened heads of matches.</p> + +<p>For the eloquence of the speaker, which would at another time have +enthralled him, he had now no thought, because lying flattened on a +great square-hewn timber, he was searching the crowd for the face of Tom +Carr.</p> + +<p>Soon he made it out below him, to his right, and slowly he trained his +rifle upon the breast beneath the face.</p> + +<p>That was all he had to do for the present—except to wait.</p> + +<p>When Asa came in, if matters went badly and if Tom made a motion to his +holster or a gesture to his minions, there would be one thing more, but +it involved only the crooking of a finger which snuggled ready in the +trigger-guard.</p> + +<p>The boy's muscles were badly cramped up there as the minutes lengthened +and multiplied. The timber was hard and the air chill, but he dared not +invite discovery by free movement.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly with a short and incisive sentence following on longer and +more rounded phrases, the speaker fell silent. Boone could not properly +appreciate the ready adroitness with which General Prince had clipped +his oratory short without the seeming of a marred effect. He only knew +that the voice spoke crisply and halted and that the speaker was +reaching out his hand, with matter-of-fact gesture, toward the gourd in +the water bucket on the table.</p> + +<p>Instantly the shuffling of feet grated its signal of an awakening +apprehension—an uneasiness which had been temporarily lulled. There was +an instant, after that, of dead hush, and then a twisting of necks as +all eyes went to the door.</p> + +<p>The men on each side of the house drew a little closer and more +compactly together, widening and emphasizing the line of the aisle +between; becoming two distinct crowds where there had been one, loosely +joined. Hands gestured instinctively toward guns laid by, and halted in +cautious abeyance. Through the cobwebbed spaciousness and breathless +quiet of the place sounded the ill-omened quaver of a barn owl.</p> + +<p>In the door stood Asa Gregory, his hands hanging at his sides with a +studied inertness as his eyes travelled slowly, appraisingly, about the +place. His attitude and expression alike were schooled into passiveness, +but as he saw another figure rise from just in front of the stage and +stand in momentary irresolution, the muscles of his jaw hardened and +into his eyes flashed a defiant gleam. His lids contracted to the +narrowness of slits, as though struggling to shut out some sudden and +insufferable glare. His chest heaved in a gasp-like breath and the hands +which he sought to keep hanging, slowly closed and clenched as muscles +tauten under an electric shock. Then, as if in obedience to impulses +beyond volition, the right hand came upward toward the left +armpit—where his pistol holster should have been.</p> + +<p>At the sight of his enemy rising there before him, Asa Gregory had seen +red, and the length of the aisle away, Tom Carr stood struggling with an +identical transport of reeling self-control. Like a reflection in a +mirror his face too blackened in sinister hatred and his hand too moved +toward the empty holster.</p> + +<p>The strained tableau held only for a breathing space, but it was long +enough for acceptance as a signal. It was long enough to afford the +orator of the evening a swift, photographic impression of flambeaux +giving back the glint of drawn pistols to right and left of the aisle; +of the ducking of timid heads; of a crowd holding a pose as tense and +ready as runners set on their marks—yet breathlessly awaiting the overt +signal.</p> + +<p>It was long enough, too, for Boone Wellver, crouched in the rafters, to +close one eye and sight his rifle on the back of Tom Carr—and to draw a +shallow breath of nerve-tension and resolution as his finger balanced +the trigger—a finger which sheer strain was perilously contracting.</p> + +<p>In that same instant Asa Gregory and Tom Carr were brought back to +themselves by the feel of emptiness where there should have been the +bulge of concealed weapons—and by all the resolution for which that +disarmament stood.</p> + +<p>With a convulsive bracing of his shoulders, Gregory relaxed again, +throwing out his arms wide of his body, and Carr echoed the peace +gesture.</p> + +<p>As his deep-held breath came with long exhalation from his chest, Asa +walked steadily down the aisle—while Tom Carr went to meet him half +way.</p> + +<p>Standing face to face, the two enemies lifted stubbornly unwilling hands +for the consummation of the peace-pact. Their palms touched and fell +swiftly apart as though each had been scorched. Their faces were the +stoic faces of two men undergoing a necessary torture. But the thing was +done and the rafters rocked with an uproar of applause.</p> + +<p>That clamour killed out a lesser sound, as the held breath in Boone +Wellver's chest hissed out between teeth that suddenly fell to +chattering. His body, for just a moment, shook so that he almost lost +his balance on his precarious perch, as the flexed emotions that had +keyed him to the point of homicide burst into relief like a released +spring ... and with shaken but careful fingers he let down the cocked +rifle hammer.</p> + +<p>Then with a voice of smooth and quieting satisfaction the orator from +Louisville raised his hands.</p> + +<p>"I've just seen a big thing done," he said, "and now I move that you +instruct your chairman to send a telegram of announcement to the next +Governor of Kentucky."</p> + +<p>He had to pause there until order could be restored out of a bedlam of +yelling, laughing and handshaking. When there was a possibility of being +heard again he held up a message which he had scribbled during that +noisy interval. "I move you that you say this to our standard-bearer: +'Here in the hills of Marlin we have laid aside feudism to rescue our +State from an even more dangerous thing. Here old enmities have been +buried in an alliance against tyranny.'"</p> + +<p>Boone had not recognized the face of Victor McCalloway in the audience, +because that gentleman had been sitting quietly back in the shadows with +the detachment of a looker-on among strangers, but now as the boy stood +outside the door, he saw the Scot shaking hands with the speaker of the +evening and heard him saying:</p> + +<p>"General Prince, it has long been my ambition to meet you, Sir. I have +soldiered a bit myself and I know your record. The committee has paid me +the honour of permitting me to play your host for the night."</p> + +<p>There was no moon and the heavens were like a high-hung curtain of +purple-black plush, spangled with the glitter of cold stars. A breeze +harping softly through the tree-tops carried a touch of frost, but Boone +Wellver sat on a rounded hump of rock, well back from the road, with +eyes that were wide and themselves starry under the spell of his +reflections.</p> + +<p>Since the coming of McCalloway Boone had been living in a world of +fantasy. He had been seeing himself as no longer an ignorant lad, +sleeping on a husk-pallet, in the cock-loft of a cabin, but as a +personality of greater majesty and spaciousness of being. Tonight he had +heard General Prince speak and under the fanning of oratory his +dream-fires were hotly aglow. As he sat on the rock with the soft +minstrelsy of the wind crooning overhead, a score of hearth-stone +recitals came back to memory; all saga-like stories of the prowess of +Morgan's men. It seemed that he could almost hear the strain of stirrup +leathers and the creak of cavalry-gear; the drum-beat of many hoofs.</p> + +<p>This great man who had ridden at the head of that command was even now +on his way to Victor McCalloway's house and there he would remain until +tomorrow morning. What marvellous stories those two veterans would +furnish forth from their own treasuries of reminiscence!</p> + +<p>Suddenly Boone rose with an abrupt but fixed resolve. "By Godelmighty!" +he exclaimed. "I reckon I'll jest kinderly sa'anter over thar and stay +all night, too. I'd love ter listen at 'em talk."</p> + +<p>Here in the hills where the very meagreness makes a law of hospitality +he had never heard of a traveller who asked a night's lodging being +turned away. Yet when he arrived and lifted his hand to knock he +hesitated for a space, gulping his heart out of his throat, suddenly +stricken with the enormity of intruding himself, unbidden, upon such +notable presences.</p> + +<p>Then the door swung open, and the boy found himself stammering with a +tongue that had become painfully and ineptly stiff:</p> + +<p>"I've done got belated on ther highway—an' I'm leg-weary," he +prevaricated. "I 'lowed mebby ye'd suffer me ter come in an' tarry till +mornin'."</p> + +<p>Over the preoccupation of McCalloway's face broke an amused smile, and +he stepped aside, waving his hand inward with a gesture of welcome.</p> + +<p>"General Prince, permit me to present my young friend, Boone Wellver," +he announced, stifling the twinkle of his eyes, and speaking with +ceremonial gravity. "He is a neighbour of mine—who tells me he has +dropped in for the night."</p> + +<p>The seated gentleman with the gray moustache and beard came to his feet, +extending his hand, and under the overwhelming innovation of such +courtesy, Boone was even more palpably and painfully abashed. But as +vaguely comprehended etiquette, he recognized its importance and +accordingly came forward with the stiffness of an automaton.</p> + +<p>"Howdy," he said with a stupendous solemnity. "I've done heerd tell of +ye right often, an' hit pleasures me ter strike hands with ye. Folks +says ye used ter be one of ther greatest horse-thievin' raiders that +ever drawed breath."</p> + +<p>When the roar of General Prince's laughter subsided—a laughter for +which Boone could see no reason, the boy drew a chair to the corner of +the hearth and sat as one may sit in the wings of a theatre, his breath +coming with the palpitation of simmering excitement. Soon the elders +seemed to have forgotten him in the heated absorption of their debate. +They were threshing over the campaigns of the war between the States and +measuring the calibre of commanders as a backwoods man might estimate +the girth and footage of timber.</p> + +<p>Boone nursed contented knees between locked fingers while the debate +waxed warm.</p> + +<p>Not only were battles refought there in retrospect, with such +illuminating vividness as seemed to dissolve the narrow walls into a +panoramic breadth of smoking, thunderous fields, but motive and intent +were developed back of the engagements.</p> + +<p>Boone in the chimney corner sat mouse-quiet. He seemed to be rapturously +floating through untried spaces on a magic carpet.</p> + +<p>McCalloway replenished the fire from time to time, and though midnight +came and passed, neither thought of sleep. It was as if men who had +dwelt long in civilian inertia, were wassailing deep again in the heady +wine of a martial past, and were not yet ready to set aside their +goblets of memory.</p> + +<p>The forgotten boy, electrically wakeful, huddled back, almost stifling +his breath lest he should be remembered and sent to bed.</p> + +<p>The speakers fell eventually into a silence which held long and was +complete save for the light hiss and crackle of the logs, until Basil +Prince's voice broke it with a low-pitched and musing interrogation. "I +sometimes wonder whether the chemistry of a great war today would bring +forth mightier or lesser reactions. Would the need call into evidence +men of giant stature? Have we, in our time, greater potential geniuses +than Grant and Lee?"</p> + +<p>McCalloway shook his head. "I question it," he declared. "I question it +most gravely. I am myself a retired soldier. I have met most of the +European commanders of my day, I have campaigned with not a few. Several +have demonstrated this or that element of greatness, but not one the +sheer pre-eminence of genius."</p> + +<p>"And yet—" General Prince rose abruptly from his chair, under the +impulse of his engrossed interest. "And yet, there was quite recently, +in the British Army, one figure that to my mind demonstrated true +genius, sir,—positive and undeniable genius. Tragedy claimed him before +his life rounded to fulfilment. Not the tragedy of the field—which is +rather gold than black—but the unholy and—I must believe—the +undeserved tragedy of unwarrantable slander. If General Hector Dinwiddie +had not died by his own hand in Paris, two years ago, he would have +compelled recognition—and history's grudging accolade. It is my belief, +sir, that he was of that mighty handful—the military masters."</p> + +<p>For a while, McCalloway offered neither assent nor denial. His eyes +held, as if by some hypnotic influence in the coals, were like those of +the crystal gazer who sees shadowy and troubling pictures, and even in +the hearth-flare the usually high-colour of his Celtic cheeks appeared +faded into a sort of parchment dulness. Such a tide of enthusiasm was +sweeping the other along, though, that his host's detachment and +taciturnity went unobserved.</p> + +<p>"Dinwiddie was not the man to have been guilty of those things, which +scandal whispered of him," persisted Prince, with such spirited +animation as might have characterized him had he been confronting a jury +box, summing up for the defence, "but he could not brook calumny." The +speaker paused to shake his head sadly, and added, "So he made the mad +mistake of self-destruction—and robbed Great Britain of her ablest and +most brilliant officer."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," McCalloway suggested in a speculative and far-away voice, +"perhaps he felt that his usefulness to his country was ended when his +name was dragged into the mire."</p> + +<p>"And in that he erred. Such a man would have emerged, clean-shriven, +from the smirching of slander. His detractors would have stood damned by +their own infamous falsity—had he only faced them out and given them +the lie."</p> + +<p>"Then you believe—in spite of the seemingly overpowering evidence which +they produced against him—that the charges <i>were</i> false?"</p> + +<p>McCalloway put the question slowly. "May I ask upon what you base your +opinion? You know all they said of him: personal dishonesty and even +ugly immorality?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + + +<p>The one-time cavalry leader caught up the challenge of the question.</p> + +<p>"Upon what do I base my opinion, sir? I base it upon all the experience +of my life and all my conceptions of personal honour. For such a man as +Dinwiddie had proven himself to be under a score of reliable tests, the +thing was a sheer impossibility. It was a contradiction in the terms of +nature. His was the soul of a Knight, sir! Such a man could not cheat +and steal and delight in low vices."</p> + +<p>"Yet," came the somewhat dubious observation, "even Arthur's table had +its caitiff knights, if you remember."</p> + +<p>The Kentuckian's exclamation was almost a snort. "Dinwiddie was no such +renegade," he protested. "At least I can't believe it. Glance at his +record, man! The son of an Edinburgh tradesman, who forced his way up +from the ranks to pre-eminence. He did it, too, in an army where caste +and birth defend their messes against invasion, and, as he came from the +ranks to a commission, so he went on to the head. There must have been a +greatness of soul there that could hardly care to wallow in +viciousness." As Prince paused, a spasm of emotion twitched the lips of +his host, and McCalloway's pipe died in fingers that clutched hard upon +its stem.</p> + +<p>But because McCalloway sat unmoving, making no comment of any sort, the +Kentuckian continued. It was as though he must have his argument +acknowledged.</p> + +<p>"I can see the tradesman's son, Sir Hector Dinwiddie, D.S.O., K.C.B., +Major General, Aide de Camp to the Queen, promising Britain another +glorious name—but as God in heaven is my judge, I cannot see him +soiling his character, or degrading the uniform he wore!"</p> + +<p>A moment of dead silence hung heavily between the walls of the room. +Boone Wellver saw Victor McCalloway pass an uncertain hand across his +eyes, and move his lips without speech, and then he heard Prince demand +almost impatiently,</p> + +<p>"But you say you have served in the British Army. Surely you do not +believe that he was guilty?"</p> + +<p>McCalloway, called out of his detached quiet by a direct question, +raised his head and nodded it in a fashion of heavy inertia.</p> + +<p>"General Prince," he replied with an effort, "there are two reasons why +I should be the last man alive to add a syllable of corroboration to the +evil things that were said of Dinwiddie. I myself have been a soldier +and am a civilian. You may guess that a man whose career has been active +would not be living the petty life of a hermit if fortune had dealt +kindly with him. The officer who has suffered from a warrantless +disgrace—which he cannot disprove—is hardly the judge to condemn +another similarly charged.</p> + +<p>"That, sir, is one reason why I should not contradict your view."</p> + +<p>McCalloway rose slowly from his chair and, after standing for a moment +with shoulders that drooped from their military erectness, went with an +inelastic step to the corner of the room and came back, carrying a +sword.</p> + +<p>"There is also another reason based on personal partiality," he added. +"I knew him so well that after the world heard of his suicide—and after +my own misfortunes forced me into retirement, I might often have hired +my sword because of my familiarity with his military thought."</p> + +<p>Boone Wellver saw the throat work spasmodically, and wondered what it +all meant as the carefully schooled words went on again, with a gauged +steadiness.</p> + +<p>"I have admired your own record, General Prince. I owe you frankness, +but I have chapters in my life which I cannot confide to you. +Nevertheless, I am glad we have met. Look at that blade." He held out +the sword. In the leap and flicker of the firelight Boone could catch +the glint of a hilt that sent out the sparkle of jewelry and inlaid +enamel. Slowly General Prince slid the sabre from the scabbard, and bent +forward, studying an inscription upon the damascened steel itself. For a +moment he held it reverently before him, then straightened up and his +voice trembled with a note of mystified wonderment.</p> + +<p>"But this—" he said incredulously, "this is Dinwiddie's +sabre—presented by—"</p> + +<p>McCalloway smiled stiffly, but he held up a hand as if entreating +silence.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> his sword," he answered, but dully and without ardour, "and, if +it means anything to you—he knew the facts of my own life, both the +open and the hidden—and he trusted me enough to leave that blade in my +keeping."</p> + +<p>"To me, you required no recommendation, sir," said Basil Prince slowly. +"If you <i>had</i> needed it, this would be sufficient. You had the +confidence, even the love it seems, of the greatest military genius of +our age."</p> + +<p>On the following morning, Boone made his farewells, reluctantly as one +who has glimpsed magic and who sets his face again to dull realities.</p> + +<p>The Southerner, who had laid down his sword when its cause was lost and +the Celt who had sheathed his, when his name was tarnished, stood +together in the crystal-clear air of the heights, looking down from a +summit over crags and valleys that sparkled with the rime of frost.</p> + +<p>Undulating like a succession of arrested waves, were the ramparts of the +ridges stretching into immeasurable distances. They were almost leafless +now, but they wrapped themselves in colour tones that touched them into +purple and blue. They wore atmospheric veils, mist-woven, and sun-dyed +into evanescent and delicate effects of colour, but the cardinal note +which lay upon them, as an expression rests upon a human face, was +their declaration of wildness; their primitive note of brooding +aloofness.</p> + +<p>"They are unchanged," declared General Prince in a low voice. "The west +has gone under the plough. The prairies are fenced. Alaska even is +won—. These hills alone stand unamended. Here at the very heart of our +civilization is the last frontier, and the last home of the +trail-blazer." His eyes glistened as he pointed to a wisp of smoke that +rose in a cove far under them, straight and blue from its clay-daubed +chimney.</p> + +<p>"There burns the hearth fire of our contemporary ancestors, the stranded +wagon voyagers who have changed no whit from the pioneers of two hundred +years ago."</p> + +<p>Victor McCalloway nodded gravely, and his companion went on.</p> + +<p>"With one exception this range was the first to which the earth, in the +travail of her youth, gave birth. Compared with the Appalachians, the +Himalayas and the Alps are young things, new to life. On either side of +where we stand a youthful civilization has grown up, but these ridges +have frowned on, unaltered. Their people still live two centuries behind +us."</p> + +<p>McCalloway swept out his hands in a comprehensive gesture.</p> + +<p>"When you leave this spot, sir, for your return, you travel not only +some two hundred miles, but also from the infancy of Americanism to its +present big-boyhood. Pardon me, if that term seems disrespectful," he +hastened to add. "But it is so that I always think of your nation, as +the big growing lad of the world family. Titanically strong, +astonishingly vigorous of resource, but, as yet, hardly adult."</p> + +<p>The Kentuckian, standing spare and erect, typical of that old South +which has caught step with the present, yet which has not outgrown the +gracious touch of a more courtly past, smiled thoughtfully while his +younger companion, who had known the life of court and camp, in the +elder hemisphere, puffed at his blackened pipe: "Adult or adolescent, we +are altering fast, casting aside today the garments of yesterday," +admitted Prince. "In my own youth a gentleman felt the call of honour to +meet his personal enemy on the duelling field. I have, myself, answered +that call. In my young manhood I donned the gray, with a crusader's +ardent sincerity, to fight for the institution of human slavery. Today +we think in different terms."</p> + +<p>Upon them both had fallen a mood; the mood of gazing far backward and +perhaps also of adventuring as far forward in the forecasting of human +transition.</p> + +<p>Such a spirit may come to men who have, in effect, stepped aside from +the march of their own day, into an elder régime—a pioneer setting.</p> + +<p>To Basil Prince, in the fore-shortening of retrospect, all the gradual +amendments of life, as he had known them in their enactment, stood forth +at once in a gigantic composition of contrasts; heroically pictured on a +single canvas.</p> + +<p>"Now," he reflected, "we hear the younger generation speak with a +pitying indulgence of the archaic stodginess of mid-Victorian +ideas—and, my God, sir, that was all only yesterday, and this +mid-Victorian thought was revolutionary in its newness and its +advancement! I can remember when it startled the world: when Tennyson +was accounted a wild radical, and Darwin a voice savouring strongly of +heresy."</p> + +<p>McCalloway filled a fresh pipe. He sent out a cloud of tobacco smoke and +set back his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"In my belief, your radical poet said one true thing at least," he +observed.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"... I doubt not through the ages, one increasing purpose runs.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"That purpose lies towards the swallowing of the local, and the +individualistic, the national even into the international. It lies +toward the broadest federation of ideals that can exist in harmony." He +paused there, and in the voice of one expecting contradiction, added: +"And that end will not be attained in parliaments, but on the +battlefield."</p> + +<p>"The creed of Americanism," Prince reminded him, "rests on the pillars +of non-interference with other states and of a minimum of meddling among +our own."</p> + +<p>"So far, yes," admitted the Scot, but his eyes held a stubborn light of +argument. "Yet I predict that when the whole story of Americanism is +written, it will be cast to a broader plot."</p> + +<p>On General Prince's lips flickered a quiet smile.</p> + +<p>"Is there a broader thing than independence?" he inquired, and the +answer came back with a quick uptake.</p> + +<p>"At least a bigger thing, sir. Breadth is only one dimension, after all. +A larger concept, perhaps, comes by adding one syllable to your word and +making it interdependence. Inexorably you must follow the human cycle +and some day, sir, your country must stand with its elder brethren, +grappled in the last crusade. Then only will the word Americanism be +completely spelled."</p> + +<p>The Kentuckian's eyes kindled responsively to the animation of his +companion's words, his manner. It was a phase of this interesting man +that he had not before seen, but his own response was gravely calm,</p> + +<p>"I am thinking," he said whimsically, "that this wine-like air has gone +to our heads. We are standing in a high place, dreaming large dreams."</p> + +<p>The Scot nodded energetically.</p> + +<p>"I dare say," he acceded. "After all a hermit is thrown back on dreaming +for want of action." He broke off and when he spoke again it was with a +trace of embarrassment, almost of shyness which brought a flush to his +cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I've been living here close to the life that was the infancy of your +nation, and I've been imagining the wonder of a life that could start +as did that of these hardy settlers and pass, in a single generation, +along the stages that the country, itself, has marched to this day. It +would mean birth in pioneer strength and simplicity, and fulfilment in +the present and future. It would mean ten years lived in one!"</p> + +<p>"It would have had to begin two centuries ago," Prince reminded him, +"and to run, who can say, how far forward?"</p> + +<p>Half diffidently, half stubbornly, McCalloway shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You saw that boy last night who called you a 'great horse-thievin' +raider'?" The gray eyes twinkled with reminiscence. "In every essential +respect he is a lad of two hundred years ago. He is a pioneer boy, crude +as pig-iron, unlettered and half barbaric. Yet his stuff is the raw +material of which your people is made. It needs only fire, water, oil +and work to convert pig-iron into tempered steel."</p> + +<p>Prince looked into his companion's eyes and found them serious.</p> + +<p>"You mean to try," he sceptically inquired, "to make the complete +American out of that lad in whose veins flows the blood of the +vendetta?"</p> + +<p>"I told you that we hermits were dreamers," answered McCalloway. "I've +never had a son of my own. I think it would be a pretty experiment, sir, +to see how far this young back-woodsman could go."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Strange indeed would have seemed to any prying eye the occurrences +within the walls of McCalloway's cabin on those many evenings which +Boone Wellver spent there. But of what took place the boy breathed no +word, despite the almost feverish eagerness that glowed constantly in +his blue eyes. His natural taciturnity would have sealed his lips had he +given the "furriner" no pledge of confidence, and even McCalloway never +guessed how strict was the censorship of that promise as Boone +construed its meaning. Inasmuch as he could not be sure just what +details, out of the summary of their conversations, fell under the +restrictive ban, he set upon the whole association a seal of Masonic +silence. And Victor McCalloway, recognizing that dependable discretion, +talked with a freedom which he would have permitted himself with few +other companions.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he read aloud from books whose pages were, to the young +listener, gates swinging open upon gilded glimpses of chivalry, heroism +and those thoughts which are not groundling but winged and splendid. +Sometimes through the hills where the distances shimmered with an ashen +ghost of brilliance, they tramped together, a peripatetic philosopher +and his devoted disciple.</p> + +<p>But strangest and most fantastical of all, were the hours they spent +before McCalloway's hearth when the man threw off his coat and rolled +his sleeves high over scarred forearms while the boy's eyes sparkled +with anticipation. And at outside mention of these sessions, McCalloway +himself might have reddened to the cheekbones, for then it was that the +man produced improvised wooden swords and placed himself, feet wide +apart and left hand elevated in the attitude of the fencer's salute. +Facing him was a solemn, burning-eyed pupil and adversary of fifteen in +a linsey-woolsey shirt and jeans overalls. The lad with his freckled +face and his red-brown shock of hair made an absurd contrast with the +gentleman whose sword play possessed the exquisite grace and deft +elegance of a Parisian fencing master—but Boone had the astonishing +swiftness of a panther cub, and a lightning play of wrist and agility of +limb. How rapidly he was gaining mastery over his foil he could not, +himself, realize because standing over against him was one of the best +swords of Europe, but this enthusiasm, which was a very passion to +learn, was also a thing of which he never spoke outside.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + + +<p>With winter came desolation. The sumac no longer flared vermilion and +the flaming torches of the maples were quenched.</p> + +<p>Roads were quagmires where travellers slipped and laboured through +viscid mud and over icy fords. The hills were scowling ranks of slate +gray. A tarnished sun paraded murky skies from its pallid dawn to its +setting in a bed of inflamed and angry clouds.</p> + +<p>And as the sullen spirit of winter came to this isolation, another +spirit came with it—equally grim.</p> + +<p>The campaign had progressed with torrential bitterness to its inevitable +culmination. Exhausted invective had, like a jaded thing, sought greater +lengths—when already the superlative was reached. Each side shrieked +loud and blatant warnings of an attempt at rape upon the ballot. There +was irresponsible talk of the freeman's final recourse to arms and of +blood-letting in the name of liberty. At last had come the day of +election itself with howls of fraud and claims of victory ringing from +both camps: then a lull, like that in which two bleeding and exhausted +dogs draw off from the clamp of locked jaws to pant at each other with +weltering fangs and blood-shot eyes.</p> + +<p>As Saul Fulton had predicted, the gaze of the State turned anxiously to +the hills. There, remote and slow to give its election returns, lay the +Eleventh Congressional District with all its counties solidly +Republican. Already the margin was recognized as narrow enough, perhaps, +to hinge on the "Bloody Eleventh." While the State waited, the Democrats +asseverated that the "Bloody Eleventh" was marking time, awaiting a +response to the query it had wired to its state headquarters:</p> + +<p>"How much do you need?"</p> + +<p>Those were days of tension and rumblings in the craters, and one day the +rumour was born that the vote of Marlin County was to be counted out.</p> + +<p>In an hour after that whisper mysteriously originated, thirty horsemen +were riding faster than road conditions warranted, by every crooked +creek-bed and trail that debouched from the county seat. They made light +of quicksand and flooded ford. They laughed at shelving precipice +brinks. Each of them shouted inflammatory words at every cabin and +dwelling house along his way; each of them kindled signal fires atop the +ridges, and when the first pallid light of dawn crept into the fog reek +of the hillsides an army was on the march to Marlin Town.</p> + +<p>That evening, in a grimly beleaguered court house, the commissioners +certified the ballots as cast, and the cloud of black hats melted as +quietly as it had formed.</p> + +<p>In the state courts, on points of legal technicality, with mandamus and +injunction, the fight went on bitterly and slowly. The narrow margin +fluctuated: the outcome wavered.</p> + +<p>When Saul Fulton returned to his birthplace in December, his face was +sinister with forebodings. But his object in coming was not ostensibly +political. He meant to drive down, from the creeks and valleys of Marlin +County, a herd of cattle collected from scattered sources for marketing +in the bluegrass. It was an undertaking that a man could hardly manage +single handed, and since a boy would work for small wages he offered to +make Boone his assistant. To Boone, who had never seen a metalled road, +it meant adventuring forth into the world of his dreams.</p> + +<p>He would see the theatre where this stupendous political war was being +waged—he would be only a few miles from the state capitol itself, where +these two men, each of whom called himself the Governor of Kentucky, +pulled the wires, directed the forces and shifted the pawns.</p> + +<p>Victor McCalloway smiled when Boone told him, in a voice shaken with +emotion, that the day had come when he could go out and see the world.</p> + +<p>Boone and Saul slept, that night, in a mining town with the glare of +coke furnaces biting red holes through the surrounding blackness of the +ridges.</p> + +<p>To Boone Wellver, this journey was as full of mystifying and alluringly +colourful events as a mandarin's cloak is crusted with the richness of +embroidery. Save for his ingrained sense of a man's obligation to +maintain always an incurious dignity, he would have looked through +widened eyes of amazement from the first miles of his travelling. When +the broken raggedness of peaks began to flatten toward the billowing +bluegrass, his wonder grew. There at home the world stood erect and +lofty. Here it seemed to lie prone. The very air tasted flat in his +nostrils and, missing the screens of forested peaks, he felt a painful +want of privacy—like a turtle deprived of its shell, or a man suddenly +stripped naked.</p> + +<p>Upon his ears a thousand sounds seemed to beat in tumult—and +dissonance. Men no longer walked with a soundless footfall, or spoke in +lowered voices.</p> + +<p>In the county seat to which they brought their gaunt cattle, his +bewilderment mounted almost to vertigo, for about the court house square +were congregated men and beasts—all unfamiliar to the standards of his +experience.</p> + +<p>The native beef here was fat, corn-fed stock, and the hogs were rounder +and squatter than the mast-nourished razor-backs he had known at home. +The men, too, who bought and sold them, were fuller nourished and fuller +voiced. It was as if they never whispered and had never had to talk in +soft caution. Upon himself from time to time he felt amused glances, as +though he, like his bony steers, stood branded to the eye with the +ineradicable mark of something strayed in from a land of poverty.</p> + +<p>But when eventually the cattle had been sold, Saul took him on to the +capitol of the State, and there, on the twelfth of December, he stood, +with a heart that hammered his ribs, in a great crowd before the state +house and gazed up at the platform upon which the choice of his own +people was being inaugurated as Governor.</p> + +<p>Boone was dazzled by the gold-laced uniforms of all the colonels on the +retiring executive's staff, and as he turned away, in the amber light of +the winter afternoon, his soul was all but satiated with the heady +intoxication of full living.</p> + +<p>On a brilliantly frosted morning, when the weed stalks by the roadside +were crystal-rimmed, and the sky was an illimitable arch of blue +sparkle, he trudged at Saul's side along a white turnpike between smooth +stone walls and well-kept fences. Yet for all his enthusiasm of +admiration, a new sense of misgiving and vague trouble began to settle +heavily at his heart.</p> + +<p>No one, along the way, halted to "meet an' make their manners." +Vehicles, drawn by horses that lifted their hocks and knees high, passed +swiftly and without greeting. The threadbare poorness of his clothes, a +thing of which he had never before been conscious, now uncomfortably +obtruded itself upon realization. At home, where every man was poor, +there had been no sense of inferiority, but here was a régime of +disquieting contrasts.</p> + +<p>When they at last turned through a gate with stone pillars, he caught +sight of a long maple and oak-flanked avenue, and at its end a great +brick house. Against the age-tempered façade stood out the trim of white +paint and the dignity of tall, fluted columns. He marvelled that Saul +Fulton had been able in so short a time to buy himself such a palace.</p> + +<p>But while he still mulled over his wonderment in silence, Saul led him +by a detour around the mansion and its ivory-white out-buildings, and +continued through back pastures and fields, disfigured by black and +sharp tobacco stubble. Boone followed past fodder-racks and pig-sties, +until they brought up at a square, two-roomed house with blank, +unpainted walls, set in a small yard as barren as those of the hills, +but unrelieved by any background of laurel or forest. About this +untempered starkness of habitation stretched empty fields, snow-patched +and desolate, and the boy's face dropped as he heard his kinsman's +announcement, "This hyar's whar I dwells at."</p> + +<p>"Who—who dwells over yon at t'other house?" came Boone's rather timid +query. "Ther huge brick one, with them big white poles runnin' up in +front."</p> + +<p>Saul laughed with a rasping note in his voice, "Hit b'longs ter Colonel +Tom Wallifarro, ther lawyer, but he don't dwell thar hisself, save only +now an' then."</p> + +<p>Fulton paused, and his face took on the unpleasant churlishness of class +hatred. "Ther whole kit and kaboodle of 'em will be hyar soon, though. +They all comes back fer Christmas, an' holds dancin' parties, and +carousin's, damn 'em!"</p> + +<p>A seriously puzzled expression clouded the boy's eyes, and he asked +simply, "Hain't ye friendly with 'em, Saul?"</p> + +<p>"No," was the short rejoinder, "I hain't friendly with no rich lowlander +that holds scorn fer an honest man jest because he's poor."</p> + +<p>On subsequent occasions when Boone passed the "great house" it seemed +almost as quiet as though it were totally untenanted, but with the +approach of Christmas it awoke from its sleep of inactivity.</p> + +<p>The young mountaineer was trudging along one day through a gracious +woodland, which even, in the starkness of winter, hinted at the nobility +that summer leafage must give to its parklike spaces. His way carried +him close to the paddocks flanking the ample barns, and he could see +that the house windows were ruddy from inner hearth fires, and decked +with holly wreaths.</p> + +<p>In the paddocks themselves were a dozen persons, all opulent of seeming, +and what interested the passer-by, even more than the people, were the +high-headed, gingerly stepping horses that were being led out by negro +boys for their inspection.</p> + +<p>In the group Boone recognized the man whom Asa had identified that day +in Marlin as Mr. Masters, a "mine boss," and the gentleman who had come +with him out of the mountain hotel. The boy surmised that this latter +must be Colonel Tom Wallifarro himself, the owner of all these acres.</p> + +<p>There was a small girl too, whom Masters called "daughter." Boone had +for girls the fine disdain of his age, and this one he guessed to be +some four or five years younger than himself. But she was unlike any +other he had ever seen, and it puzzled him that so much attention should +be squandered on a "gal-child," though he acknowledged to himself—"but +she's plum purty." He went by with a casual glance and a high chin, but +in his brain whirled many puzzling thoughts, springing from a first +glimpse of wealth.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + + +<p>It was Christmas eve night, and General Basil Prince, who had hurriedly +changed to evening dress after his arrival by a late train, halted for a +moment at the stairhead to look down. On his distinguished face played a +quiet smile. In these rapidly changing times, pride of lineage and +deference for tradition were things less openly voiced than in other +days which he could remember.</p> + +<p>Probably that was as it should be, he reflected, yet an elderly fellow +might enjoy the fragrance of old lavender or the bouquet of memory's +vintage.</p> + +<p>When he came here to the country house of his friend Wallifarro, it +seemed to him that he stepped back into those days when gracious +ceremonies held and dancers trod the measured figures of the minuet.</p> + +<p>He wondered if in many places one could find just such another coterie +of intimates as the little group of older men who gathered here: men who +had been boyhood comrades in the Orphan Brigade, or Morgan's Cavalry: +men who had, since the reconstruction, distinguished themselves in +civilian life, weaving into a new pattern the regathered threads of +fortune.</p> + +<p>Gazing down upon the broad hall, with the parquetry of its floors +cleared for dancing, Basil Prince warmed to a glow of pride in these +people who were his people. Aristocracies had risen and tottered since +history had kept its score, but here, surviving all change, remained a +simple graciousness, and a stamina of great heartedness like that which +royal breeding had instilled into those satin-coated horses out there in +their barns; steadfastness of courage and a high spirit.</p> + +<p>Holly and mistletoe festooned the doorways, logs roared on brass +andirons, and silver-sconced candles glowed against an ivory softness of +white wainscoting and the waxed darkness of mahogany. He loved it all; +the simple uncrowded elegance; the chaste designs of silver, upon which +the tempered lights found rebirth; the ripe age of the family portraits. +It stood for a worthy part of America—a culture that had ripened in the +early wilderness.</p> + +<p>Morgan Wallifarro was home from Harvard for his first vacation, and as +General Prince eyed the boy his brows puckered in the momentary ghost of +a frown. This lad, alone of all the young folk in the laughing groups, +struck him as one to whom he could not accord an unreserved approval—as +one whose dress and manner grated ever so slightly with their marring +suspicion of pose. But this, he told himself, was only the conceit of +extreme youth. Morgan was named for his old chieftain of the partisan +cavalry. He was Tom Wallifarro's boy, and if there was anything in blood +he must ultimately develop into worthiness.</p> + +<p>"He's the best stock in the world," mused the General. "He's like a +fractious colt just now—but when he's had a bit of gruelling, he'll run +true to form."</p> + +<p>The fiddles swung into a Sousa march, and couples drifted out upon the +floor. General Prince stood against the wall, teasing and delighting a +small girl with short skirts and beribboned hair. It was Anne Masters, +that bewitching child who in a few years more would have little leisure +for gray-heads when the violins sang to waltz-time.</p> + +<p>The music ran its course and stopped, as all music must, and the couples +stood encoring. Some one, flushed with dancing, threw open the front +door, and a chilly gust swept in from the night. Then quite suddenly +General Prince heard Morgan Wallifarro's laugh break out over the hum of +conversation.</p> + +<p>"Well, in Heaven's name," satirically inquired that young gentleman, +"what have we here?"</p> + +<p>It was a strange picture for such a framing, yet into the eyes of +General Prince flashed a quick indignant light and under his breath he +muttered, "That young cub, Morgan! He disappoints me."</p> + +<p>Seen across the sparkling shoulders and the filmy party gowns of the +girls, beyond the black and white of the men's evening dress, was the +parallelogram of the wide entrance-door, and centred on its threshold, +against the night-curtain, bulked a figure which hesitated there in +momentary indecision and grotesque inappropriateness.</p> + +<p>It was a boy, whose long mop of red-brown hair was untrimmed and whose +eyes were just now dazzled by the unaccustomed light and sparkle upon +which they looked. His shirt was of blue cotton, his clothes patched and +shoddy, but under a battery of amused glances he sensed a spirit of +ridicule and stiffened like a ramrod. A drifting peal of laughter from +somewhere brought his chin up, and a red tide flooded into his cheeks. +The soft and dusty hat which he clasped in his hand was crumpled under +the pressure of his tightening fingers.</p> + +<p>Then Boone Wellver's voice carried audibly over the hall and into the +rooms at the side.</p> + +<p>"I heered tell thet thar war a dancin' party goin' forward hyar," he +announced simply, "an' I 'lowed I'd jest as lieve as not fare over fer a +spell."</p> + +<p>Boone had intended no comedy effect. He spoke in decorous gravity, and +he knew of no reason why an outburst of laughter should sweep the place +as he finished. Prince caught an unidentified voice from his back. It +was low pitched, but it fell on the silence that succeeded the laugh, +and he feared that the boy must have caught it too.</p> + +<p>"One of the tobacco-yaps from the back of the place, I expect."</p> + +<p>At once General Prince stepped forward and laid his hand on Boone's +shoulder. Under his palm he felt a tremor of anger and hurt pride, and +he spoke clearly.</p> + +<p>"This young gentleman," he said—and though his eyes were twinkling with +a whimsical light, his voice carried entire and calculated gravity—"is +a friend of mine, Mr. Boone Wellver of Marlin County. I've enjoyed the +hospitality of his people." There was a puzzled pause, and the General, +whose standing here was as secure as that of Petronius at Nero's court, +continued.</p> + +<p>"In the mountains when a party is given no invitations are issued. Word +simply goes out as to time and location, and whoever cares to +come—comes."</p> + +<p>The explanation was meant for those inside, but the boy in the doorway +caught from it a clarifying of matters for his own understanding as +well. Obviously here one did <i>not</i> come without being bidden, and that +left him in the mortifying attitude of a trespasser. It came with a +flash of realization and chagrin.</p> + +<p>He yearned to blot himself into the kindly void of the night behind +him—yet that rude type of dignity which was bred in him forbade the +humiliation of unexplained flight. Such a course would indeed stamp him +as a "yap," and however shaggy and unkempt his appearance might be in +this ensemble of silk and broadcloth he was as proud as Lucifer.</p> + +<p>Heretofore a "dancing-party" had meant to him, shuffling brogans where +shadows leaped with firelight and strings of fiddle and "dulcimore" +quavered out the strains of "Turkey-in-the-straw" or "I've got a gal at +the head of the hollow."</p> + +<p>He had expected this to be different, but not <i>so</i> different, and he had +need to blink back tears of shame.</p> + +<p>But, all the more for that, he drew himself straight and stiff and spoke +resolutely, though his voice carried the suspicion of a tremor.</p> + +<p>"I fear me I've done made a fool mistake an' I reckon I'll say farewell +ter you-all, now."</p> + +<p>Even then he did not wheel precipitately, under the urge of his anxiety +to be gone, but paused with a forced deliberation, and, as he tarried, +little Anne Masters stepped impulsively forward.</p> + +<p>Anne had reigned with a captivating absolutism from her cradle on. Swift +impulses and ready sympathies governed much of her conduct, and they +governed her now.</p> + +<p>"This is <i>my</i> party," she declared. "Uncle Tom told me so at dinner, and +I specially invite you to come in." She spoke with the haste of one +wishing to forestall the possible thwarting of elderly objection, and +ended with a dancing-school curtsey before the boy in hodden gray. Then +the music started up again, and she added, "If you like, I'll give you +this waltz."</p> + +<p>But Boone Wellver only shifted from one uneasy foot to the other, +fingering his hat brim and blinking owlishly. "I'm obleeged ter ye," he +stammered with a sudden access of awkwardness, "but I hain't never run a +set in my life. My folks don't hold hit ter be godly. I jest came ter +kinderly look on."</p> + +<p>"Anne, dear," translated Basil Prince, "in the mountains they know only +the square dances. Isn't that correct?" The boy nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"Thet's what I aimed ter say," he corroborated. "An' I'm beholden ter +ye, little gal, none-the-less."</p> + +<p>"And now, come with me, Boone," suggested the old soldier, +diplomatically steering the unbidden guest across the hall and into the +library where over their cigars and their politics sat the circle of +devoted veterans.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tom Wallifarro was standing before the fire with his hands +clasped at his back. "I had hoped against hope," he was indignantly +asserting, "that when the man's own hand-made triumvirate denied him +endorsement, he would end his reign of terror and acknowledge defeat."</p> + +<p>"A knowledge of the candidate should have sufficed to refute that idea," +came the musical voice of a gentleman, whose snow-white hair was like a +shock of spun silver.</p> + +<p>"I was in Frankfort some days ago when Mr. Goebel sat there in +conference with his favoured lieutenants. It was reported that he +declared himself indifferent as to the outcome, but that he would abide +by the decision of his party whips. The reporters were besieging those +closed doors, and at the end you all know what verdict went over the +wires: 'Being a loyal Democrat I shall obey the mandate of my party—and +make a contest before the legislature for the office of governor, to +which I was legally elected.'"</p> + +<p>Just then Basil Prince came forward, leading his protégé. Possibly a +wink passed over Boone Wellver's head. At all events the circle of +gentlemen rose and shook hands as sedately as though they had been +awaiting him—and Boone, hearing the titles, colonel, senator, governor, +was enthralled beyond measure.</p> + +<p>A half hour later, Morgan Wallifarro burst tempestuously in, carrying a +large package, and wearing an expression of excited enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"General," he exclaimed, "I have disobeyed orders and opened one +Christmas gift before tomorrow. I suspected what it was, sir—and I +couldn't wait."</p> + +<p>Forgetful of the pretty girls in the rooms beyond, he ripped open the +parcel and laid on the centre table a pair of beautifully chased and +engraved fencing foils, and the masks that went with them.</p> + +<p>"I simply had to come in and thank you at once, sir," he added +delightedly. "Father, bend that blade and feel the temper! Look at the +engraving too! My monogram is on the guard."</p> + +<p>While his elders looked indulgently on, the lad made a pass or two at an +imagined adversary, and then he laughed again.</p> + +<p>"By George, I wish I had one of the fencing-class fellows here now."</p> + +<p>Boone bent forward in his chair, his eyes eagerly fixed on the +glittering beauty of the slender, rubber-tipped blades. His lips parted +to speak, but closed again without sound, while Morgan lunged and +parried at nothing on the hearth-rug. "'We're the cadets of Gascogny,'" +the son of the house quoted lightly. "'At the envoy's end I touch.'" +Then regretfully he added, "I wish there was some one to have a go with. +Are there any challengers, gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>The boy in hodden-gray slipped from his chair.</p> + +<p>"I reckon ef ye're honin' fer a little sward-fightin' I'll aim ter +convenience ye," he quietly invited.</p> + +<p>For an instant Morgan gazed at him in silence. Without discourtesy, it +was difficult to reply to such an absurd invitation, and even the older +men felt their reserve of dignity taxed with the repression of mirth as +they contemplated the volunteer.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," apologized Morgan, when the silence had become oppressive, +"but these foils are delicate things. For all their temper, they snap +like glass in hands that aren't accustomed to them. It takes a bit of +practice, you see."</p> + +<p>The note of condescension stung Boone painfully and his eyes narrowed. +"All right. Hev hit yore own way," he replied curtly. "I thought ye +wanted some sward-practice."</p> + +<p>With a sudden flash of memory there came back to Basil Prince's mind the +picture of Victor McCalloway's cabin and Dinwiddie's sword—and, with +the memory, an idea. "Morgan," he suavely suggested, "your challenge was +general, as I understood it, and I don't see how you can gracefully +decline. If a blade breaks, I'll see that it's replaced."</p> + +<p>The young college man could hesitate no longer, though he felt that he +was being forced into a ludicrous position, as he bowed his unwilling +acquiescence.</p> + +<p>But when the two adversaries took their places where the furniture had +been hastily cleared away, the men widened their eyes and bent forward +absorbed. The mountain lad had suddenly shed his grotesqueness. He +dropped his blade and lifted it in salute, not like a bumpkin but with +the finished grace of familiarity—the sweeping confidence of perfect +ease. As he stepped back, saying "On guard," his left hand came up at +balance and his poise was as light as though he had been reared in the +classroom of a fencing-school.</p> + +<p>Morgan went into that contest with the disadvantage of utter +astonishment. He had received some expensive instruction and was on the +way toward becoming a skilled hand with the rapier, but the "tobacco +yap" had been schooled by one of the first swords of Europe.</p> + +<p>At the first sharp ring of steel on steel one or two persons +materialized in the library door, and they were speedily augmented by +fresh arrivals, until the circle of bare-shouldered girls and attendant +cavaliers pressed close on the area of combat. Backward and forward, +warily circling with a delicate and musical clatter of engaging steel +between them, went the lad in broadcloth and the boy in homespun.</p> + +<p>It was, at best, unequal, but Morgan gave the most that he had, and +against a lesser skill he would have acquitted himself with credit.</p> + +<p>After a little there came a lunge, a hilt pressed to lower blade, a +swift twist of a wrist, and young Wallifarro's foil flew clear of his +hand and clattered to the floor. He had been cleanly disarmed.</p> + +<p>Boone drew the mask from his tousled head and shuffled his feet. That +awkwardness which had been so absent from his moments of action +descended upon him afresh as he awoke to the many watching eyes. Morgan +held out a hand, which was diffidently received, and acknowledged +frankly, "You're much the better man—but where in Heaven's name did you +learn to fence like that?"</p> + +<p>The mountain boy flushed, suddenly realizing that this too was a matter +included in his pledge of confidence to Victor McCalloway.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he evasively responded, "I jest kinderly picked hit up—hyar an' +thar as I went along."</p> + +<p>As soon as possible after that, Boone made his escape, and it was +characteristic of his close-mouthed self-containment that at Saul +Fulton's cabin he said nothing as to where he had spent his Christmas +eve.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + + +<p>On the afternoon of Christmas day, as Boone stood by the gate of Saul's +rented patch, looking off across the wet bareness of the fields to the +gray and shallow skyline, he was more than a little homesick for the +accustomed thickness of forest and peak. He at last saw two mounted +figures coming toward him, and recognized General Prince and Anne +Masters.</p> + +<p>"We rode by to wish you a very merry Christmas," announced the girl, and +the General added his smile and greeting.</p> + +<p>"I'm—I'm obleeged ter both of you-all," stammered Boone as Anne, +leaning over, handed him a package.</p> + +<p>"I thought maybe you'd like that. It's a fruit-cake," she informed him, +"I brought it because we think our cook makes it just a little bit +better than anybody else."</p> + +<p>Something told Boone Wellver that the girl, despite her fine clothes and +manners, was almost as shy with him as he felt toward her, and in the +thought was a sort of reassurance.</p> + +<p>"Hit's right charitable-like of ye ter fotch hit ter me," he responded, +slowly, and the child hastened to make a denial.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, please don't think that. It wasn't charity at all. It was +just—" But as she paused, General Prince interrupted her with a hearty +laugh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was, Anne," he announced. "The word is like the dances. It has +a different significance in the hills. For instance when you go to visit +your father in Marlin County, Boone will be charitable to you too—or, +as we would say, courteous."</p> + +<p>"Be ye comin' ter ther mountains?" demanded Boone, and the sudden +interest which rang in his voice surprised himself.</p> + +<p>Fearful lest he had displayed too much enthusiasm, he withdrew +cautiously into his almost stolid manner again. "I'm beholden ter ye fer +this hyar sweet cake," he said. "Hit's ther fust Christmas gift I ever +got."</p> + +<p>The house party ended a few days after that, so the mansion became again +a building of shuttered windows and closed doors, and as the old year +died and the new one dawned, Saul himself was frequently absent on +mysterious journeys to Frankfort.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he returned home with a smoulder in his eyes, and once or +twice he brought with him a companion, who sat broodingly across the +hearth from him and discussed politics, not after the fashion of frank +debate but in the sinister undertones of furtiveness. On one particular +night in the first week of January, while Saul was entertaining such a +visitor, a knock sounded on the door, and when it was opened a man +entered, whose dress and bearing were of the more prosperous strata and +who seemed to be expected.</p> + +<p>Boone overheard the conversation which followed from the obscurity of +the chimney corner, where he appeared to be napping and was overlooked.</p> + +<p>"I'm right sorry you was called on to journey all the way here from +Frankfort," began Saul apologetically, but the other cut him short with +a crisp response.</p> + +<p>"Don't let that worry you. There are too many eyes and ears in +Frankfort. You know what the situation is now, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I knows right well thet ther Democrat aims ter hev ther legislater seat +him. He's been balked by ther people an' his own commission—an' now +thet's his only chanst."</p> + +<p>"The Governor says that if he leaves the state house it will be on a +stretcher," announced the visitor defiantly. "But there are more +conspiracies against us on foot than I have leisure to explain. The time +has come for you mountain men to make good."</p> + +<p>Saul rose and paced the floor for a minute, then halted and jerked his +head toward the companion whom he had brought home with him that +evening.</p> + +<p>"Shake hands with Jim Hollins of Clay County," he said briefly. "We've +done talked it all over and he understands."</p> + +<p>"All right. It's agreed then that you take Marlin and Mr. Hollins takes +Clay. I have representatives in the other counties arranged for. These +men who come will be fed and housed all right. There'll be special +trains to bring them, and ahead of each section will be a pilot engine, +in case the news leaks out and anybody tries to use dynamite."</p> + +<p>"All right, then. We'll round ye up ther proper kind of men—upstandin' +boys thet ain't none timorous."</p> + +<p>The man in good clothes dropped his voice to an impressive undernote.</p> + +<p>"Have them understand clearly that if they are asked why they come, they +shall all make the same response: that in accordance with their +constitutional rights, they are in Frankfort to petition the +legislature—but above all have them well armed."</p> + +<p>Saul scratched his chin with a new doubt. "Most mountain men hev guns, +but some of 'em air mighty ancient. I misdoubts ef I kin arm all ther +fellers I kin bring on."</p> + +<p>"Then don't bring them." The man, issuing instructions, raspingly barked +out his mandate. "Unarmed men aren't worth a damn to us. If anybody +wants to hedge or back down, let him stay at home. After they get to +Frankfort, it will be too late."</p> + +<p>"And when they does git thar," inquired the man from Clay County +incisively, "what then?"</p> + +<p>"They will receive their instructions in due time—and don't bring any +quitters," was the sharply snapped response.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bev. Jett was the High Sheriff of Martin County, for in unaltered +Appalachia, with its quaint survivals of Elizabethan speech, where jails +are jail-houses and dolls are puppets, the sheriff is still the High +Sheriff.</p> + +<p>Now on a bleak January day, when snow-freighted clouds obscured the +higher reaches of the hills, he was riding along sloppy ways, cut off +from outer life by the steep barrier of Cedar Mountain.</p> + +<p>Eventually he swung himself down from his saddle before Asa Gregory's +door and tossed his bridle-rein over a picket of the fence, shouting, +according to custom, his name and the assurance that he came upon a +mission of friendliness.</p> + +<p>Bev. Jett remembered that when last he had dismounted at this door there +had been in his mind some apprehension as to the spirit of his +reception. On that occasion he had been the bearer of an indictment +which, in the prolix phrases of the law, made allegation that the +householder had "with rifle or pistol or other deadly weapon loaded with +powder and leaden bullet or other hard and combustible substance, +wilfully, feloniously and against the peace and dignity of the +Commonwealth of Kentucky," accomplished a murder. Now his mission was +more diplomatic, and Asa promptly threw open the door and invited him to +"light down and enter in."</p> + +<p>"Asa," said the officer, when he had paid his compliments to the wife +and admired the baby, "Jedge Beard sent me over hyar ter hev speech with +ye. Hit hes ter do with ther matter of yore askin' fer a pardon. Of +course, though, hit's a right mincy business an' must be undertook in +heedful fashion."</p> + +<p>Judge Baird, whose name the Sheriff pronounced otherwise, had occupied +the bench when Asa had been less advantageously seated in the prisoner's +dock.</p> + +<p>Reflecting now upon the devious methods and motives of mountain +intrigue, Gregory's eyes grew somewhat flinty as he bluntly inquired, +"How does ye mean hit's a mincy business?"</p> + +<p>"Hit's like this. Jedge Beard figgers thet atter all this trouble in +Frankfort, with you an' ther Carr boys both interested in ther same +proposition, they mout be willin' ter drap yore prosecution of thar own +will."</p> + +<p>Asa Gregory broke into a low laugh and a bitter one.</p> + +<p>"So thet's how ther land lays, air hit? He 'lows they'll feel friendly +ter me, does he? Did ye ever see a rattlesnake thet could he gentled +inter a pet?"</p> + +<p>"Ye've got ther wrong slant on ther question, Asa," the sheriff hastened +to explain. "The Jedge don't 'low thet ye ought ter <i>depend</i> on no sich +an outcome—an' he hain't dodgin'. None-the-less while he's on ther +bench he's obleeged ter seem impartial. His idee is ter try ter git ye +thet pardon right now if so be hit's feasible—but he counsels thet if +ye does git hit ye'd better jest fold hit up an' stick hit in yore pants +pocket an' keep yore mouth tight. If ther Carrs draps ther prosecution, +then ye won't hev ter show hit at all, an' they won't be affronted +neither. Ef they does start doggin' ye afresh, ye kin jest flash hit +when ye comes ter co'te, an' thet'd be ther end of ther matter. Don't +thet strike ye as right sensible?"</p> + +<p>"Thet suits me all right," acceded the indicted man slowly, "provided +I've got a pardon ter flash."</p> + +<p>Once more the sheriff's head nodded in reflective acquiescence.</p> + +<p>"Thet's why ye'd better hasten like es if ye war goin' down ter +Frankfort ter borry fire. They're liable ter throw our man out—an' then +hit'll be too late." After a pause for impressiveness, the Sheriff +continued,</p> + +<p>"Hyar's a letter of introduction from ther Jedge ter ther Governor, an' +another one from ther Commonwealth's attorney. They both commends ye ter +his clemency."</p> + +<p>"I'd heered tell thet Saul Fulton an' one or two other fellers aimed +ter take a passel of men ter Frankfort, ter petition ther legislater," +suggested Asa thoughtfully. "I'd done studied some erbout goin' along +with 'em."</p> + +<p>"Don't do hit," came the quick and positive reply. "Ef them fellers gits +inter any manner of trouble down thar ther Governor couldn't hardly +pardon ye without seemin' ter be rewardin' lawlessness. Go by +yoreself—an' keep away from them others."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>On the evening of the twenty-fifth of January Colonel Tom Wallifarro +stepped from the Louisville train at Frankfort and turned his steps +toward the stone-pillared front of the Capitol Hotel. Across the width +of Main Street, behind its iron fence, loomed the ancient pile of the +state house with its twilight frown of gray stone. The three-storied +executive building lay close at its side. Over the place, he fancied, +gloomed a heavy spirit of suspense. The hills that fringed the city were +ragged in their wintriness, and ash-dark with the thickening dusk.</p> + +<p>Bearing a somewhat heavy heart, the Colonel registered and went direct +to his room. Like drift on a freshet, elements of irreconcilable +difference were dashing pell-mell toward catastrophe. Colonel +Wallifarro's mission here was a conference with several cool hands of +both political creeds, actuated by an earnest effort to forestall any +such overt act as might end in chaos.</p> + +<p>But the spirit of foreboding lay onerously upon him, and he slept so +fitfully that the first gray of dawn found him up and abroad. River +mists still held the town, fog-wrapped and spectral of contour, and the +Colonel strolled aimlessly toward the station. As he drew near, he heard +the whistle of a locomotive beyond the tunnel, and knowing of no train +due of arrival at that hour, he paused in his walk in time to see an +engine thunder through the station without stopping. It carried neither +freight cars nor coaches, but it was followed after a five-minute +interval by a second locomotive, which panted and hissed to a grinding +stop, with the solid curve of a long train strung out behind it—a +special.</p> + +<p>Vestibule doors began straightway to vomit a gushing, elbowing multitude +of dark figures to the station platform, where the red and green +lanterns still shone with feeble sickliness, catching the dull glint of +rifles, and the high lights on faces that were fixed and sinister of +expression.</p> + +<p>The dark stream of figures flowed along with a grim monotony and an +almost spectral silence across the street and into the state house +grounds.</p> + +<p>There was a steadiness in that detraining suggestive of a matter well +rehearsed and completely understood, and as the light grew clearer on +gaunt cheekbones and swinging guns an almost terrified voice exclaimed +from somewhere, "The mountaineers have come!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p>When the senate convened that day, strange and uncouth lookers-on stood +ranged about the state house corridors, and their unblinking eyes took +account of their chief adversary as he entered.</p> + +<p>Upon his dark face, with its overhanging forelock, flickered no ghost of +misgiving; no hint of any weakening or excitement. His gaze betrayed no +interest beyond the casual for the men along the walls, whom report +credited with a murderous hatred of himself.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Boone was fretting his heart out at the cabin of Saul Fulton while he +knew that history was in the making at Frankfort, and on the evening of +the twenty-ninth an eagerness to be near the focus of activity mastered +him. The elements of right and wrong involved in this battle of +political giants were, to his untrained mind, academic, but the drama of +conflict was like a bugle-call—clear, direct and urgent.</p> + +<p>He would not be immediately needed on the farm, and Frankfort was only +fifteen miles away. If he set out at once and walked most of the night, +he could reach the Mecca of his pilgrimage by tomorrow morning, and in +his pocket was the sum of "two-bits" to defray the expenses of "snacks +an' sich-like needcessities." For the avoidance of possible discussion, +he slipped quietly out of the back door with no announcement to Saul's +wife. With soft snowflakes drifting into his face and melting on his +eyelashes, he began his march, and for four hours swung along at a +steady three-and-a-half mile gait. At last he stole into a barn and +huddled down upon a straw pile, but before dawn he was on the way again, +and in the early light he turned into the main street of the state +capital. His purpose was to view one day of life in a city and then to +slip back to his uneventful duties.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The town had outgrown its first indignant surprise over the invasion of +the "mountain army," and the senator from Kenton had passed boldly +through its unordered ranks, as need suggested. The hill men had fallen +sullenly back and made a path for his going.</p> + +<p>This morning he walked with a close friend, who had constituted himself +a bodyguard of one. The upper house was to meet at ten, and it was five +minutes short of the hour when the man, with preoccupied and resolute +features, swung through the gate of the state house grounds. The way lay +from there around the fountain to the door set within the columned +portico.</p> + +<p>In circling the fountain, the companion dropped a space to the rear and +glanced about him with a hasty scrutiny, and as he did so a sharp report +ripped the quietness of the place, speedily followed by the more muffled +sound of pistol shots.</p> + +<p>The gentleman in the rear froze in his tracks, glancing this way and +that in a bewildered effort to locate the sound. The senator halted too, +but after a moment he wavered a little, lifted one hand with a gesture +rather of weariness than of pain, and, buckling at the knees, sagged +down slowly until he lay on the flag-stoned walk, with one hand pressed +to the bosom of his buttoned overcoat.</p> + +<p>Figures were already running up from here and there. As the dismayed +friend locked his arms under the prone shoulders, he heard words faintly +enunciated—not dramatically declaimed, but in strangely matter-of-fact +tone and measure—"I guess they've—got me."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Boone Wellver saw a throng of tight-wedged humanity pressing along with +eyes turned inward toward some core of excited interest, and heard the +words that ran everywhere, "Goebel has been shot!"</p> + +<p>He felt a sudden nausea as he followed the crowd at whose centre was +borne a helpless body, until it jammed about the door of a doctor's +office, and after that, for a long while, he wandered absently over the +town.</p> + +<p>Turning the corner of an empty side street in the late afternoon he came +face to face with Asa Gregory, and his perplexed unrest gave way to +comfort.</p> + +<p>Asa was tranquilly studying a theatrical poster displayed on a wall. His +face was composed and lit with a smile of quiet amusement, but before +Boone reached his side, or accosted him, another figure rounded the +corner, walking with agitated haste, and the boy ducked hastily back, +recognizing Saul Fulton, who might tax him with truancy.</p> + +<p>Yet when he saw Saul's almost insanely excited gaze meet Asa's quiet +eyes, curiosity overcame caution and he came boldly forward.</p> + +<p>"Ye'd better not tarry in town over-long, Asa," Saul was advising in the +high voice of alarm. "I'm dismayed ter find ye hyar now."</p> + +<p>"Why be ye?" demanded Asa, and his unruffled utterance was velvet +smooth. "Hain't I got a license ter go wharsoever hit pleasures me?"</p> + +<p>"This hain't no safe time ner place fer us mountain fellers," came the +anxiety-freighted reply. "An' you've done been writ up too much in ther +newspapers a'ready. You've got a lawless repute, an' atter this mornin' +Frankfort-town hain't no safe place fer ye."</p> + +<p>"I come down hyar," announced Asa, still with an imperturbable suavity, +"ter try an' git me a pardon. I hain't got hit yit an' tharfore I hain't +ready ter turn away."</p> + +<p>Gregory began a deliberate ransacking of his pockets, in search of his +tobacco plug, and in doing so he hauled out miscellaneous odds and ends +before he found what he was seeking.</p> + +<p>In his hands materialized a corn-cob pipe, some loose coins and +matches, and then—as Saul's voice broke into frightened +exclamation—several rifle and pistol cartridges.</p> + +<p>"Good God, man," exploded the other mountaineer, "ain't ye got no more +common sense than ter be totin' them things 'round in this +town—terday?"</p> + +<p>Asa raised his brows, and smiled indulgently upon his kinsman. "Why, +ginrally, I've got a few ca'tridges and pistol hulls in my pockets," he +drawled. "Why shouldn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Well, git rid of 'em, an' be speedy about it! Don't ye know full well +thet every mountain man in town's goin' ter be suspicioned, an' thet +ther legislater'll vote more money than ye ever dreamed of to stretch +mountain necks? Give them things ter the boy, thar."</p> + +<p>Fulton had not had time to feel surprise at seeing Boone, whom he had +left on the farm, confronting him here on the sidewalk of a Frankfort +street. Now as the boy reached up his hand and Asa carelessly dropped +the cartridges into it, Saul rushed vehemently on.</p> + +<p>"Boone, don't make no mention of this hyar talk ter nobody. Take yore +foot in yore hand an' light out fer my house—an' ther fust +spring-branch ye comes ter, stop an' fling them damn things into ther +water."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When the wires gave to the world the appalling climax of that savagely +acrimonious campaign, a breathlessness of shock settled upon the State +where passion had run its inflammatory course. The reiteration of +Cassandra's prediction had failed to discount the staggering reality, +and for a brief moment animosities were silenced.</p> + +<p>But that was not for long. Yesterday the lieutenants of an iron-strong +leader had bowed to his dominant will. Today they stood dedicated to +reprisal behind a martyr—exalted by his mortal hurt.</p> + +<p>It appeared certain that the rifle had barked from a window of the +executive building itself—and when police and posses hastily summoned +had hurried to its doors, a grimly unyielding cordon of mountaineers +had spelled, in human type, the words "no admission."</p> + +<p>The Secretary of State, who was a mountain man, was among the first to +fall under accusation, and had the city's police officers been able to +seize the Governor, he too would doubtless have been thrown into a cell. +But the Governor still held the disputed credentials of office, and he +sat at his desk, haggard of feature, yet at bay and momentarily secure +behind a circle of bayonets.</p> + +<p>Just wrath would not, and could not, long remain only righteous +indignation. Out of its inflammation would spring a hundred injustices, +and so in opposition to the mounting clamour for extreme penalties arose +thundering the counter-voice of protest against a swift and ruthless +sacrifice of conspicuous scapegoats.</p> + +<p>To the aid of those first caught in the drag-net of vengeful accusation, +came a handful of volunteer defence attorneys, and among them was +Colonel Wallifarro.</p> + +<p>The leader with the bullet-pierced breast was dying, and in the +legislature the contest must be settled, if at all, while there was yet +strength enough in his ebbing life currents to take the oath of office.</p> + +<p>His last fight was in keeping with his life—the persistence of sheer +resolution that held death in abeyance and refused surrender.</p> + +<p>But when the Democratic majority of the assembly gathered at their +chambers, they encountered muskets; when, casting dignity to the snowy +winds, they raced toward an opera house, the soldiers raced with them, +and arrived first. When they doubled like pursued hares toward the Odd +Fellows' Hall, they found its door likewise barred by blade and muzzle.</p> + +<p>Among the first men thrown into jail were Saul Fulton and his friend +Hollins of Clay County. Their connection with the arrival of the +mountaineers was not difficult to establish—and for the officers +charged with ferreting out the ugly responsibility, it made a plausible +beginning.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the majority legislature, thwarted of open meeting, caucussed +in hotel bedrooms, and gave decision for the dying candidate. A hectic +and grotesque rumour even whispered that Mr. Goebel's gallant hold on +life had slipped before the credentials could be placed in his weakened +hand—and that the oath was solemnly administered to a dead body.</p> + +<p>Boone had gone back to Saul's farm house, and on the way he had tossed +the cartridges into a brook that flowed along the road, but his brain +was in a swirl of perplexity and in his blood was an inoculation. He +would never know content again unless, in the theatre of public affairs, +he might be an onlooker or an actor.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + + +<p>A FEW days after that, he started back again to his mountains. With Saul +in jail and his wife returning to her people, there was nothing further +to hold him here. Indeed, he was anxious now to get home. Like one who +has been bewildered by a plethora of new experiences, he needed time to +digest them, and above all he wanted to talk with Victor McCalloway, +whose wisdom was, to his thinking, as that of a second Solomon. There, +too, was his other hero, Asa, who had returned to the hills as quietly +as he had left them. Boone was burning to know whether, in the whirlpool +of excitement there at Frankfort, his efforts to secure executive +clemency had met with success or failure.</p> + +<p>When, immediately upon crossing Cedar Mountain, he presented himself at +McCalloway's house, he was somewhat nonplussed at the grave, almost +accusing, eyes which the hermit gentleman bent upon him.</p> + +<p>"I've jest got back hyar from ther big world down below," announced the +boy, "an' I fared straight over hyar ter see ye fust thing." He paused, +a little crestfallen, to note that reserve of silence where he had +anticipated a warmth of welcome, and then he went on shyly: "Thar was +hell ter pay down thar at Frankfort town—an' I seed a good part of ther +b'ilin' with my own eyes."</p> + +<p>Very slowly Victor McCalloway made response. "You have witnessed a +tragedy—a crime for which the guilty parties should pay with their +lives. Even then a scar will be left on the honour of your State."</p> + +<p>Boone crowded his hands into his coat pockets and shivered in the wet +wind, for as yet he had not been invited across the threshold.</p> + +<p>"I don't know nothin' about who done hit," he made calm assertion. "But +fellers like Saul Fulton 'peared ter 'low he plum needed killin."</p> + +<p>"Fellows like Saul Fulton!"</p> + +<p>The retired soldier drew a long breath, and his eyes narrowed. "You went +down there, Boone, with a kinsman who now stands accused of complicity. +The law presumes his innocence until it proves him guilty, but I'm not +thinking of him much, just now. I'm thinking of <i>you</i>." He paused as if +in deep anxiety, then added: "A boy may be led by reckless and wilful +men into—well—grave mistakes.... I believe in you, but you must answer +me one question, and you must answer it on your word of honour—as a +gentleman."</p> + +<p>The boy's pupils widened interrogatively, and held those older eyes with +an unfaltering steadiness. In their frank and engaging depths of blue, +as open as the sky, Victor McCalloway read the answer to his question, +and something like a sigh of relief shook him; something spasmodic that +clutched at his throat and his well-seasoned reserve. He had dreaded +that Boone might, in that fanatically bitter association, have brushed +shoulders with some guilty knowledge. He had refused that fear lodgment +in his thoughts as an ungenerous suspicion, but a lurking realization +had persisted. It might need only a short lapse from a new concept to an +inherited and ancient code to make heroes of "killers" for this +stripling.</p> + +<p>Slowly and candidly the boy spoke.</p> + +<p>"On my word of honour as a gentleman—" His utterance hung hesitantly on +that final word. It was a new thought that it might be applicable to +himself, yet this man was a better and more exacting judge of its +meaning than he, and his heart leaped to the quickened tempo of a new +pride.</p> + +<p>"I don't know nothin'—save thet I heered hit named aforehand thet men +war acomin' from ther mountings ter see justice done, an' didn't aim ter +be gainsaid ner thwarted, I 'lowed, though, hit would come about in +fa'r fight—ef so-be hit bred trouble."</p> + +<p>That same afternoon Asa Gregory happened by, and because McCalloway had +come to recognize, in his influence, the most powerful feudal force +operating upon the boy's thought, he waited somewhat anxiously to hear +whether the man would express himself on the topic of the assassination. +Since it was no part of wisdom to assail deep-rooted ferocities of +thought in minds already matured beyond plasticity, he did not himself +broach the matter, but he was pleased when Asa spoke gravely, and of his +own volition.</p> + +<p>"I done hed hit in head ter go along down thar ter Frankfort with them +boys thet Saul gathered tergether, but now I'm right glad I went by +myself. Thet war a mighty troublous matter thet came ter pass thar."</p> + +<p>"Did ye git yore pardon, Asa?" asked Boone, and the older kinsman +hesitated, then made a frank reply.</p> + +<p>"I hain't talkin' much erbout thet, son. Ther Governor war hevin' a +right stressful time, an' any favours he showed ter mountain men war +bein' held up ergainst him by his enemies. But I reckon I kin trust both +of ye.... Yes, I got ther pardon."</p> + +<p>Late in February an item of news filtered in through the ravines of the +hills which elicited bitter comment. The legislature had voted a reward +fund of $100,000 for the apprehension and conviction of those guilty of +the assassination of Senator Goebel, and, heartened by this spurring, +the pack of detectives, professional and amateur, had cast off full-cry.</p> + +<p>Saul Fulton lay in jail all that winter without trial. Upon the motion +of the Commonwealth, his day in court was postponed by continuance after +continuance.</p> + +<p>"I reckon," suggested Asa bluntly, "they aims ter let him sulter in jail +long enough ter kinderly fo'ce him ter drag in a few more fellers +besides himself—but hit won't profit 'em none."</p> + +<p>That winter spent its dreary monotony, and through its months Boone +Wellver was growing in mind and character, as well as in bone and +muscle. McCalloway began to see the blossoming of his Quixotically +fantastic idea into some hope and semblance of reality. The boy's brain +was acquisitive and flaming with ambition, and Victor McCalloway was no +routine schoolmaster but an experimenter in the laboratory of human +elements. He was working with a character which he sought to bring by +forced marches from the America of a quaint, broad-hearted past to the +America of the present—and future. Under his hand the pupil was +responding.</p> + +<p>The slate-gray ramparts of the hills reeked with the wet of thawing +snows. Watercourses swelled into the freshet-volume of the +"spring-tide." Into the breezes crept a touch of softer promise, and in +sheltered spots buds began to redden and swell. Then came the pale +tenderness of greens, and the first shy music of bird-notes. The sodden +and threadbare neutrality of winter was flung aside for the white +blossoming of dogwood, and in its wake came the pink foam of laurel +blossom.</p> + +<p>On one of those tuneful days, while Boone sat on the doorstep of Victor +McCalloway's house, listening to a story of a campaign far up the Nile, +Asa Gregory came along the road, with his long elastic stride, and +halted there. He smiled infectiously as he took the proffered chair and +crumbled leaf tobacco between his fingers for the filling of his cob +pipe.</p> + +<p>For a while the talk ran in simple neighbourhood channels. They spoke of +"drappin' an' kiverin'" in the corn fields, and the uncomplicated +activities of farm life. But, after a time, Asa reached into his hip +pocket and drew out a rumpled newspaper, which he tendered to Victor +McCalloway.</p> + +<p>"Mr. McCalloway," he said quietly, "ye're a friend of mine, an' right +now I have sore need of counsel with a man of wisdom. I'd be beholden +ter ye ef so be ye'd read thet thar printed piece out loud."</p> + +<p>The retired soldier took the sheet, several days old, and with the first +glance at its headlines, his features stiffened and his eyes blazed into +indignation.</p> + +<p>"This is a slander!" he exploded. "It's an infamous libel. Do you +actually want me to read it aloud?"</p> + +<p>Asa nodded, and, in a voice of protest, McCalloway gave audible +repetition to a matter to which he refused the sanction of belief.</p> + +<p>"New Murders for Old." That was the first headline, and the subheads and +the item itself followed in due order:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Commonwealth uncovers startling evidence.... Asa Gregory +indicted for firing fatal shot at Goebel.... Alleged he +received a pardon for prior offence as price of fresh infamy."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the most astounding chapter in a long serial of the +bizarre and melodramatic came to light today when the Franklin +Grand Jury returned a true bill against Asa Gregory, a +notorious mountain feudist, charging him with the assassination +of Governor Goebel. In the general excitement of those days, +the presence of Gregory in the state capitol escaped notice. +Now it develops, from sources which the Commonwealth declines +at this time to divulge, that on the day of the tragedy +Gregory, who already stands charged with the murder from ambush +of several enemies, came cold-bloodedly to town to seek a +pardon for one of these offences, and that in payment for that +favour he agreed to accept unholy appointment as executioner of +Governor Goebel. Gregory is now in hiding in the thicketed +country of his native hills, and it is foreseen that before he +is taken he may invoke the aid of his clansmen, and precipitate +further bloodshed."</p></blockquote> + +<p>McCalloway laid down the paper and stared at the blossom-burgeoning +slopes. It was strange, he reflected, that one could so swiftly yield to +the instincts of these high, wild places. For just now it was in his +heart to advise resistance. He thought that trial down there, before +partisan juries and biased judges, would be a farce which vitiated the +whole spirit of justice.</p> + +<p>It might almost have been his own sentiments that he heard shrilled out +from the excited lips of the boy; a boy whose cheeks had gone pale and +whose eyes had turned from sky-blue to flame blue.</p> + +<p>"They're jest a'seekin' ter git ye thar an' hang ye out of hand, Asa. +Tell 'em all ter go everlastin'ly ter hell! Ye kin hide out hyar in ther +mountains an' five hundred soldiers couldn't never run ye down. Ye kin +cross over inter Virginny an' go wharsoever ye likes—but ef ye suffers +yoreself ter be took, they'll hang ye outen pure disgust fer ther +hills!"</p> + +<p>Yes, thought Victor McCalloway, that was just about what would happen. +The boy whom he had been educating to a new viewpoint had, at a stride, +gone back to all the primitive sources of his nature, yet he spoke the +truth. Then the voice of Asa Gregory sounded again with a measured +evenness.</p> + +<p>"What does ye think, Mr. McCalloway? I was thar on thet day. I kin hide +out hyar an' resist arrest, like ther boy says, an' I misdoubts ef I +could git any lavish of justice down thar."</p> + +<p>"I doubt it gravely, sir," snorted McCalloway. "By Gad, I doubt it most +gravely."</p> + +<p>"An' yit," went on the other voice slowly, somewhat heavily, "ef I did +foller thet course hit mout mean a heap of bloodshed, I reckon. Hit'd be +mightily like admittin' them charges they're amakin' too." He paused a +moment, then rose abruptly from his chair. "I come ter ask counsel," he +said, "but afore I come my mind was already done made up. I'm agoin' +over ter Marlin Town termorrer mornin' an' I'm agoin' ter surrender ter +Bev. Jett, ther High Sheriff."</p> + +<p>"Don't ye never do hit, Asa," shouted the boy. "Don't ye never do hit!" +but McCalloway had risen and in his eyes gleamed an enthusiastic light.</p> + +<p>"It's a thing I couldn't have advised, Mr. Gregory," he said, in a +shaken voice. "It's a thing that may lead—God knows where—and yet it's +the only decent thing to do."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + + +<p>At the edge of Marlin Town stood the bungalow of the coal company's +superintendent, and in its living-room, on either side of a +document-littered table, sat two men. One of them, silvered of temple +and somewhat portly of stature, leaned back with the tranquillity of +complete relaxation after his day's work. His face wore the urbanity of +well-being and prosperity, but the man across from him leaned forward +with an attitude of nervous tension.</p> + +<p>To Larry Masters there was something nettling in the very repose with +which his visitor from Louisville crossed his stout and well-tailored +legs. This feeling manifested itself in the jerky quickness of hand with +which the mine superintendent poured whiskey into his glass and hissed +soda after it from the syphon.</p> + +<p>"Won't you fill up, Tom," he invited shortly. "The entertainment I can +offer you is limited enough—but at least we have the peg at our +disposal."</p> + +<p>"Thank you—no more." Colonel Wallifarro spoke with a pleasingly +modulated voice, trained into effectiveness by years of jury elocution. +"I've had my evening's allowance, except for a night-cap."</p> + +<p>Masters rose abruptly from his chair. He tossed down half the contents +of his glass and paced the floor with a restless stride, gnawing at his +close-cropped and sandy moustache. His tall, well-knit figure moved with +a certain athletic vitality, and his florid face was tanned like a +pig-skin saddle-skirt. But his brow was corrugated in a frown of +discontent, and his pale blue eyes were almost truculent.</p> + +<p>"By Gad, Tom," he flared out with choleric impetuosity, "you can put +more righteous rebuke into a polite refusal of liquor than most men +could crowd into a whole damned temperance lecture. I dare say, however, +you're quite right. Life spells something for you. It's worth +conserving. You've got assured position, an adoring family, money, +success, hosts of friends. You'd be a blithering fool, I grant you, to +waste yourself in indulgence, but I'm not so ideally situated. I 'take +the cash and let the credit go.'"</p> + +<p>"Yet you have, ahead of you, some ten or twelve years more of life than +I can reasonably expect," was the quiet response. "You still have +youth—or youth's fulfilment—early middle-age."</p> + +<p>"And a jolly lot that means to me," retorted Masters, with acerbity. "I +live here among illiterates, working for a corporation on a salary pared +to the bone. At the time of life when one ought to be at the top of +one's abilities, I'm the most pathetic human thing under God's arching +sky—a man who started out with big promise—and fell by the wayside. +Heaven help the man who fires and falls back—and if he can retrieve a +bit of temporary solace from that poor substitute"—he jerked a +forefinger toward the bottle—"then I say for Heaven's sake let him +poison himself comfortably and welcome."</p> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro studied the darkened scowl of his companion for a +moment before he replied, and when he spoke his own manner retained its +imperturbability.</p> + +<p>"I didn't offer gratuitous criticism, Larry," he suggested. "I merely +declined another toddy."</p> + +<p>"You know my case, Tom"—the younger of the two caught him up quickly; +"you know that no younger son ever came out from England with fairer +expectations of succeeding on his own. I've been neither the fool nor +the shirk—and yet—" A shrug of disgust finished the sentence.</p> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro studied his cigar ash without rejoinder, and when +Larry Masters failed to draw a return fire of argument, he sat for a +minute or two glumly silent. Then, as his thoughts coursed back into +other years, a slow light kindled in his eyes, as if for a dead dream.</p> + +<p>"You were always sceptical about Middlesboro, even when others were full +of faith—but why?" he demanded. "To you, with your Bluegrass ideas of +fat acres, these hills must always be the ragged fringes of things, a +meagre land without a future. It was only that you lacked imagination."</p> + +<p>The speaker swept torrentially on with as much of argumentative warmth +as though he had not just confessed himself ruined by reason of his own +former confidence.</p> + +<p>"Where the Gap came through lay the natural gateway of the hills, hewn +out in readiness by the hand of the Almighty. There was +water-power—ore. There was coal, for smelter and market, timber +awaiting the axe and the saw-mill—the whole tremendous treasure house +of a natural Eldorado."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," observed the Colonel, "and yet, when all is said and done, it +was only a boom—and it collapsed. Whatever the causes, the results are +definite."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it collapsed, and we went with it." Masters paused to take up and +empty the glass which had started the discussion, then with a heightened +excitement he swept on afresh:</p> + +<p>"Yet how near we came! Gad, man, your own eyes saw our conception grow! +You saw lots along what had been creek-bed trails sell at a +footage-price that rivalled New York's best avenues, and you yourself +recognized in me, for all your scepticism, a man with a golden future. +Then—after all that—you saw me jolly well ruined—and yet you prate of +what life may hold for me in the vigour of my middle-age."</p> + +<p>"All that happened ten years back, however," the elder man equably +reminded his companion. "It was the old story of a boom and a +collapse—and one misfortune—even one disaster—need not break a man's +spirit. You might have come back."</p> + +<p>The eyes of the portly gentleman rested in a momentary glance on the +bottle and glass, but that may have been chance. At least he did not +mention them.</p> + +<p>"You think I might have come back, do you?" The voice of the Englishman +had hardened. "I don't want to be nasty or say disagreeable things. +You've been a staunch friend to me—even when Anne found herself growing +bitter against me. Well, I don't blame her. Her people had been leaders +always. She had the divine right to an assured place in society, and I +had failed. I suppose it was natural enough for her to feel that she'd +been done in—but it happened to be the finish of me. I'd sweated blood +to make Middlesboro—and I didn't have the grit left to commence over."</p> + +<p>For the first time Colonel Wallifarro's attitude stiffened, bringing up +his silver-crowned head defensively.</p> + +<p>"Anne didn't leave you for financial reasons, Larry," he asserted +steadily. "She's my kinswoman, and you are my friend, but no purpose is +to be served by my listening to <i>ex parte</i> grievances from either of +you."</p> + +<p>Masters shrugged his shoulders. "I dare say you're quite right," he +admitted. "But be that as it may, she did leave me—left me flat. If she +didn't divorce me, it wasn't out of consideration for my feelings. It +would almost have been better if she had. All I ever succeeded in doing +for her was to make her the poor member of a rich family—and that's not +enviable by half. And yet if I'd been a sheer rotter, I could scarcely +have fared worse."</p> + +<p>"If it wasn't consideration for you, at least it was for some one who +should be important to you. As it is, your little girl isn't growing up +under the shadow of a sensational divorce record."</p> + +<p>The pale blue eyes of the Englishman softened abruptly, and the lips +under the short-clipped moustache changed from their stiffness to the +curvature of something like a smile. Into his expression came a lurking, +half-shy ghost of winsomeness. "Yes, yes," he muttered, "the kiddie. +God bless her little heart!"</p> + +<p>After a moment, though, he drew back his shoulders with a jerk and spoke +again in a harsher timbre.</p> + +<p>"Anne has been fair enough with me about the child, though I'm bound to +say I've been jolly well made to understand that it was only a +chivalrous and undeserved sort of generosity. Well, the kiddie's almost +twelve now, and before long she'll be a belle, too—poor, but related to +all the first families."</p> + +<p>Masters paused, and when he went on again it was still with the air of a +repressed chafing of spirit.</p> + +<p>"I dare say her mother will see to it that she doesn't repeat the +mistake of the previous generation—marrying a man with only a splendid +expectancy. Her heart will be schooled to demand the assured thing. That +pointing with pride—a gesture which you Kentuckians so enjoy—well, +with my little girl, it will all be done toward the distaff branch. +There won't be much said about the wastrel father."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," suggested the other, "you are a little less than just."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. She'll be a heart-breaker before long now—and listen, +man"—Masters came a step nearer—"don't make any mistake about me +either. When she's here, the bottle goes under lock and key. I play the +game where she's concerned."</p> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro nodded slowly. "I know that, Larry," he hastily +answered. "I know that. If the breach hadn't widened too far, I'd go as +far as a man could to bring your family together again under one +roof-tree."</p> + +<p>"That's no use, of course," admitted Masters with a dead intonation. +"Only remember that down here where I'm chained to my little job, life +ain't so damned gay and sunny at best—and don't begrudge me my +liquor."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + + +<p>During those following months, when Asa Gregory lay in jail, first in +Frankfort, then in Louisville, as a prisoner of state, who had been +denied bail, the boy back in the laurel-mantled hills smouldered with +passionate resentment for what he believed to be a monstrous injustice. +In his quest of education he sought refuge from the bitter brooding that +had begun to mar his young features with its stamp of sullenness. Asa +had killed men before, but it had been in that feud warfare which was +sanctioned by his own conscience. Now he stood charged with a murder +done for hire, the mercenary taking off of a man for whom he had no +enmity save that of the abstract and political. Upon his kinsman's +innocence the boy would have staked his life, and yet he must look +helplessly on and see him thrown to the lions of public indignation.</p> + +<p>Of Saul, he hardly thought at all. Saul was small-fry. The Commonwealth +would treat him as such, but upon Asa it would wreak a surcharged anger, +because to send Asa Gregory to the gallows would be to establish a +direct link between the Governor who had pardoned him and mountain +murder-lust.</p> + +<p>Already the Secretary of State had been disposed of with a promptitude +which, his friends asserted, savoured rather of the wolf pack than the +courtroom. The verdict had been guilty, and his case was now pending on +a motion for rehearing.</p> + +<p>Already, too, a stenographer, who had been in the employ of the fugitive +Governor, had been given a life sentence and had preferred accepting it +without appeal to risking the graver alternative of the gallows.</p> + +<p>As he lay in jail waiting until the slow grind of the law-mill should +bring him into its hopper, Asa too recognized the extreme tenuousness of +his chances.</p> + +<p>But it was not until the wheat had been harvested and threshed in the +rich bluegrass fields that the session of court was called to order, +whose docket held for Asa Gregory the question of life and death.</p> + +<p>That trial was to be at Georgetown, a graciously lying town about whose +borders stretched estates, where a few acres were worth as much as a +whole farm in the ragged and meagre hills. It was a town of kindly +people, but just now of very indignant people, blinded by an unbalanced +anger. It was not a hopeful place for a mountaineer with a notched gun +who stood taxed with the murder from ambush of a governor.</p> + +<p>Over the door of the brick court house stood an image of the blindfolded +goddess. She was a weather-worn deity, corroded out of all resemblance +to the spirit of eternal youthfulness which she should have exemplified, +and Boone pressed his lips tight, as he entered with McCalloway, and +noted that the scales which she held aloft were broken, but that the +sword in the other hand was intact—and unsheathed.</p> + +<p>At the stair head, in precaution against the electrically charged +tension of the air, deputies passed outspread hands over the pockets and +hips of each man who entered, in search for concealed weapons. About the +semicircular table, fronting the bench and the prisoner's dock, sat the +men of the press, sharpening their pencils and—waiting.</p> + +<p>Under the faded portrait of Chief Justice Marshall a battery of windows +let in the summer sun and the mellow voice of a distant negro, raised +somewhere in a camp-meeting song.</p> + +<p>Across a narrow alleyway were other windows in another building, and +beyond them operators sat idling by newly installed telegraph keys. +These men had no interest in the routine of the "running story." That +was a matter to be handled by the regular telegraph offices. These +newly strung wires would be dedicated to a single "flash"—when the +climax came. Then the reporters would no longer be sitting at their +crescent-shaped table. A few of them would stand framed in those +courtroom windows under the portrait of Chief Justice Marshall, and as +the words fell from the lips that held doom, their hands would rise, +with one, two, three, or four fingers extended, as the case might +warrant. In response to that prearranged signal, the special operators +would open their keys and—if one finger had been shown—over their +lines would run the single but sufficient word "death." Two fingers +would mean "life imprisonment"; three, "acquittal"; four would indicate +a "hung-jury." That time was still presumably far off, but the +arrangement for it was complete.</p> + +<p>In a matter of seconds after that grim pantomime occurred, foremen of +printing crews standing by triple-decked presses in Louisville, in +Cincinnati—in many other towns as well—would reach down and lift from +the floor one of the several type metal forms prepared in advance to +cover each possible exigency. A switch would be flipped. Back to the hot +slag of the melting pots would go the other half-cylinders, and within +three minutes papers, damp with ink and news, would be pouring from the +maws of the presses into the hands of waiting boys.</p> + +<p>To Boone these preparations were not yet comprehensible, but as +McCalloway led him to a seat far forward he felt the tense atmosphere of +place and moment.</p> + +<p>He recognized, in those lines of opposing counsel, an array of +notability. He picked out, with a glare of hatred, the bearded man whom +the prosecution had brought as co-counsel, from another State, because +of his great repute as a breaker-down of witnesses under +cross-examination. Then his eyes lighted, as down the aisle came the +full figure of Colonel Tom Wallifarro—to take its place among the +attorneys for the defence. There was reassurance in his calmness and +unexcited dignity.</p> + +<p>And after interminable preliminaries, he heard the voice of the clerk +droning from his docket, "The Commonwealth of Kentucky, against Asa +Gregory; wilful murder," and after yet other delays the velvety +direction from the bench, "Mr. Sheriff, bring the prisoner into court."</p> + +<p>Asa's face, as he was led through the side door, was less bronzed than +formerly, but his carriage was no less erect or confident. In a new suit +of dark colour, with fresh linen instead of his hickory shirt, clean +shaven and immaculately combed, the defendant was a transformed person, +and if there remained any semblance of the highland desperado, it was to +be found only in the catlike softness of his tread and the falcon +alertness of his fine eyes. Pencils at the press table began their light +scratching chorus—the reporters were writing their description of the +accused.</p> + +<p>Asa Gregory's line of defence had been foreshadowed in the examining +court. He had sworn that he arrived on the day of the shooting to +petition a pardon, and he had known nothing of what was in the air +until, from street talk, he learned of the tragedy.</p> + +<p>The chief issue of fact pivoted on his testimony that on that day he had +not been near the state house or executive building. The Commonwealth +would contradict that claim with the counter assertion that, straight as +a hiving bee, Asa had hastened from the train to the Governor's official +headquarters, where he had been cold-bloodedly rehearsed in his grim +duties. After firing the shot, the prosecution would contend he had +taken command of the other mountaineers who refused to the police the +privilege of entry and search.</p> + +<p>Through days, weeks even, after that, Boone sat, always in the same +place, with steadfast confidence in the eyes which he bent upon his +kinsman.</p> + +<p>Into the press dispatches began to steal mention of a boy in a cheap but +new suit of store clothes, whose eyes held those of the prisoner with a +rapt and unwavering constancy. It was even said that the amazingly +steady courage of the defendant seemed at times of unusual stress to +lean on that supporting confidence, and that whenever they brought him +from jail to courtroom, he looked first of all for the boy, as a pilot +might look for a reef-light.</p> + +<p>Shortly before the Commonwealth was ready to close, rumours went abroad. +It was hinted that new and sensational witnesses would take the stand, +with revelations as spectacular as the climax of a melodrama.</p> + +<p>Boone had followed the evidence with a tense absorption. He had marked +the effect of each point; the success or failure of every blow, and he +realized what a powerful web was being woven about the man in whom he +fully believed. There was no escaping the cumulative and strengthening +effect of circumstance built upon circumstance.</p> + +<p>He recognized, too, how like a keystone in an arch was the dependence of +the State upon proving one thing: that Asa had been present, just after +the shooting, and in command of those who barred the doors of the +executive building against legitimate search. He took comfort in the +fact that so far it had not been established by one sure piece of +evidence. Then came the last of the Commonwealth's announced witnesses.</p> + +<p>Upon the faces of the attorneys for the prisoner quivered a dubious +expression of apprehension—as they waited the promised assault of the +masked batteries. The son of the man who had walked at Senator Goebel's +side, when he fell, took the stand and told with straightforward +directness the story of the five minutes after the shot had sounded. He +and a policeman had sought entrance to the building, which presumably +harboured the assassin—and mountain men had halted him at the door, +under the leadership of one to whom the rest deferred. He described that +commander with fulness of detail, and it was as if he were painting in +words a portrait of the man in the prisoner's dock.</p> + +<p>"I was there as a volunteer—to see that no one who might be guilty +escaped from the building," testified the witness with convincing +candour. "I noticed one man in particular—because he seemed to be the +unofficial leader of the rest. Some one called him Asa."</p> + +<p>The man's voice was responsibly, almost hesitantly, grave, and on the +faces in the jury box one could read the telling impression of his +words.</p> + +<p>Then the bearded attorney, whose fame was secure as a heckler of +witnesses, rose dramatically from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Do you see that man in the courtroom now?"</p> + +<p>For a matter of seconds testifier and prisoner gazed with level +directness into each other's eyes, while over the crowded courtroom hung +a tense pall of stillness.</p> + +<p>Then the witness spoke in a tone of bewilderment—his words coming +slowly—as though they surprised himself.</p> + +<p>"No. I don't think I see him here."</p> + +<p>The poised figure of the lawyer, drawn statuesquely upright, winced as +painfully as though a trusted hand had smitten him, and in his abrupt +change of expression was betrayal of dismay and chagrin.</p> + +<p>"You say—you can't—identify him!" he echoed incredulously.</p> + +<p>Stubbornly the man who was testifying shook his head.</p> + +<p>"May I explain in my own way?" he inquired, and as the lawyer barked +raspingly back at him, the Court intervened:</p> + +<p>"This is your own witness—You must understand the impropriety of +attempting to force him."</p> + +<p>"While I was looking at the defendant there, just now," went on the man +in the chair, "I was seeing only his side face, and I was positive that +he was the person I was describing. Feature for feature and line for +line ... the likeness seemed exact. I was willing to swear to it.... But +when he turned and faced me ... I saw something else ... and now I don't +think he <i>is</i> the man."</p> + +<p>The words came in a puzzled and dumfounded confession, and the witness +paused, then went resolutely on again: "This man has a fine pair of +clear and well-matched eyes, when one sees them both at once.... That +one at the door had something ... I can't say just what it was ... that +marred one eye. I shouldn't call it a cast exactly ... but they didn't +match."</p> + +<p>Abruptly the State dismissed that witness, and about the defence tables +went quiet but triumphant smiles—which the jury did not miss, as the +pencils of the press writers raced. But over Boone Wellver's face passed +a shadow, and Asa, catching his eye across the heads of the crowd, read +the motion of the boy's moving lips, as, without sound, they shaped the +words, "Keep cool now, Asa! Keep cool."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + + +<p>The prosecution had other trumps yet to play. It called a name, which +brought into the courtroom, with shambling and uncertain step, a man +whose face was pasty with prison pallour. His thin body was garbed in +the zebra-stripes of the penitentiary's livery, and the hand that he +raised to take oath trembled. His voice, too, carried a quaver of +weakness in its first syllable.</p> + +<p>Here at length was the promised sensation. The stenographer who had +accepted his life-term had become star witness for the State. Now, +enlisted from the ranks of the accused, he had undertaken to tell what +purported to be the inside story of the plot.</p> + +<p>To hear his words, one had to bend attentively, yet, when he had talked +for an hour, the scratching of pencils at the press table sounded, +through his pauses, almost clamorous, and there was no other sound.</p> + +<p>Boone sat, tight of muscle, with his eyes steadfastly fixed on Asa. He +thought that just now he was needed, but at the pit of his stomach +gnawed a sickness of dread, and it seemed to him that already he could +see the gallows rising from its ugly platform.</p> + +<p>The bearded lawyer who had once battered down this man's own defence now +stood before him, shepherding his words on toward their climax. Faint +response followed sharp interrogation with a deadly effectiveness.</p> + +<p>"When did you first meet the defendant—Asa Gregory?"</p> + +<p>"On the thirtieth of January—in the forenoon."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"At my office in the state house."</p> + +<p>"Did your office adjoin that of the Secretary of State?"</p> + +<p>"It did."</p> + +<p>"What occurred at that time and place?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gregory rapped.... I let him in.... He handed me a letter from the +Governor, and we went into the Secretary's room.... Then he went over to +the window and looked out—and drew the blind part of the way down. For +a while he just studied the room ... taking in its details."</p> + +<p>The man in convict garb paused and fell into a fit of broken coughing.</p> + +<p>"Did you have any conversation with him?"</p> + +<p>"I did, sir."</p> + +<p>"What was it, in substance?"</p> + +<p>"I explained to him that the plan was to kill Senator Goebel, when he +came to the senate that morning. I showed him two rifles in the +corner.... They were of different makes."</p> + +<p>"What did he do then?"</p> + +<p>"He had me explain the way to get to the basement. He kneeled down by +the window and sighted one of the guns.... He piled up several law books +to rest it on ... and then he said that he was ready...."</p> + +<p>McCalloway's teeth were tight-clamped as he listened.</p> + +<p>"Yes, go on."</p> + +<p>"He said he had come to get a pardon for 'blowing down old man +Carr'—and was ready to give back favour for favour. Presently I saw +Senator Goebel turning in at the gate, and I said, 'That's him,' and he +said, 'I see him,' and I turned and slipped out of the room. As I was on +the stairs, I heard a rifle shot—and then several pistol shots."</p> + +<p>Boone Wellver groaned, and the current of his arteries seemed to run in +icy trickles through his body, but he kept his eyes steadfastly fixed on +Asa, whose life, he felt sure, this man was swearing away in perjury. +Asa gazed back. He even inclined his head with just the ghost of a nod, +and the boy knew that he meant that for encouragement.</p> + +<p>Through hours of that day the ghastly story unwound itself, and its +tremendous impact, gaining rather than losing impressiveness from the +faltering style of its telling, left the defence staggered and numbed. +McCalloway, glancing down at the boy's drawn face, felt his own heart +sicken.</p> + +<p>But when at last the man with the gray face and the gray, striped livery +had gone, the Commonwealth's attorney rose and said in the full-throated +voice of master of the show, "Now, we will call Saul Fulton."</p> + +<p>Saul, who had been indicted but never tried! Saul, too, had taken the +enemy's pay! Neither McCalloway nor Boone doubted that all this drama of +alleged revelation was fathered in falsity out of the reward fund and +its workings, yet one realized out of mature experience, and the other +out of instinct, that to the jury it must all seem irrefutable +demonstration.</p> + +<p>In marked contrast with the sorry drabness of that last witness was the +swagger of the next, who came twirling his moustache with the gusto of +pure bravado.</p> + +<p>Saul went back of the other's story and ramified its details. He told of +the mountain army which he had helped to recruit, and swore that that +force had come with a full understanding of its mission.</p> + +<p>"We went to ther legislature every day, expectin' trouble," he declared, +with a full-voiced boastfulness. "And we were ready to weed out the +Democratic leaders when it started."</p> + +<p>"To what purpose was all that planned?" purred the examining lawyer, and +the response capped it with prompt assurance:</p> + +<p>"The object was to have a Republican majority before we got through +shooting."</p> + +<p>"And you were willing to do your part?"</p> + +<p>Virtuously boomed the reply: "If it was in fair battle, I was willin', +yes, sir."</p> + +<p>Saul particularized. He recounted that he had himself nominated Asa as a +dependable gun-fighter, and that on the day of the tragedy he had met +Asa on the streets of Frankfort. Asa, he asserted, had brazenly +displayed a pocketful of cartridges.</p> + +<p>"He said to me," proceeded the witness; "'Them ca'tridges comes out of a +lot thet's done made hist'ry. Whenever I looks over ther sights of a +rifle-gun, I gits me either money or meat, an' this time I've done got +me both.'"</p> + +<p>Boone Wellver had been leaning tensely forward in his seat as he +listened. Here at last, to his own knowledge, the words that were +cementing his kinsman's doom were utterly and viciously false. He had +been a witness to that meeting, and it had been Saul and not Asa who had +seen danger in the possession of cartridges. It had been Saul, too, who +had excitedly instructed him to destroy the evidence.</p> + +<p>But Saul continued glibly: "Asa had done named ter me, back thar in ther +mountains, thet he reckoned him an' ther Governor could swap favours. So +when we met up that day in Frankfort, he said, 'Me an' ther Big Man, we +got tergether an' done a leetle business.'"</p> + +<p>The courtroom was tensely, electrically silent, when a boy rose out of +his chair, and with the suddenness of a bursting shell shrilled out in +defiance:</p> + +<p>"Thet's a damn lie, Saul, an' ye knows hit! I was right thar an—!" The +instant clatter of the Judge's gavel and the staccato outbreak of the +Judge's voice interrupted the interruption. "Silence! Mr. Sheriff, bring +that disturber before the Court."</p> + +<p>Still trembling with white-hot indignation, Boone was led forward with +the sheriff's hand on his shoulder, until he stood under the stern +questioning of eyes looking down from the bench.</p> + +<p>But instantly, too, Colonel Wallifarro's smoothly controlled voice was +addressing the Court: "May it please your Honour, before you punish this +boy I should like to offer a word or two of explanation."</p> + +<p>So Boone did not go to jail, but, after a sharp reprimand, he was sworn +as a witness for the defence, and excluded from the courtroom.</p> + +<p>When he took the witness-stand later, it was with a recovered +composure—and his straightforward story went far toward shaking the +impression Saul had left behind him—yet not far enough.</p> + +<p>He realized, with black chagrin, that as long as he had sat there +steadfastly calm, he had been to Asa a tower of strength—but that when +he had broken out he had forfeited that privilege—and left his kinsman +unsuccoured.</p> + +<p>At last the Commonwealth closed, and Asa himself came to the stand. Had +he been possessed of a lawyer's experience he could hardly have evaded +more skilfully the snares set in his path, as with imperturbable +gallantry he met his skilled hecklers. The even calmness of his velvety +eyes became a matter of newspaper report, and when he had finished his +direct testimony and had been turned over to the enemy, the fashion in +which he cared for himself also found its way into the news columns.</p> + +<p>Asa kept before him the realization that he had been advertised as a +"bad man" and an assassin. Just now he was intent upon impressing the +jury with his urbane proof against exasperation, even when the invective +of insinuation mounted to ferocity,</p> + +<p>"You have known the witness, Saul Fulton, for years, have you not?" +demanded the cross-examiner.</p> + +<p>"I've known him all my life."</p> + +<p>"Can you state any motive he should have for offering malicious and +false evidence against you?"</p> + +<p>"Any reason for his lyin'?"</p> + +<p>The prisoner gazed at the barking attorney with a calm seriousness and +replied suavely:</p> + +<p>"No, sir, only that he's swearin' to save his own neck from the +rope—an' thet's a right pithy reason, I reckon."</p> + +<p>Yet all the while that he was making his steep, uphill fight, Asa was +feeling a secret disquiet growing to an obsession within him. He could +not forget that some one upon whose reassurance he had leaned had been +banished from that place where his enemies were bent upon his undoing. +He felt as if the red lantern had been quenched on a dangerous +crossing—and the psychology of the thing gnawed at his overtried +nerves.</p> + +<p>Boone's freckled face and wide blue eyes had seemed to stand for +serenity, where all else was hectic and fevered.</p> + +<p>To Asa, that intangible yet tranquillizing support had meant what the +spider meant to Bruce, and now it had been taken from him.</p> + +<p>The bearded attorney who had destroyed defendant after defendant was +battering at him, with the massed artillery of vindictive and +unremitting aggressiveness.</p> + +<p>For a long while Asa fenced warily—coolly, remembering that to slip the +curb upon his temper meant ruin, but as assault followed assault, +through hours, his senses began to reel, his surety began to weaken, and +his eyes began to see red.</p> + +<p>The attorney who was scourging him with the whips of law saw the first +break in his armour and bored into it, with ever-increasing +vindictiveness.</p> + +<p>Into Asa's mind flashed a picture of the cabin back home, of the wife +suffering an agony of anxiety; of the baby whom he might never again +see. He seemed groping with his gaze for the steadying eyes of the boy, +who was no longer there—whom he desperately needed.</p> + +<p>"Asa's gittin' right mad," whispered one mountaineer to another. "I'd +hate ter encounter him, right now, in a highway—an' be an enemy of +his'n."</p> + +<p>But the bearded attorney, who was not in the highway, only badgered and +heckled him with a more calculating precision and, as he slowly shook +the witness out of self-restraint into madness, he was himself +deliberately circling from his place at the Commonwealth's table to a +position directly back of the jury box.</p> + +<p>Now, having achieved that vantage point, he watched the prisoner's face +grow sombre and furious as the prisoner's head lowered like that of a +charging bull.</p> + +<p>One more question he put—a question of deliberate insult, which brought +an admonitory rap of the Judge's gavel; then he thrust out an accusing +finger which pointed straight into the defendant's face.</p> + +<p>"Look at him now, gentlemen of the jury," he dramatically thundered. +"Look at those mismated eyes and determine whether or not this is the +man who blocked the state-house doorway—the assassin who laid low a +governor!"</p> + +<p>Gazing from their seats in the jury-box, the men of the venire saw +before them and facing them a prisoner whose two fine, calm eyes had +been transfigured and mismated by passion—whose pupils were marked by +some puzzling phenomenon of rabid anger that seemed to leave them no +longer twins.</p> + +<p>It was much later that the panel came in from the room where it had +wrangled all night, but that had been the decisive moment. Three or four +reporters detached themselves from their places at the press table and +stood close to the windows.</p> + +<p>Then the foreman spoke, for in Kentucky the jury not only decides guilt +but fixes the penalty, and the reporters raised one finger each—It +meant that the verdict was death.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + + +<p>As Victor McCalloway and Boone went to the railroad station on the +afternoon of the day that brought the trial to its end, they found the +platform crowded with others who, like themselves, were turning away +from a finished chapter.</p> + +<p>The boy stared ahead now with a glassy misery, and the eyes and ears, +usually so keenly awake to new sights and sounds, seemed too stunned for +service.</p> + +<p>Had it been the boy himself, instead of his kinsman, who stood condemned +to die, he could hardly have suffered more. Indeed, had it been his own +tragedy, Boone would not have allowed himself this surrender of bearing +under the common gaze, but would have held his chin more defiantly high.</p> + +<p>Back in the hills for the first time he was listless over his studies, +and even when he stood, sword in hand, before McCalloway, the spirit of +swift enthusiasm seemed departed from him. He had moved away from the +cabin where the "granny folks" dwelt to help Araminta Gregory run the +farm which had been bereft of its man, and his eyes followed her +grief-stricken movements with a wordless sympathy.</p> + +<p>McCalloway realized that now, even more than formerly, the flame of the +convicted man's influence was operating on the raw materials of this +impressionable mind, welding to vindictiveness the feudal elements of +its metal. But McCalloway had learned patience in a hard school, and now +he was applying the results of his experience. Slowly under his +sagacious guidance the stamp of hatred which had latterly marred the +face of his youthful protégé began to lighten. Boone was as yet too +young to go under the yoke of unbroken pessimism. The very buoyancy of +his years and splendid health argued that somehow the clouds must +break. Meanwhile his task was clean cut—and dual. Asa's "woman" must +have, from the stony farm, every stalk and ear of corn that could be +wrung from its stinted productivity—and he must put behind him that +ignorance which had so long victimized his kind. So once more he turned +to his books when he was not busy with hoe or plough.</p> + +<p>One day, while the boy and the man sat together in McCalloway's house, +knuckles rapped sharply on the door. It is contrary to the custom of +frontier caution for one to come so far as the threshold without first +raising his voice in announcement from a greater distance.</p> + +<p>But the door opened upon a grizzled man at the sight of whose face +McCalloway bent forward as though confronted by a spectre—and indeed +the newcomer belonged to a world which he had renounced as finally as +though it had been of another incarnation.</p> + +<p>This visitor was lean and weather-beaten. His face was long and somewhat +dour, but tanned brown, and instead of speaking he brought his hand to +his temple with a smart salute. It was such a salute as bespoke a long +life of soldiering and the second nature of military habit. The voice in +which McCalloway greeted him was almost unrecognizable as his own, +because it was both far away and strained.</p> + +<p>"Sergeant!" he exclaimed; "what has brought you here?"</p> + +<p>"The lad, sor'r," the other gravely reminded him. "I must speak with ye +alone. 'Tis a verra private and a verra serious matter that brings me."</p> + +<p>Boone had never heard so hard a note in his benefactor's voice as that +which crept into his curt reply:</p> + +<p>"It must needs be—to warrant your coming without permission, +MacTavish."</p> + +<p>They were just finishing their daylight supper, and the boy rose, +pushing back his chair. Faithfully he regarded his pledge of respecting +the other's privacy whenever he was not invited to share it, and +instinctively he felt that this was no moment for his intrusion.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I'll hev ter be farin' over thar ter see how Asa's woman's +comin' on," he remarked casually, as he reached for the hat that lay at +his feet. "Like es not she needs a gittin' of firewood erginst +nightfall."</p> + +<p>But the matter-of-fact tone and manner were on the surface. Boone +secretly distrusted the few messages that came to his preceptor from the +outside world. By such voices he might be called back again and hearken +to the summons. Boone could not contemplate existence with both his +idols ravished from his temple.</p> + +<p>Now he closed the door behind him in so preoccupied a mood that he left +his rifle standing against the wall forgotten and McCalloway remained +standing by the table rather inflexible of posture and sternly +inquisitorial of countenance.</p> + +<p>"MacTavish," he said in sharply clipped syllables, "you are one of +few—a very few—who know of my incognito and address. I have relied +upon you implicitly to guard those secrets. I trust you can explain +following me into what you must know was a retirement not to be +trespassed upon without incurring my anger—my very serious anger."</p> + +<p>Respectfully, but with a face full of eager resoluteness, the other +saluted again.</p> + +<p>"General," he said, "it's China—they need you there."</p> + +<p>"Sergeant"—an angry light leaped in the steel-gray eyes—"if they want +me in China some one whom I have trusted has betrayed my identity. No +living soul there ever heard of Victor McCalloway, <i>Mister</i> McCalloway, +not General Anything, mind you!"</p> + +<p>The newcomer crossed to the centre of the room, and his movements were +quick and precise, as are those of the drill-ground.</p> + +<p>"To every other man on earth ye may be <i>Mister</i> McCalloway—but to me ye +are my general. Before I'd betray any trust ye might place in me, sor'r, +I'd cut off that hand at the wrist, as ye ken, sor'r, full well. I've +told nae soul where ye wor'r. I've only said that I'd seek for ye."</p> + +<p>"But in God's name how—?"</p> + +<p>"If I may interrupt ye, sor'r, I am no longer Sergeant Major MacTavish; +I'm a time-retired man at home, but when I wear a uniform now it's that +of the army of the Manchu Emperor. They seek to reorganize their army +along western lines. They want genius. They ken nothin' of ye save that +one Victor McCalloway was once a British officer of high rank who served +so close to Dinwiddie, that Dinwiddie's strategy is known to him.—Read +this, sor'r, and ye'll understand more of the matter."</p> + +<p>The General took the large, official-looking missive and stood for a +moment with a drawn and concentrated brow before he slit its linen-lined +covering.</p> + +<p>The feel of the thing in his fingers brought to him a certain stirring +and quickening of the pulses: such a restiveness as may come to the +retired thoroughbred at the far-off sound of the paddock bugle, or to +the spent war horse at the rolling of drums.</p> + +<p>The heavy blue paper and the thick seal set into disquieting momentum an +avalanche of memories. Active days which he had resolved to forget were +conjured into rebirth as he handled this bulky envelope which proclaimed +its officialdom. Even the daily papers came to him here with desultory +lack of sequence. He knew in disjointed fashion how that same summer an +anti-foreign revolt had broken out in Shantung and spread to Pechili. He +had read that the Japanese Government had dispatched twenty thousand men +to China. Later he had followed the all too meagre accounts of how the +Allies had raced for Peking to relieve the besieged legations. The young +Emperor's ambition to impress upon his realm the stamp of western +civilization had made him, for two years, a virtual prisoner to the +Empress Dowager and her reactionaries. Now in turn the Empress Dowager +was in flight and, presumably, the Japanese, working in concert with +agents of the captive Emperor and Prince Ching, were looking toward the +future.—It would seem that they divined once more the opportunity to +Occidentalize army and government. If so, it was the rising of a world +tide which might well run to flood, and it offered him a man's work. At +all events, this letter which caused his fingers to itch and tremble as +they held it, came from high Japanese sources and it was addressed only +"Excellency," without a name. The envelope itself was directed to "The +Honourable Victor McCalloway."</p> + +<p>For a long time he stood there immovable, looking at the paper, as great +dreams marched before him. Organization, upbuilding—that was his +<i>metier</i>!</p> + +<p>Seeing the rapt concentration of his brow and the hunger of his eyes, +the former British sergeant spoke again with persuasive fervour:</p> + +<p>"Go under any name ye like, sor'r; ye'll be prompt to give it glory! For +many years I served under ye, General. For God's sake, let me take my +commands from ye once again! Come out to China, sor'r, where they need a +great soldier—and can keep silent!"</p> + +<p>The hermit strode over and laid a hand on the shoulder of his visitor. +Their eyes met and held. "Old comrade," said McCalloway, as the rust of +huskiness creaked in his voice, "I know you for the truest steel that +ever God put into the blade of a man's soul—but I must have time to +think."</p> + +<p>He crossed the room slowly and took up Dinwiddie's sword. Tenderly he +drew the blade from the scabbard, and as he looked at it his eyes first +glowed with fires of longing, then grew misty with the sadness of +remembrance.</p> + +<p>After that he laid the scabbard down and handled once more the sheets +that had been in the envelope. He did not re-read the written sentences, +but let his fingers move slowly along the smooth surface of the paper, +while his pupils held as far-away a look as though they were seeing the +land from which the communication had come.</p> + +<p>But, after a little, McCalloway came out of that half-hypnotized +absorption, and his eyes wandered about the room until finally they +fell on the rifle that the mountain boy had forgotten to take away with +him.</p> + +<p>He knew Boone well enough to feel sure that he had not gone far without +remembering. He was certain, too, that his young protégé would have +returned for it before now had he not been inhibited by his deference +for the elder's privacy.</p> + +<p>Over there across the world was an army to be shaped, disciplined—but +an army of alien blood, of yellow skins. Here was the less conspicuous +task to which he had set his hand; the shaping of a single life, beset +with hereditary dangers, into a worthy edifice of which the timbers and +masonry were Anglo-Saxon and the pattern Americanism. He had too far +committed himself to that architecture to turn back.</p> + +<p>Slowly he shook his head. The struggle had been sharp, but the decision +was final.</p> + +<p>"No, MacTavish, old comrade and old friend," he said very seriously; +"no; I've withdrawn from all that. I'll not deny that my hand sometimes +aches for a grip on a sabre-hilt, and my ears are hungry for a +bugle—but that's all past. Go out and make an army there, if you can, +but I stay here. I needs must stay."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + + +<p>One day McCalloway received a paper, several days old, that contained a +piece of news which he was anxious for Boone to see at once, and he +straightway set out to find the boy.</p> + +<p>Araminta greeted him at the door of the Gregory cabin with apathetic +eyes. "Booney's done gone out with his rifle-gun atter squirrels," she +said. "I heered him shoot up on ther mountainside thar, not five minutes +back."</p> + +<p>Before he followed the boy, McCalloway read to her and construed the +item in the paper, and for the first time in many weeks the hard +wretchedness of her heart softened to tears and a faint ray of hope +stole through her misery.</p> + +<p>McCalloway began climbing the hillside, searching the thickets for the +boy, and at last he saw him while he himself remained unseen. Boone was +standing with his gaze turned toward Louisville—and its jail—two +hundred and more miles distant. His face was like that of a fanatic in a +religious trance, and his right hand gripped his rifle so tightly that +the knuckles showed out white splotched against the tanned flesh.</p> + +<p>"I failed ye, Asa," came the self-accusing voice in a tight-throated +strain. "I bust out and got sent outen ther co'te room, when ye needed +me in thar ter give ye countenance, but God knows I hain't fergot ye." +He paused there, and his chest heaved convulsively. "An' God, He knows, +too, I aims ter avenge ye," he ended up, with a dedication of savage +sincerity, while his gaze still seemed to be piercing the hills toward +the city where his kinsman lay condemned.</p> + +<p>McCalloway came forward then, and while he talked, Boone listened with +attentive patience, but an obdurate face.</p> + +<p>The man sought to exact a promise that until he was twenty-one, Boone +should "hold his hand" so far as Saul Fulton was concerned. Given those +plastic years, he could hope to wean the lad gradually away from the +tigerish and unforgiving ferocity of his blood, but Boone could only +shake his head, unable either to argue or to yield.</p> + +<p>Then McCalloway sketched the seemingly irrelevant narrative of what had +occurred in China; of the peril of the legations. He talked of an +emperor, captive to court intrigue, and slowly the lad's eyes, which had +been until now too preoccupied with his own wormwood to think of other +matters, began to liven into interest.</p> + +<p>"But thet's all plumb acrost ther world from hyar, though," he asserted +in a pause, as though he begrudged the arresting of his attention. +"What's hit got ter do with me—an' Asa?"</p> + +<p>General McCalloway cleared his throat. It came hard for him to talk of +himself and of a sacrifice made for another.</p> + +<p>"It has this to do with you, my boy," he announced bluntly: "I have been +offered a soldier's job over there. I have been invited to aid in work +that would help to stabilize China—and I have refused."</p> + +<p>Boone Wellver's lips parted in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Refused," he gasped. "Fer God's sake, what made ye do hit!"</p> + +<p>"Because of you," was the sober response. "I thought you needed me, and +I thought you were worth standing by."</p> + +<p>"Fer me!" The lad was trembling again, but this time not with anger. "I +reckon I'll be powerful beholden ter ye, all my life, fer thet—but ye +hedn't ought ter hev done hit. They needs ye over thar, too—an' thar's +monstrous numbers of 'em, from what ye narrates."</p> + +<p>"I know it, Boone," McCalloway spoke earnestly. "I've centred some very +ambitious dreams about your future. The time is hardly ripe to explain +them—but you have a great opportunity—unless you throw it away in +vengeful fury. If you won't trust me to guide you—until you come of +age, at least—I had much better have gone to China."</p> + +<p>The boy turned away, and in his set face McCalloway could read that for +him this was an actual moment of Gethsemane. Through his nature as over +a hotly embattled field surged contrary and warring emotions—and +between them he was cruelly buffeted.</p> + +<p>"God knows I'm wishful," he broke out at length. "An' God knows, atter +what ye've jest told me, I hain't got no license ter deny ye nothin' ye +asks—but—" The end of his sentence came like a sob. "But ye wouldn't +ask me ter be disloyal ter my own kith an' kin, would ye?"</p> + +<p>"No—but I would ask you to have a higher loyalty."</p> + +<p>Boone stood trembling like an ague victim. It was no light matter for +him to give so binding a pledge.</p> + +<p>"No Gregory ner no Wellver hain't nuver died on ther gallows tree yit," +he faltered. "Thar's two things I'd done swore ter do. One of 'em was +ter git Saul. I reckon, though, thet could wait."</p> + +<p>"What is the other thing?"</p> + +<p>"Thet afore they hangs him—some fashion or other—I've got ter git a +gun in thar ter Asa ... so he kin kill hisself. Hit hain't fitten thet +he should die by a rope like a common feller!"</p> + +<p>The emotion-laden voice became almost shrill. "Even ther Carrs an' +Blairs don't <i>hang</i>. They come nigh ter hangin' one oncet, but a kinsman +saved him."</p> + +<p>"How?" inquired McCalloway, and the boy responded gravely:</p> + +<p>"He lay up on ther hillside an' shot his uncle ter death as they was +takin' him from the jail-house ter ther gallows."</p> + +<p>Truly, reflected the soldier, he was modelling with grim and stiff clay, +but he only said:</p> + +<p>"Promise me that, as to Saul, you will wait—until you are twenty-one."</p> + +<p>Boone did not reply for five full minutes, but at the end of that time +he nodded his head. "I kain't deny ye nothin', atter what ye've done fer +me," he assented briefly.</p> + +<p>Then McCalloway read from the paper his scrap of encouragement. The +Court of Appeals had granted the Secretary of State a rehearing.</p> + +<p>"But thet hain't Asa," objected the boy. "I don't keer nothin' erbout +thet feller."</p> + +<p>McCalloway smiled.</p> + +<p>"It's a similar case, tried by the same court, and involving the same +principles. It indicates that Asa will have a new trial, too."</p> + +<p>"Ef he comes cl'ar," announced Boone, with the suddenly rocketing +spirits of boyhood, "I reckon Asa kin handle his own affairs."</p> + +<p>McCalloway had set himself to preparing Boone within a year from that +fall for entrance into the state university. There was but a faint +background of prior attainment against which to paint many things, but +there was an avidly acquisitive pupil, a tireless teacher, and an +intensive plan of education.</p> + +<p>Gregory was still in the Louisville jail—where, indeed, a half dozen +other years were yet to find him. The Secretary of State had come +through his second trial with a second conviction, and had once more +been granted a rehearing.</p> + +<p>Saul Fulton, the star witness in Asa's trial, had disappeared, and +report had it that he had gone to South America—but the record of his +former testimony remained fixed in the stenographer's notes and was +fully available for later use—so that his going lifted no shadow from +Asa's future.</p> + +<p>"I reckon they squshed ther indictment ergin him," Boone commented +bitterly to McCalloway, "an' paid him off with some of thet thar blood +money."</p> + +<p>He paused and then went on, holding his finger between the pages of the +book he was studying. "He's done fared a long way off—but, some day +he'll fare back again. I stands full pledged—twell I comes of age, an' +I aims ter keep my word. Atter thet, I hain't makin' no brash promises. +Ther hate in my heart, hit don't seem ter slacken none. I mistrusts hit +won't—never."</p> + +<p>But if the festering grievance did not "slacken," at least it seemed +just now partly submerged in the great adventure of going down to the +world below and becoming a collegian.</p> + +<p>He went early in the autumn when he was seventeen, and McCalloway, who +accompanied and matriculated him, came away smiling. He had felt as +though he were leading a wolf-cub into a kennel of blooded hounds. But +when he had watched the self-poise with which his registrant bore +himself and how quickly amused smiles faded away under his level gaze, +he left with a reassured confidence.</p> + +<p>When the days began to grow crisp the uncouth scholar saw for the first +time the lads in leather and moleskin tackling and punting out on the +campus—in the early try-outs of the season's football practice. He +looked on at first with a somewhat satirical detachment, but when the +scrimmages took on the guise of actual ferocity his interest altered +from tepid disapproval for "sich foolery" to a realization that it was +"no gal's play-party."</p> + +<p>Several afternoons later Boone shyly intercepted the coach as he led out +the practice squads.</p> + +<p>"Does thet thar football business belong ter a club—er somethin'," he +inquired, "er kin any feller git inter hit?"</p> + +<p>The coach looked at the roughly dressed lad with the unruly hair, who +talked in barbaric phrases—and his practised eye took in the sinewy +strength of the well-muscled body. He appraised the power of the broad +shoulders, and the slim, agile lines of waist and legs, and gave him a +chance.</p> + +<p>From the beginning it was evident that Boone Wellver would make the +scrub team. He was a tornado from the instant the ball was snapped—"an +injia rubber idjit on a spree," and yet this mystifying wolf-cub from +the hills came back to the coach in less than a week with an almost +sullen face and announced shortly:</p> + +<p>"I hain't goin' ter play no more football, I aims ter quit hit."</p> + +<p>"Quit it! Why?"</p> + +<p>"I've been studyin' hit over," the retiring candidate explained +gloomily. "A man thet hain't no blood kin ter me is payin' what hit +costs ter send me hyar. I hain't hardly nothin' but a charity feller, +nohow—an' until he says hit's all right, I don't aim ter spend ther +time he's payin' fer out hyar playin' fool games—albeit I likes hit."</p> + +<p>At the solemness and the unconscious self-righteousness of the tone, a +laugh went up, and Boone turned with a straight-lined mouth to meet the +derisive outburst.</p> + +<p>"But I'm out here now, though," he added pointedly, lowering his head as +does a bull about to charge, "an' I kin stay a leetle longer. If any of +you fellers, or ther whole damn passel of ye, thinks I'm quittin' +because I'm timorous, I'd be right glad ter take ye on hyar an' +now—fist an' skull."</p> + +<p>There was no acceptance of the invitation, and Boone, turning, with his +shoulders straight, marched away.</p> + +<p>But when McCalloway read his letter, he promptly responded:</p> + +<p>"A razor is made to shave with—. Its purpose is work and only work. +Still, if it isn't honed and stropped it loses its edge. It's hardly +fair to regard as wasted the time spent on keeping that edge keen. I +want you to get the most out of college, and that doesn't mean only what +you get out of the books. If I were you, I'd play football and play it +hard."</p> + +<p>Boone went down the stairs, four steps at a time. He could hear the +coach's whistle out on the campus and he came like a hound to the chase. +"Hi, thar!" he yelled, "kin I git back in thet outfit? <i>He</i> 'lows hit's +all right fer me ter play."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Back in the hills Victor McCalloway was more than a little lonely. He +began to realize how deeply this boy—at first almost a waif—had stolen +into the affections of his detached life. Once or twice he went to +Lexington to see how his protégé progressed, and he had several brief +visits from General Prince and more than several from Larry Masters. +After what seemed a very long while indeed, Boone came home for his +first summer vacation.</p> + +<p>Araminta Gregory had a brother at her farm now, so the boy went direct +to the house of Victor McCalloway, which was henceforth to be his home.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + + +<p>Happy Spradling, whose father had overseen the raising of Victor +McCalloway's house, was only two years younger than Boone. When he had +gone away, a lad of seventeen, he had been untroubled by thoughts of +girls, and she had certainly wasted no meditation upon him.</p> + +<p>But the Boone who came back was not quite the same boy who had gone +away. He was still roughly dressed, judged by exacting standards, but +corduroy had supplanted his old jeans, and he returned with a much +developed figure and an improved bearing.</p> + +<p>Now one afternoon Happy Spradling stood with a pail, by a +"spring-branch" of crystal water, as Boone came by and halted. She, too, +had been to one of those settlement schools that were just beginning to +introduce new standards in the hills, and her homecoming to unrelieved +crudities was not an unmixed pleasure. Certain it is that the slim girl +in her calico gown was blessed with a fresh and vigorous beauty. Her +sloe-brown eyes were heavy lashed, and her skin was blossom clear. Dark +hair crowned her well-poised head in heavy masses—and the boy was +surprised because he had not remembered her as so lovely.</p> + +<p>"Ye look right sensibly like a picture outen ther Bible of Rebekkah at +the well," he banteringly announced, and the girl flushed.</p> + +<p>"Ye ain't quite so uncurried of guise as ye used to be your own self, +Boone," she generously acceded, and they both laughed.</p> + +<p>They talked on for a while, and before Boone started away the girl +invited shyly, with lids that drooped, "Come over sometime, Boone, an' +tell me all about the college."</p> + +<p>But it happened that the next day he went, with a note from McCalloway, +to the home of Larry Masters, the "mine boss," at the edge of Marlin +Town, and there fate ambushed him in the person of the girl who had +asked him to dance at the Christmas party.</p> + +<p>Anne Masters came to the door in response to the boy's knock, and when +he had seen her he stood hesitant with his eyes fixed upon her until her +cheeks flushed, while he forgot the note he had brought for her father.</p> + +<p>Anne herself did not recognize him at first, for Boone stood close to +six feet now, and although he would always be, in a fashion, careless of +dress, he would never again be the sloven, as were the kinsmen about +him. His corduroy breeches, flannel shirt and boots that laced halfway +up the calf, all seemed a part of himself, like a falcon's plumage. But +what the girl noticed first, since she was both young and +impressionable, was the crisp curl of his red brown hair and the direct +fearlessness of his sky-blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"I reckon ye don't remember me," he hazarded, by way of introduction; +and she shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Have I seen you before?" she inquired, and Boone found it difficult to +talk to her because he was so busy looking at her. There had been girls +as well as boys at the state university, but among them had been none +like Anne Masters. Boone was to learn from a broader experience that +there were few like her—anywhere. Even now when she was a bud not yet +blossomed, she had that indescribable fairy god-mother's gift to which +no analyst can fit a formula—the charm which lays its spell upon others +and the gift of individuality.</p> + +<p>"You've seed me—seen me, I mean—before. But it's right natcher'l fer +ye to fergit it, because it was a long spell back. You gave me the first +Christmas gift I ever got in my life—a piece of plum cake. Do you +remember me now?"</p> + +<p>The light of recollection broke over her face, illuminating it—and Anne +Masters had those eyes that actually sparkle within—the dancing eyes +that are much rarer than the phrase.</p> + +<p>"Of course I remember you! I've thought about you—lots. I've always +called you the 'fruit-cake boy.'" Suddenly her laugh rippled out in a +lilting merriment. "Don't you remember when you challenged Morgan with +the fencing foils?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," exclaimed Boone, flushing, "I'd plumb disremembered that."</p> + +<p>It was June, with days of diamond weather and the bloom still upon wild +rose and rhododendron. Anne looked away beyond the boy's head to the +tallest crest of the many that ringed the town. Suddenly she demanded: +"Have you ever been up there—at the tip-top of that mountain?"</p> + +<p>He nodded his head, and she at once commanded: "I want you to show me +the way up there—I want to go up and climb to the top of that tree that +you can see from here, the one that stands up higher than all the +others."</p> + +<p>Boone shook his head soberly. "It's a right hazardous undertakin' fer +anybody thet isn't used to scalin' clifts," he objected. "Why do you +want to go up there to the top of old Slag-face?"</p> + +<p>Her expression had clouded to autocratic displeasure at his failure of +immediate assent, but only for an instant; then her eyes altered again +from coercive frown to irresistible smile.</p> + +<p>"Why?" she exclaimed. "Why does a bird want to fly? Up there at the top +of that tree you'd be almost in the sky. You'd be looking down on +everything but the clouds themselves. When I was a little girl—" she +announced suddenly, "they had a hard time persuading me that I +<i>couldn't</i> fly. They had to keep watching me, because I'd climb up on +things and try to fly down."</p> + +<p>"Have you plumb outgrown that idee?" he inquired, somewhat drily. +"Because I'm not cravin' to help you fly offen that mountain top."</p> + +<p>Her laugh rippled out like bird notes as she replied with large scorn of +fourteen years: "<i>That</i> was when I was a child."</p> + +<p>After a moment she added appealingly: "The last time I saw you, General +Prince said that when I came to these hills, you'd be 'charitable' to +me."</p> + +<p>"I aims to be," he asserted stoutly, "but it wouldn't skeercely be +charitable to be the cause of your breakin' an arm or"—he paused an +instant before adding with sedateness—"or a limb."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>But Anne had her way. She always had her way, and some days later they +looked down on an outspread world from the crest of Slag-face. Boone had +not been long in discovering that this slender girl was driven by a +dauntless spirit that made of physical courage a positive fetish, so he +had pretended weariness himself from time to time and demanded a +breathing spell.</p> + +<p>The sky overhead was splendidly soft and blue, broken by tumbling cloud +masses, which, it seemed, one could almost reach out and touch.</p> + +<p>From the foreground where they sat flushed and resting, with moss and +rock and woodland about them, the prospect went off into distances where +mountain shadows fell across valleys, and other ridges were ranked row +on row. Still more remote was the vagueness of the horizon whose misty +violet merged with the robin's-egg blue of the sky.</p> + +<p>The girl stood, leaning against the tree, and her violet eyes were full +of imaginative light.</p> + +<p>Through lids half closed the boy looked at her. She was an exponent of +that world of which he had dreamed. He thought of the hall where he had +first seen her; of the silk and broadcloth, of the mahogany and silver; +of the whole setting which was home to her, and to him a place into +which he had come as a trespasser in homespun.</p> + +<p>Into the tempering of the crude ore came a new element. Asa Gregory had +been the fire, and so far Victor McCalloway had been the water. Now, +came the third factor of life's process—the oil; for there and then on +the hilltop he had fallen in love, and it was not until he was riding +home in the starlight that he stopped to consider the chances of +disaster.</p> + +<p>It had been a wonderful day, accepted without questioning; but now he +drew his horse suddenly to a stop and took his hat from his head. For a +time he sat there in his saddle, as unmoving as though he and the beast +he rode were inanimate parts of an equestrian group; the statue of a +pioneer lad rough-mounted.</p> + +<p>His face stiffened painfully, and he licked his lips. Finally he said to +the dark woods where the whippoorwills were calling and the fireflies +flickering:</p> + +<p>"Great God! I mout jest as well fall in love with a star up thar in +heaven." Something like a groan escaped him, and after a while he +gathered up his reins. Again he spoke, but in a dull voice:</p> + +<p>"I'll quit afore I get in too far. Tomorrow night I'll go over thar and +'set up' with Happy Spradling."</p> + +<p>He remembered how they had laughed at him at college when, quite +naturally, he had used that term, "settin' up with a gal," to express +the idea of courtship. Now he laughed himself, but bitterly. That was +what his own people called it, and, after all, it was better to remember +that he was of his own people.</p> + +<p>The next night Boone kept his word. He brushed his clothes and did what +he could with the unruly crispness of his hair, and then he set out for +the log house of Cyrus Spradling on the headwaters of Snag Ridge.</p> + +<p>He was not going on this, his first formal visit to a girl, with such +leaping pulses as might have been expected. He was following out an +almost grim determination quite devoid of eagerness. Having lost his +heart to royalty, he was now bent on forcing himself back into a society +where he had a right to be.</p> + +<p>He had not slept much that night after the excursion to Slag-face, and +what sleep he had had, had been troubled by dreams in which Anne had +stood smiling down on him from the mountain top, while he looked up from +a deep gorge where the shadows lay black. He was driven by a mad sense +of necessity to climb up and stand beside her—but always he slid back, +or fell from narrow ledges, until he was bruised, bleeding—and +unsuccessful. He woke up panting, and afterward dreamed the same thing +over. And every time he fell he found Happy waiting in the gorge and +saying, "Why don't ye stay here with me? You don't have to climb after +me—and I'm a right pretty gal." Always too he answered, in the words +that Anne had used, "Why do I want to go up there? Up there you'd be +looking down on everything but the clouds themselves"—and he would +begin climbing once more, clutching with raw fingers upon frail and +slippery supports.</p> + +<p>All day he had argued with himself, and being young and unversed in such +problems he told himself that the only way to halt this runaway thing +within himself that led to no hope was to set his heart upon something +which lay in reach. His inexperience told him that Happy liked him; that +she was a nice girl trying to better her condition in life as he was +himself trying, and he meant to commandeer his own heart and lay it at +her feet. It was, of course, an absurd and impossible thing to +undertake, but this he must learn for himself.</p> + +<p>As Boone reached the house, old man Spradling sat on his porch in the +twilight with his cob pipe between his teeth. Cyrus remained what his +"fore-parents" had been before him, a rough-hewn man of undeviating +honesty and of an innate kindliness that showed out only in deeds and +not at all in demonstrativeness.</p> + +<p>Just now he wore an expression of countenance that was somewhat glum as +he watched the lingering afterglow which edged the western crests of the +"Kaintuck' Ridges" with pale amber.</p> + +<p>"Set ye a cheer, Booney," he invited, with a brief nod. "I reckon ye +didn't skeercely fare over hyar ter set an' talk with me, but ther gal +hain't quite through holpin' her mammy with the dish-washin' yit—an' I +wants ter put some questions ter ye afore she comes out."</p> + +<p>The lad drew a hickory-withed chair forward and sat down, laying his hat +on the floor at his feet.</p> + +<p>"Ye've done been off ter college, son," began old Cyrus reflectively, as +he bit on his pipe stem and judicially nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"I've always countenanced book-lore myself, even when folks hes faulted +me fer hit. I've contended thet ther times change an' what was good +enough fer ther parents hain't, of needcessity, good enough fer ther +young ones. 'Peared like, ter me, a body kinderly hes a better chanst +ter be godly ef he hain't benighted."</p> + +<p>"I reckon there ain't no two ways about that proposition," agreed the +boy eagerly. "Hit just stands ter reason."</p> + +<p>"An yit, hyar latterly," suggested the mountaineer dubiously, "I've done +commenced ter misdoubt ef I've been right, atter all. Thet's what I +wanted ter question ye about. My woman an' me, we sent Happy off ter +thet new school in Leslie—an' since she's come home I misdoubts ef her +name fits her es well es hit did afore she went over thar. She used ter +sing like a bird all day—an' now she don't."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how knowin' something can make a body unhappy," protested +Boone.</p> + +<p>Cyrus Spradling studied him with a keen, but not unkindly, fixedness of +gaze.</p> + +<p>"Ye don't, don't ye? Wa'al, let me norrate ye a leetle parable. Suppose +you an' me hes done been pore folks livin' in a small dwellin'-house. +We've done been plum content, because we hain't never knowed nothing +better. But suppose one of us goes a'visitin' ter rich kin-folks—an' +t'other one stays home." He paused there to rekindle his pipe, and the +voice of his resumed "parable" was troubled.</p> + +<p>"Ther one thet's been away hes done took up notions of wealth that he +kain't nuver hope ter satisfy. The mean cabin seems a heap meaner when +he comes back ter hit—but ther other pore damn fool—he's still happy +an' contented because he don't know no better."</p> + +<p>"I reckon," laughed the young visitor, "if the feller that had gone away +was anything but the disablest body in the world, he'd set about +improving the house he had to dwell in."</p> + +<p>"I hope ter God ye're right, Booney. Hit's been a mighty sober thing fer +me ter ponder over, though—whether I was helpin' my gal or hurtin' +her."</p> + +<p>Boone was smitten with a sense of guilt. He felt that he ought to make +confession that he had come here tonight because he had already +recognized a new flame in his heart, and a flame which the voice of +sanity and wisdom told him he must quench: that he was here because +discontent had driven him. But his voice was firm as he made some +commonplace reply, and Cyrus nodded his satisfaction. "Mebby if thar's a +few boys like thet, growin' up hyarabouts, ther few gals thet gits +larnin' won't be foredoomed ter lead lonesome lives, atter all."</p> + +<p>The moonlight was beginning to convert the dulness of twilight into a +nocturne of soft and tempered beauty.</p> + +<p>Boone felt suddenly appalled, as if the father had given him parental +recognition and approval, and laid upon him an obligation. He wanted to +rise and frame some excuse for immediate flight, but it was of course +too late for that.</p> + +<p>The evening star came up over the dark contours of the ridge. It shone +soft and lustrous in the sky, where other stars would soon add their +myriad points of light, but however many others might fill the heavens +there would still be only one evening star—and Boone, as he waited for +one girl, fell to thinking of the other with whom he had climbed +Slag-face yesterday; the girl who had set fire to his young imagination.</p> + +<p>Then Happy came out of the door and soon after the father went in. +"Thar hain't no place fer an ign'rant old feller like me, out hyar +amongst ther young an' wise," he chuckled as he left them. "I reckon ye +aims ter talk algebry an' sich-like."</p> + +<p>The mountains were great upward sweeps of velvet darkness. Down in the +slopes, where the moonlight fell, was a bath of silver and shadows, not +dead and inky but blue and living, but Happy Spradling, keyed to the +emotional influences of that June evening, found herself labouring with +a distrait and unresponsive visitor, who made an early excuse for +departure.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + + +<p>Beyond the goal of getting through college in three years, Boone had +planned his future but vaguely. He might seek election to the +Legislature, when he came of qualifying age, and strive upwards from +that beginning toward Congress and the larger rewards of a political +life. For such a career the law was a necessary preparation, so while he +was still in college he began its reading.</p> + +<p>Whenever he went home from the university he saw Happy, and in the tacit +fashion of simple souls their neighbourhood fell to speaking of "Boone +and Happy," as though the linking of their names was natural and +logical, and in local gossip it was almost as though they were +betrothed.</p> + +<p>Happy had other suitors, more than a few of them indeed, drawn to the +Spradling house by her beauty. Along those neighbourhood creeks, from +the trickles where they "headed up" to the mouths where they emptied, +there were few girls who could hope to compete with her loveliness of +sloe-eyes, dusky hair and slender grace of body. But the old wives shook +their heads, saying, "Happy Spradling wouldn't hurt a fly—but jest ther +same she's breakin' hearts right an' left because she's mortgaged ter +Boone Wellver—an' she's jest a'waitin' fer him."</p> + +<p>Old Cyrus already looked on him as a son—and Boone spoke as little of +Anne Masters as he would have spoken of the things sealed in Masonic +secrecy.</p> + +<p>Happy's school was one which arranged its terms and vacations in +accordance with local exigencies. Crop planting and gathering had the +right of way over text-books, and so it happened that when Anne was at +Marlin Town, Happy was usually at school—and their ways did not cross.</p> + +<p>Yet each summer, too, as a man may go from the provinces to court and +yet not delude himself with the hallucination that he is a courtier, +Boone went over to Marlin Town. For every summer Anne Masters came for a +few weeks to visit the father, who held his position there, remote from +the things that, to his thinking, made up the values of life.</p> + +<p>During these periods Boone found life a strange and paradoxical pattern, +woven of a web of ecstasy and a woof of torture. Since that night when +he had dragged suddenly at his bridle curb and had told himself, "I +might as well fall in love with a star up there in heaven," he had never +departed from his resolute conviction that it would be sheer insanity +for him to entertain any thought of Anne, save that of the willing and +faithful slave who would joyously have laid his life down for her.</p> + +<p>She dominated his world of boyhood dreams, and since he was not deaf to +the talk about himself and "Cyrus Spradling's gal," he wondered if he +ought not to tell Happy the whole truth. But after long reflection he +shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It would only hurt Happy, like telling her about dreams that come at +night—of some sort of heaven where I don't see her, herself." And so he +did not tell her.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>One day in the spring of the year when Anne was sixteen, Mrs. Larry +Masters dropped into the office of her kinsman, Tom Wallifarro, to talk +over some small matter of business. It was one of the regrets of the +lady's life—a life somewhat touched and frost-bitten by +bitterness—that all of her business was small. It was, however, one of +her compensations that this gentleman gave to her petty affairs as much +care and consideration as to the major features of his large practice.</p> + +<p>"My dear," observed the Colonel irrelevantly as he looked at the weary +eyes of the woman who had in her day been an almost famous beauty, "you +seem worried. You are altogether too young to let lines creep into your +face."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Masters laughed mirthlessly.</p> + +<p>"I have a daughter growing up. I am ambitious for her. She has charm, +grace, breeding—and she's the poor member of a rich family. Such things +bring wrinkles around maternal eyes, Cousin Tom."</p> + +<p>"Happily she lives in Kentucky," the lawyer reminded his visitor. "We +are yet provincial enough to think something of blood, even when it's +not gilded with money."</p> + +<p>"Yes, thank God—and thanks to you, she has had educational advantages. +If Larry had only had business sense—but I can't talk patiently about +Larry."</p> + +<p>"No—I wish you could bring yourself to think of him more indulgently, +but—" Colonel Tom knew the fruitlessness of that line of counsel, so he +brushed lightly by to other topics. "But that isn't what I wanted to +talk about. I think Morgan ought to travel abroad for several months, +don't you?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Masters sighed. There was a thought in her mind which had long been +there. If Morgan and Anne could be brought to a fancy for each other, +her problem in life would be settled. The girl would no longer be a +charity child. But what she said was an amendment to the original +thought. "Isn't he a bit inexperienced—and headstrong yet, to be turned +loose alone in Europe?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel's eyes twinkled. "I mean to have a check-rein on him."</p> + +<p>"What fashion of check-rein, Cousin Tom?"</p> + +<p>"I thought," said the lawyer off-handedly, since he always surrounded +his beneficences with a show of the casual, "that it would be a good +thing for Anne too. Now if you and she and Morgan made a European trip +together, the responsibility of two ladies on his hands would steady the +young scapegrace."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Masters almost gasped in her effort to control her delighted +astonishment. Morgan had always thought of Anne as a "kid" to be teased +and badgered, and of himself as a very finished and mature young +gentleman. Now they would see each other in a new guise. Their eyes +might be opened. In short, the possibilities were immense.</p> + +<p>"Your goodness to us—" she began feelingly, but the Colonel cleared his +throat and raised a hand in defence against the embarrassment of verbal +gratitude.</p> + +<p>A month later the three sat in the <i>salle-a-manger</i> of the Elysée Palace +Hotel, by a window that commanded a view of the Arc de Triomphe, and +many things had happened. Among them was the surprising discovery by the +young man, that while few eyes seemed concerned with him, many turned +toward Anne, and having turned, lingered.</p> + +<p>Only last night they had been to a dance, and Anne had been so occupied +with uniforms that she had found no time to waltz with him—though he +was sure that he danced circles about these stiff-kneed gentry with +petty titles.</p> + +<p>Now over the <i>petit déjeuner</i> he took his young and inconsiderate cousin +to task.</p> + +<p>"Last night, Anne, I camped on your trail all evening, and you couldn't +manage to slip me in one dance. Nothing would do but goggling Britishers +and smirking frog-eaters. I'm getting jolly well fed up with these +foreigners."</p> + +<p>Anne lifted her brows, but her eyes sparkled mischief.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Morgan, I can dance with you any time," she assured him. "You're +just kin-folks. Is it because you're 'jolly well fed up' with foreigners +that you like to ape English slang?"</p> + +<p>The young man blushed hotly, but he chose to ignore the question with +which she had capped her response. Inasmuch as it was a fair hit, he had +need to ignore it, but his eyes snapped with furious indignation. "Anne, +I don't understand you," he announced in a carefully schooled voice. +"You can play with absurd little dignitaries, or with mountain +illiterates—anything abnormal—but for your own blood—" He paused +there a moment, searching his abundant and sophomoric vocabulary for the +exact combination of withering words; and, while he hesitated, she +interrupted in a tone which was both quiet and ominous:</p> + +<p>"Let's take up one thing at a time, Morgan. Just who is the illiterate +in the mountains?"</p> + +<p>"You know as well as I do—Boone Wellver."</p> + +<p>"Boone Wellver. I thought so. At all events, he's a man, even if he's +not quite twenty-one yet."</p> + +<p>"A man: that is to say, a specimen of the <i>genus homo</i>. So is the fellow +that brought in the eggs just now. So is the chap that drives the taxi." +The young aristocrat shrugged his shoulders and snapped his fingers in +excellent imitation of Gallic expressiveness; then as Anne's twinkle +reminded him of his being "jolly well fed up with foreigners," the +change in his tone became as abrupt as the break in a boy's altering +voice, and he added: "The point is that he's hardly a gentleman. I +commend his ambition—but there's something in birth as well. Unless you +attach some importance to the elegances and nuances of life, you are +only a member of the mob."</p> + +<p>"The elegances of life—as, for instance"—the dancing sparkle stole +mischievously back into the blue eyes and the voice took on a purring +softness—"as, for instance, the handling of the small sword—or fencing +foil?"</p> + +<p>Morgan rose petulantly from the table and pushed back his chair. "If you +ladies will excuse me," he announced with superdignity, "I will leave +you for a while to your own devices."</p> + +<p>Anne's laughter pursued him in exit with an echo of musical mockery.</p> + +<p>But that evening Mrs. Larry Masters posted a letter to Colonel Tom +Wallifarro.</p> + +<p>"Morgan has discovered Anne!" she said in part. "He has been too close +to her until now to realize her attractiveness; but she has been noticed +by other men, and at last Morgan is awake. They have quarrelled, and +next to making love that's the most significant of developments. My dear +kinsman and benefactor, you know what our mutual hope has been, and I +think its fulfilment is not so far away! Tonight when I sipped my +claret at dinner I drank a silent toast, 'To my girl and your boy.'"</p> + +<p>While Mrs. Masters was writing that note, her daughter was sitting at +another desk in the same room, and her letter was addressed to a +post-office back of Cedar Mountain.</p> + +<p>When Boone received that second missive, he turned the envelope over in +his hand and gazed at it for a long while. Even then he did not open it +until he sat alone in a place where the forests were silent, save for +the call of a blue-jay and the diligent rapping of a "cock of the woods" +who was sapping and mining for grubs.</p> + +<p>The boy held between thumb and forefinger an envelope of a sort he had +never seen before, of thin outer paper over a dark coloured lining. In +one corner was a stamp of the French Republic, and there in writing that +had crossed the sea was his name and address.</p> + +<p>"She found time to write to me," he said rapturously to himself, and +then dropping intentionally and whimsically into his old, childhood +speech he added, nodding his head sagely to a pert squirrel that frisked +its tail near by, "She's done writ me a letter cl'ar from t'other +world."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was that same summer, when Anne had gone to Europe, that Boone came +back from college, very serious and taciturn, and McCalloway was prompt +to guess the reason.</p> + +<p>"You went down to Louisville, didn't you?" he inquired, as the two sat +by the doorstep on the day of the boy's return, and Boone nodded.</p> + +<p>The man did not nag him with questions. His seasoned wisdom contented +itself with smoking on in silence, and after a little the lad jerked his +head.</p> + +<p>"I reckon you know what took me there—sir."</p> + +<p>The final word came in afterthought. No mountaineer says "sir," by +habit.</p> + +<p>A part of that stubborn independence which is at once the virtue and the +fault of the race balks at even such small measure of implied +deference, but Boone had noticed that "down below," where courtesy +flowers into graciousness, the form of address was general.</p> + +<p>McCalloway responded slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can guess your errand there. How is he?"</p> + +<p>The boy's eyes gazed off across the slopes through contracted lids, and +his voice came in deliberate but repressed tenseness.</p> + +<p>"I hunted up Colonel Wallifarro's office and he went over there with +me.... I reckon, except for that, they wouldn't have let me see him."</p> + +<p>He paused, and the man thoughtfully observed, "No, I fancy not."</p> + +<p>"You go into that jail-house through a stone door, and there's a +rough-lookin' feller settin'—I mean sitting—there in front of another +door made of iron gratin's as thick as crowbars.... The place don't +smell good."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it well kept?" inquired McCalloway in some surprise, and the boy +hastily explained.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean that it plum stinks. I reckon it's as clean as a jail can +be, but the air is stale—even out on the street that lowland air is +flat.... It don't taste right in a man's throat.... Asa was reared up +here in these free hills. He's like a caged hawk down there."</p> + +<p>The soldier nodded sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"Did he—seem well?"</p> + +<p>"He hasn't sickened none ... but his face used to be right colourful.... +Now it's pale ... and sort of gray-like.... Of course a turnkey went +along with us, and we didn't talk with him by himself.... I reckon he +didn't say none of the things he craved most to say.... He was right +silent-like."</p> + +<p>The boy broke off, and for a while the two sat in silence. When Boone +took up the thread of his narrative again, there was something like a +catch in his throat.</p> + +<p>"They were pretty polite to us there.... They showed us all over the +place ... they even took us to the death row.... There was a nigger in +there that was goin' ter be hung next morning at daybreak.... I reckon +he's dead now.... A feller kept walkin' back and forth in front of that +cell ... and an electric light was burnin' there full bright.... That +nigger, neither night ner day ... could ever git away from that +light.... They were afraid he might seek ter kill hisself.... He come +ter the bars an' said, 'Howdy, white folks,' ... an' then he went back +an' sat down on the ledge that he sleeps on."</p> + +<p>The recital, painfully punctuated with its frequent pauses, halted +there. It was a matter of several minutes before it began again. Now the +voice was laboured, as if the speaker were panting for breath, and the +careful pronunciation relapsed wildly into the older and ruder forms of +solecism.</p> + +<p>"They tuck us out an' ... showed us the cement yard ... whar the gallows +stood.... It was painted a sort of brownish red.... It put me in mind of +dried blood. The nigger could hear the hammers whilest they set the +thing up.... Asa could hear 'em too.... Asa hed done seed ther scaffold +hisself ... through the winder-bars when ... he exercised ... in the +corrider.... But when I looked at the nigger thet's dead by now ... +seemed like it was Asa I saw ... with thet lamp glarin' in on him, +daylight and night time alike...." The voice leaped into a soblike +vehemence. "Thet's what Judas money dogged him to! Seemed like ... I +couldn't endure it!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + + +<p>So if the time ever came when Boone stood face to face with Saul Fulton, +it would, for all the amendment of his new life, be a moment of +desperate crisis. The pig iron of his half-savage beginning had been +made malleable and held promise of tempered and flexible steel—but the +metal was still feudist ore. McCalloway comforted himself with the +reflection that Saul was not likely to return, but did not delude +himself into forgetting that strange perversity which seems to draw the +mountaineer inevitably back to his crags and woods, even in the face of +innumerable perils. Some day Saul might attempt to slip back, and Boone +would almost inevitably hear of his coming. Then for a day or an hour, +the lad might relapse into his old self, even to the forgetting of his +pledge. Such an inconsidered day or an hour would be enough to wreck his +life.</p> + +<p>Carefully and adroitly, therefore, McCalloway played upon the softer +strings of life, and sometimes, to that end, he opened a hitherto closed +door upon the events of his own life, and let his protégé look in on +glimpses that were sacredly guarded from other eyes.</p> + +<p>One summer night, for example, Boone laid down a book and said suddenly, +"It tells here about a fellow winning the Star of India and the Victoria +Cross. I'd love to see one of those medals."</p> + +<p>Silently McCalloway rose and went over to the folding desk, to come back +with his battered dispatch box. He unlocked it and laid out before the +boy not one decoration, but several. The ribbons were somewhat faded +now, and the metal tarnished; but Boone bent forward, and his face +glowed with the exaltation of one admitted to precincts that are +sacrosanct. For a long while he studied the maltese cross with its +lion-surmounted crown and its supporting bar chased with rose leaves; +the cross that bears the Queen's name, for which men brave death. Beside +it lay the oval, showing Victoria's profile, and the gilt inscription on +a blue enamelled margin: "Heaven's Light Our Guide." A star caught it to +its white-edged blue riband—and that was the coveted Star of India.</p> + +<p>Here before his eyes—eyes that burned eagerly—were the priceless +trifles that he had never hoped to see. The modest gentleman who had, +for his sake, relinquished fresh honours in China, had won them, and +until now had never spoken of them, but Boone knew that they are not +lightly gained—and that in no way can they be bought.</p> + +<p>A sudden and unaccountable mistiness blurred his sight.</p> + +<p>"I'm obliged to you, sir," he said seriously. "I know you don't often +show them."</p> + +<p>He had meant to say nothing more than that, but youth's questioning urge +mastered his resolution, so that he put an interrogation very slowly, +half fearing it might seem an impertinence.</p> + +<p>"You told me once, sir, that I might ask whatever questions I liked—and +that you would refuse to answer when <i>you</i> felt like it. I'm going to +ask one now—but I reckon I oughtn't to." Again there was a diffident +pause, but the sincere blue eyes were unwaveringly steady as they met +the gray ones.</p> + +<p>"Do you reckon, sir, the day will ever come—when I can know the real +name—of the man I owe—pretty nigh everything to?"</p> + +<p>McCalloway blinked his eyes, which this cub of a boy had a way of +tricking into unsoldierly emotion, and resolutely set his features into +immobility.</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I'm afraid not," he answered with a gruffness that in no way +deceived his questioner. "McCalloway is as good a name as any—I'm +afraid, at all events, it will have to serve to the end."</p> + +<p>Slowly and gravely the lad nodded his head. "All right, sir," he +declared. "It was just curiosity, anyhow. The name I know you by is good +enough for me."</p> + +<p>But McCalloway was disquietingly moved. He rose and replaced the +dispatch box on its shelf, and after that paced the room for a few +moments with quick, restive strides. Then his voice came with an +impulsive suddenness. "There's a paper in that dispatch box ... that +would answer your question, Boone," he said. "I tell you because I want +you to realize how entirely I trust you. It's the secret chamber of my +Bluebeard establishment. While I live it must remain locked."</p> + +<p>After a moment he added, "If I should die ... and you still want to +know—then you may open the box ... but even then what you learn is for +yourself alone, and I want that you shall destroy all those documents +and whisper no word whatever of their contents to any living soul."</p> + +<p>"I promise, sir," declared the boy, "on my honour."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When August had brought the yellow masses of the golden-rod and the +rusty purple of the ironweed; when the thistles were no longer a sting +to the touch but down drifting along the lightest breeze, two horses +stopped at McCalloway's fence, and a girl's voice called out, "Can we +come in?"</p> + +<p>Boone had not known that Anne Masters was back on this side of the +Atlantic, nor had he ventured to hope that she would find time to come +up here into the hills before the summer ended, but the voice had +brought him out to the stile, as swiftly as a cry for help could have +done. Now he stood, looking up at her as she sat in her saddle, with a +blaze of worship in his blue eyes that went far to undo all the +self-restraint with which he had so studiously hedged about his speech +and manner. Surprise has undone many wary generals. So his eyes made +love to her, even while his lips remained guarded of utterance.</p> + +<p>"I didn't have any idea that you were on this side of the world," he +declared. "It's just plum taken my breath away from me to see you +sitting right there on that horse."</p> + +<p>Larry Masters had dismounted and was hitching his mule. Now he turned to +inquire, "Where's Mr. McCalloway?"</p> + +<p>The boy had momentarily forgotten the existence of his patron. He had +forgotten all things but one, and now he laughed with guilty +realization.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I'll have to ask your pardon, sir. I was so astonished that I +forgot to tell you he wasn't here. He's gone fishing—and I'm afraid he +won't be back before sundown."</p> + +<p>"Well, we've ridden across the mountain and we're tired. If you don't +mind we'll wait for him."</p> + +<p>Anne reached down into her saddle bags and produced a small, neatly +wrapped package.</p> + +<p>"I brought you a present," she announced with a sudden diffidence, and +Boone remembered how once before, as he stood by a fence, she had spoken +almost the same words. Then, too, she had been looking down on him from +the superior position of one mounted. He wondered if she remembered, and +in excellent mimicry of his old boyish awkwardness he said, "Thet war +right charitable of ye.... Hit's ther fust present I ever got—from +acrost ther ocean-sea."</p> + +<p>Anne's laugh rippled out, and she followed suit—quoting herself from +the memory of other years:</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, it isn't that at all. Please don't think it's charity." Then +she slid down and watched him as he unwrapped and investigated his gift; +a miniature bust of Bonaparte, the Conqueror, in Parian marble. The +light August breeze stirred the curls against her cheeks with a delicate +play—but they stirred against the boy's heart with the power of +lightning and tornado.</p> + +<p>Anne was at her father's house for several weeks, and scarcely a day of +that time did her vassal fail to ride across the mountain, but those +hours squandered together were fleet of wing. McCalloway smiled +observantly and held his counsel. The charm and gaiety of Anne's bright +personality would do more to dispel the menace of gloom from the dark +corners of the boy's nature, where tendencies of melancholy lurked, than +all his own efforts and wisdom. Later there would come an aftermath of +bitter heartache, for between them lay the fortified frontier which +separates red blood and blue; the demarcation of the contrary codes of +Jubal and Tubal Cain, but at that thought the soldier shrugged his +shoulders with a ripe philosophy. Just now the girl's influence was +precisely what the lad needed. Later, when perhaps he needed something +else, he would take his punishment with decent courage, and even the +punishment would do him good. A blade is not forged and tempered without +being pounded between anvil and sledge—and if Boone could not stand +it—then Boone could not realize the dreams which McCalloway built for +his future.</p> + +<p>The wisdom of middle-age can treat, as ephemeral, disasters in which +first love can contemplate only incurable scars. Boone himself regarded +the golden present as an era for which the whole future must pay with +unrelieved levies of black despair.</p> + +<p>It was chiefly as he rode home at night that he faced this death's-head +future with young lips stiffening and eyes narrowed. In the morning +sunlight, or through woods that sobbed with rain, he went buoyant, +because then he was going toward her, and whatever the indefinite future +held in store, he had that day assured with all its richness.</p> + +<p>None-the-less, Boone played the game as he saw it, with the guiding +instincts of a gentleman. Because it was all a wonderful dream, doomed +to an eventual awakening, he sealed his lips against love-making.</p> + +<p>Anne was taking him for granted, he reasoned. He had simply become a +local necessity to a bright nature, overflowing with vital and +companionable impulses.</p> + +<p>As vassal he gladly and proudly offered himself, and as vassal she +frankly and without analysis accepted him. Should he let slip the check +upon his control, and go to mooning about love, instead of meeting her +laughter with his laughter and her jest with his jest, she would send +him away into a deserved exile.</p> + +<p>On the day before Anne was to leave they were on the great pinnacle rock +above Slag-face, and by now Boone had come to regard that as the lofty +shrine where he had discovered love. Afterwards it would stand through +the years as a spot of hallowed memories.</p> + +<p>Anne had been talking with vivacious enthusiasm of the things she had +seen abroad, and Boone had followed her with rapt attentiveness. She had +a natural gift for vivid description, and he had seemed to stand with +her, by moonlight in the ruins of the Coliseum, and to look out with her +from the top of Cheops' pyramid over the sands of Ghizeh and the ribbon +of the Nile.</p> + +<p>But at last they had fallen silent, and with something like a sigh the +girl said, "Tomorrow I go back to Louisville."</p> + +<p>He had forgotten that for the moment, and he flinched at the reminder, +but his only reply was, "And in a few days I've got to go back to +Lexington. I always miss the hills down there."</p> + +<p>Her violet eyes challenged him with full directness, "Won't you +miss—anything else?"</p> + +<p>Boone, who was looking at her, closed his eyes. He was sure that they +would betray him, and when he ventured to open them again he had +prudently averted his gaze. But though he looked elsewhere, he still saw +her. He saw the hair that had enmeshed his heart like a snare, saw the +eyes that held an inner sparkle—which was for him an altar fire.</p> + +<p>"I'm not the sort of feller that can help missing his friends," he +guardedly said, but his tongue felt dry and unwieldy.</p> + +<p>Usually people were not so niggardly as that with their compliments to +Anne, and as she held a half-piqued silence Boone knew that she was +offended, so his next question came with a stammering incertitude.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> a friend of mine, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>She rose then from the rock where she had been sitting and stood there +lance-like, with her chin high and her glance averted. To his question +she offered no response save a short laugh, until the pulses in his +temples began to throb, and once more he closed his eyes as one +instinctively closes them under a wave of physical pain.</p> + +<p>Boone had made valiant and chivalrous resolves of silence, but he had +heard a laugh touched with bitterness from lips upon which bitterness +was by nature alien.</p> + +<p>"Anne!" he exclaimed in a frightened tone, "what made you laugh like +that?"</p> + +<p>Then she wheeled, and her words came torrentially. There was anger and +perplexity and a little scorn in her voice but also a dominant +disappointment.</p> + +<p>"I mean, Boone Wellver, that I don't know how to take you. Sometimes I +think you really like me—lots. Not just lumped in with everybody that +you can manage to call a friend. I have no use for lukewarm +friendships—I'd rather have none at all. You seem to be in deadly fear +of spoiling me with your lordly favour."</p> + +<p>The boy stood before her with a face that had grown ashen. It seemed +incredible to him that she could so misconstrue his attitude; an +attitude based on hard and studied self-control.</p> + +<p>"You think that, do you?" he inquired in a low voice, almost fierce in +its intensity. "Do you think I'm fool enough not to take thankfully what +I can get, without crying for the moon?"</p> + +<p>"What has the moon to do with it?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>But the vow of silence which Boone had taken with the grave solemnity of +a Trappist monk was no longer a dependable bulwark. The dam had broken.</p> + +<p>"Just this," he said soberly. "You're as far out of my reach as the moon +itself. You say I seem afraid to tell you that I really like you. I <i>am</i> +afraid. I'm so mortally afraid that I'd sworn I'd never tell you.... God +knows that I couldn't start talking about that without saying the whole +of it. I can't say I like you because I don't like you—I love you—I +love you like—" The rapid flood of words broke off in abrupt silence. +Then the boy raised his hands and let them fall again in a gesture of +despair. "There isn't anything in the world to liken it to," he +declared.</p> + +<p>Anne's eyes had widened in astonishment. She said nothing at all, and +Boone waited, steeling himself against the expected sentence of exile. +Nothing less than banishment, he had always told himself, could be the +penalty of such an outburst.</p> + +<p>"Now," he continued in a bitter desperation, "I've done what I said I'd +never do. I've foresworn myself and told you that I love you. I might as +well finish ... because I reckon I can guess what <i>you'll</i> say +presently. From the first day when you came here, I've been in love with +you.... I've never seen the evening star rise up over the Kaintuck' +Ridges that I haven't looked at it ... and thought of it as your own +star.... I've never seen it either that I haven't said to myself, 'You +might as well love that star,' and I've tried just to live from hour to +hour when I was with you and not think about the day when you'd be gone +away."</p> + +<p>Anne still stood with wide and questioning eyes, but no anger had come +into them yet. Her voice shook a little as she asked, "Just why do you +think of me that way, Boone? Why am I—so far—out of reach?"</p> + +<p>"Why!"—his question was an exclamation of amazement. "You've seen that +cabin where I was born, haven't you? You know what your people call my +people, don't you?... 'Poor white trash!' Between you and me there's a +gorge two hundred years wide. Your folks are those that won the West, +and mine are those that fell by the roadside and petered out and dry +rotted."</p> + +<p>As he finished the speech which had been such a long one for him, he +stood waiting. Into the unsteady voice with which she put her last +question he had read the reserve of controlled anger—such as a just +judge would seek to hold in abeyance until everything was said. So he +braced himself and tried not to look at her—but he felt that the length +of time she held him in that tight-drawn suspense was a shade +cruel—unintentionally so, of course.</p> + +<p>The girl's face told him nothing either, at first, but slowly into the +eyes came that scornful gleam that he had sometimes seen there when he +sought to modify the risk involved in some reckless caprice of her own +suggesting: a disdain for all things calculatedly cautious.</p> + +<p>At last she spoke.</p> + +<p>"You could say every one of those things about Lincoln," was her +surprising pronunciamento. "You could say most of them about Napoleon or +any big man that won out on his own. When I brought you that little +bust, I thought you'd like it. I thought you had that same kind of a +spirit—and courage."</p> + +<p>"But, Anne—"</p> + +<p>"I didn't interrupt you," she reminded him. "My idea of a real man is +one who doesn't talk timidly about gorges—whether they're two hundred +years wide, as you call it, or not. Napoleon wouldn't have been let into +a kitchen door at court—so he came in through the front way with a +triumphal arch built over it. <i>He</i> knocked down barriers, and got what +he wanted."</p> + +<p>"Then—" his voice rang out suddenly—"then if I can ever get up to +where you stand I won't be 'poor white trash' to you?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head and her eyes glowed with invincible spirit. "You'll +be a man—that wasn't fainthearted," she told him honestly. "One that +was brave enough to live his own life as I mean to live my own."</p> + +<p>"Anne," he said fervently, "you asked me if I'd miss anything but the +hills. I'll miss <i>you</i>—like—all hell—because I love you like that."</p> + +<p>They were on a mountain top, with no one to see them. They were almost +children and inexperienced. They thought that they could lay down their +plans and build their lives in accordance, with no deflection of time or +circumstance. A few moments later they stood flushed with the +intoxication of that miracle that makes other miracles pallid. The +girl's breath came fast and her cheeks were pinkly flushed. The boy's +heart hammered, and the leagues of outspread landscape seemed a reeling, +whirling but ecstatically beautiful confusion. Their eyes held in a +silent caress, and for them both all subsequent things were to be dated +from that moment when he had impulsively taken her in his arms and she +had returned his first kiss.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + + +<p>General Basil Prince sat in his law office one murky December morning of +the year 1903. It was an office which bespoke the attorney of the older +generation, and about it hung the air of an unadorned workship. If one +compared it with the room in the same building where young Morgan +Wallifarro worked at a flat-topped mahogany table, one found the +difference between Spartan simplicity and sybarite elegance. But over +one book case hung an ancient and battered cavalry sword, a relic of the +days when the General had ridden with the "wizards of the saddle and the +sabre."</p> + +<p>Just now he was, for the second time, reading a letter which seemed to +hold for him a peculiar interest.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Dear General," it ran:</p> + +<p>"Your invitation to come to Louisville and meet at your table that +coterie of intimates of whom you have so often spoken is one that tempts +me strongly—and yet I must decline.</p> + +<p>"You know that my name is not McCalloway—and you do not know what it +is. I think I made myself clear on that subject when you waived the +circumstance that I am a person living in hermitage, because my life has +not escaped clouding. You generously accepted my unsupported statement +that no actual guilt tarnishes the name which I no longer use—yet +despite my eagerness to know those friends of yours, those gentlemen who +appeal so strongly to my imagination and admiration, I could not, in +justice to you or to myself, permit you to foist me on them under an +assumed name. I have resolved upon retirement and must stand to my +resolution. The discovery of my actual identity would be painful to me +and social life might endanger that.</p> + +<p>"I'll not deny that in the loneliness here, particularly when the boy is +absent, there are times when, for the dinner conversation of gentlemen +and ladies, I would almost pawn my hope of salvation. There are other +times, and many, when for the feel of a sabre hilt in my hand, for the +command of a brigade, or even a regiment, I would almost offer my blade +for hire—almost but not quite.</p> + +<p>"I must, however, content myself with my experiment; my wolf-cub.</p> + +<p>"You write of my kindness to him, but my dear General, it is the other +way about. It is he who has made my hermitage endurable, and filled in +the empty spaces of my life. My fantastic idea of making him the +American who starts the pioneer and ends the modern, begins to assume +the colour of plausibility.</p> + +<p>"I now look forward with something like dread to the time when he must +go out into a wider world. For then I cannot follow him. I shall have +reached the end of my tutorship. I do not think I can then endure this +place without him—but there are others as secluded.</p> + +<p>"But my dear General, the very cordial tone of your letters emboldens me +to ask a favour (and it is a large one), in this connection. When he has +finished his course at college I should like to have him read law in +Louisville. That will take him into a new phase of the development I +have planned. He will need strong counsel and true friends there, for he +will still be the pioneer with the rough bark on him, coming into a land +of culture, and, though he will never confess it, he will feel the sting +of class distinctions and financial contrasts.</p> + +<p>"There he will see what rapid transitions have left of the old South, +and despite the many changes, there still survives much of its spirit. +Its fragrant bouquet, its fine traditions, are not yet gone. God +willing, I hope he will even go further than that, and later know the +national phases as well as the sectional—but that, of course, lies on +the knees of the gods."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>General Prince laid down the letter and sat gazing thoughtfully at the +scabbarded sabre on the wall. Then he rose from his chair and went +along the corridors to a suite legended, "Wallifarro, Banks and +Wallifarro." The General paused to smile, for the last name had been +freshly lettered there, and he knew that it meant a hope fulfilled to +his old friend the Colonel. His son's name was on the door, and his son +was in the firm. But it was to the private office of Colonel Tom that he +went, and the Colonel shoved back a volume of decisions to smile his +welcome.</p> + +<p>"Tom," began the General, "I have a letter here that I want you to read. +I may be violating a confidence—but I think the writer would trust my +judgment in such a matter."</p> + +<p>Tom Wallifarro read the sheets of evenly penned chirography, and as he +handed them back he said musingly:</p> + +<p>"Under the circumstances, of course, it would not be fair to ask if you +have any guess as to who McCalloway is—or was. He struck me as a +gentleman of extraordinary interest—He is a man who has known +distinction."</p> + +<p>"That's why I came in this morning, Tom. I want you to know him +better—and to co-operate with me, if you will, about the boy. Since the +mountain can't come to Mahomet—"</p> + +<p>"We are to go there?" came the understanding response, and Basil Prince +nodded.</p> + +<p>"Precisely. I wanted you and one or two others of our friends to go down +there. I had in mind an idea that may be foolish—fantastic, even, for a +lot of old fellows like ourselves—but none the less interesting. I want +to give the chap a dinner in his own house."</p> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro smiled delightedly as he gave his ready sanction to +the plan. "Count me in, General, and call on me whenever you need me."</p> + +<p>It was not until January that the surprise party came to pass, and Basil +Prince and Tom Wallifarro had entered into their arrangements with all +the zest of college boys sharing a secret. Out of an idea of simple +beginnings grew elaborations as the matter developed, until there was +indeed a dash of the fantastic in the whole matter, and a touch, too, of +pathos. Because of McCalloway's admission that at times his hunger for +the refinements of life became a positive nostalgia, the plotters +resolved to stage, for that one evening, within the walls of hewn logs, +an environment full of paradox.</p> + +<p>Results followed fast. A hamper was filled from the cellars of the +Pendennis Club. Old hams appeared, cured by private recipes that had +become traditions. Napery and silver—even glass—came out of sideboards +to be packed for a strange journey. All these things were consigned long +in advance to Larry Masters at Marlin Town, where railway traffic ended +and "jolt wagon" transportation began. Aunt Judy Fugate, celebrated in +her day and generation as a cook, became an accessory before the fact. +In her house only a "whoop and a holler" distant from that of +McCalloway's, she received, with a bursting importance and a vast +secrecy, a store of supplies smuggled hither far more cautiously than it +had ever been needful to smuggle "blockade licker."</p> + +<p>Upon one pivotal point hinged the success of the entire conspiracy.</p> + +<p>Larry Masters must persuade McCalloway to visit him for a full day +before the date set, and must go back with him at the proper time. The +transformation of a log house into a banquet hall demands time and +non-interference. But there was no default in Masters's co-operation, +and on the appointed evening McCalloway and Larry rode up to the door of +the house and dismounted. Then the soldier halted by his fence-line and +spoke in a puzzled tone:</p> + +<p>"Strange—very strange—that there should be lights burning inside. I've +been away forty-eight hours and more. I dare say Aunt Judy has happened +in. She has a key to the place."</p> + +<p>Larry Masters hazarded no explanatory suggestion. The vacuous +expression upon his countenance was, perhaps, a shade overdone, but he +followed his host across the small yard to his door.</p> + +<p>On the threshold McCalloway halted again in a paralysed bewilderment. +Perhaps he doubted his own sanity for a moment, because of what he saw +within.</p> + +<p>The centre of the room was filled with a table, not rough, as was his +own, but snowy with damask, and asparkle with glass and silver, under +the softened light of many candles. So the householder stood bewildered, +pressing a hand against his forehead, and as he did so several gentlemen +rose from chairs before his own blazing hearth. When they turned to +greet him, he noticed, with bewilderment, that they were all in evening +dress.</p> + +<p>Basil Prince came smilingly around the table with an outstretched hand, +and an enlightening voice. "Since I am the original conspirator, sir, I +think I ought to explain. We are a few Mahomets who have come to the +mountain. Our designs upon you embrace nothing more hostile than a +dinner party."</p> + +<p>For a moment Victor McCalloway, for years now a recluse with itching +memories of a life that had been athrob with action and vivid with +colour, stood seeking to command his voice. His throat worked +spasmodically, and into the eyes that had on occasion been flint-hard +with sternness came a mist that he could not deny. He sought to welcome +them—and failed. Rarely had he been so profoundly touched, and all he +succeeded in putting into words, and that in an unnatural voice, was: +"Gentlemen—you must pardon me—if I fail to receive you properly—I +have no evening clothes."</p> + +<p>But their laughter broke the tension, and while he shook hands around, +thinking what difficulties must of necessity have been met in this +gracious display of cordiality, Moses, the negro butler from the +Wallifarro household, appeared from the kitchen door, bearing a tray of +cocktails.</p> + +<p>It was not until after two keenly effervescent hours of talk, laughter +and dining, when the cigars had been lighted, that Prince came to his +feet.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," he said, "I am not going to pledge the man who is both our +host and guest of honour, because I prefer to propose a sentiment we can +all drink, standing, including himself—I give you the success of his +gallant experiment—the Boy—Boone Wellver—'A toast to the +native-born!'"</p> + +<p>They rose amid the sound of chairs scraping back, and once more +McCalloway felt the contraction of his throat and the dimness in his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," he stammered, "I am grateful.... I think the boy is going +to be an American—not only a hillsman—not even only a Kentuckian or a +Southerner—though God knows either would be a proud enough title—but +an American who blends and fuses these fine elements. That, at all +events, is my hope and effort."</p> + +<p>He sat down hurriedly—and yet in other days he had spoken with polished +ease at tables where distinguished men and women were his fellow +diners—and it was then that Tom Wallifarro rose.</p> + +<p>"This was not to be a formal affair of set speeches," he announced in a +conversational tone, "but there is one more sentiment without which we +would rise leaving the essential thing unsaid. Some one has called these +mountain folk our 'contemporary ancestors'—men of the past living in +our day. This lad is, in that sense, of an older age. When he goes into +the world, he will need such advisors of the newer age as he has had +here in Mr. McCalloway—or at least pale imitations of Mr. McCalloway, +whose place no one can fill. We are here this evening for two pleasant +purposes. To dine with our friend, who could not come to us, and to +found an informal order. The Boone who actually lived two centuries ago +was the godfather of Kentucky.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, I give you the order of our own founding tonight: The +Godfathers of Boone."</p> + +<p>It was of course by coincidence, only, that the climax of that evening's +gathering should have been capped as it was. Probability would have +brought the last guests, whom no one there had expected, at any other +time, but perhaps the threads of destiny do not after all run haphazard. +Possibly it could only be into such a fantastic pattern that they could +ever have been woven.</p> + +<p>At all events it was that night they came: the two short men, with +narrow eyes, set in swarthy Oriental faces—such as those hills had not +before seen.</p> + +<p>There was a shout from the night; the customary mountain voice raised +from afar as the guide who had brought these visitors halloed from the +roadway: "I'm Omer Maggard ... an' I'm guidin' a couple of outlanders, +thet wants ter see ye."</p> + +<p>McCalloway went to the door and opened it, and because it was late the +guide turned back without crossing the threshold.</p> + +<p>But the two men who had employed his services to conduct them through +the night and along the thicketed roads entered gravely, and though they +too must have felt the irrational contrasts of the picture there, their +inscrutable almond eyes manifested no surprise.</p> + +<p>They were Japanese, and, as both bowed from the hips, one inquired in +unimpeachable English, "You are the Honourable Victor McCalloway?"</p> + +<p>If the former soldier had found it impossible to keep the mists of +emotion out of his pupils a little while ago, such was no longer the +case. His glance was now as stern in its inquisitorial questioning as +steel. It was not necessary that these gentlemen should state their +mission, to inform him that their coming carried a threat for his +incognito, but he answered evenly:</p> + +<p>"I am so called."</p> + +<p>"I have the honour to present the Count Oku ... and myself Itokai."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + + +<p>When general introductions had followed, the Count Itokai smiled, with a +flash of white and strong teeth.</p> + +<p>"We have come to present a certain matter to you—but we find you +entertaining guests—so the business can wait."</p> + +<p>The courtesy of manner and the precision of inflection had the +perfection of Japanese officialdom, but McCalloway's response succeeded +in blending with an equal politeness a note of unmistakable aloofness.</p> + +<p>"As you wish, gentlemen, though there is no matter concerning myself +which might not be discussed in the presence of these friends."</p> + +<p>"Assuredly!" This time it was Oku who spoke. "It is unfortunate that +we are not at liberty to be more outspoken. The matter is one of +certain ... information ... which we hope you can give us ... and +which is official: not personal with ourselves."</p> + +<p>Masters made the move. "I'll pop out and see that your horses are +stabled. Gentlemen—" he turned to the others—"it's a fine frosty +night ... shall we finish our cigars in the open air?"</p> + +<p>With deprecating apology the two newcomers watched them go, and when the +place had been vacated save for the three, McCalloway turned and bowed +his guests to chairs before the hearth.</p> + +<p>It had been a strange picture before. It was stranger now, augmented by +these two squat figures with dark faces, high cheek bones, and wiry +black hair: Japanese diplomats sitting before a Cumberland mountain +hearth-stone.</p> + +<p>"Excellency," began the Count Oku promptly, "I am authorized by my +government to proffer you a commission upon the staff of the army of +Nippon."</p> + +<p>McCalloway's eyes narrowed. He had not seated himself but had preferred +to remain non-committally standing, and now his figure stiffened and his +lips set themselves.</p> + +<p>"Count," he said almost curtly, "before we talk at all, you must be +candid with me. If I choose to live in solitude, any intrusion upon that +privacy should be with my consent. May I inquire how the name of Victor +McCalloway has chanced to become known and of interest to the Government +of Japan?"</p> + +<p>The diplomatic agent bowed.</p> + +<p>"The question is in point, Excellency. Unhappily I am unable to answer +it. What is known to my government I cannot say. I can only relate what +has been delegated to me."</p> + +<p>"I take it you can, at least, do that."</p> + +<p>"We have been told that a gentleman who for reasons of his own prefers +to use the name of Victor McCalloway, had formerly a title more widely +known."</p> + +<p>This time McCalloway's voice was sharply edged.</p> + +<p>"However that may be, I have now only one name, Victor McCalloway."</p> + +<p>"That we entirely understand. Some few years back my government, in an +effort to encourage Europeanizing the Chinese army, attempted to enlist +your honourable services. Is that not true?"</p> + +<p>McCalloway nodded but, as he did so, anger blazed hotly in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"To know more about a gentleman, in private life, than he cares to +state, constitutes a grave discourtesy, sirs. Whatever activities my +soldiering has included, I have never been a mercenary. I have fought +only under my own flag and my sword is not for hire!"</p> + +<p>The Orientals rose and again they bowed, but this time the voice of the +Count Oku dropped away its soft sheath of diplomatic suavity and, though +it remained low of pitch, it carried now a ring of purpose and +positiveness.</p> + +<p>"The officer who fights for a cause is not a soldier of fortune, +Excellency. The flag of the Rising Sun has a cause."</p> + +<p>"Japan is at peace with the world. Military service can be for a cause +only when it is active."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Japan is at peace with the world—now!" The voice came sharply, +almost sibilantly, with the aspirates of the race. "I am authorized to +state to you that service with our high command will none the less be +active—and before many months have passed. I am further authorized to +state to you that the foe will be a traditional enemy of Great Britain: +that our interests will run parallel with those of the British +Empire—If you take service under the Sun flag, Excellency, it will be +against foes of the Cross of St. George."</p> + +<p>The two Japanese stood very erect, their beady eyes keenly agleam. +Slowly, and subconsciously, Victor McCalloway too drew his shoulders +back, as though he were reviewing a division. He was hearing the +Russo-Japanese War forecast weeks before it burst like shrapnel on an +astonished world.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," he said gravely, "you must grant me leisure for thought. +This is a most serious matter."</p> + +<p>A half hour later, with cigars glowing, the guests from Japan and the +guests from Louisville sat about the hearth, but on none of the faces +was there any trace of the unusual or of a knowledge of great secrets.</p> + +<p>In all truth, Mahomet had come to the mountain.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Boone had not long returned from his Christmas vacation. So when he came +into his dormitory room from his classes one afternoon and found his +patron awaiting him there with a grave face, he was somewhat mystified, +until with a soldier's precision McCalloway came to his point.</p> + +<p>"My boy," he said, "I have come here to have a very serious talk with +you."</p> + +<p>Boone's face, which had flushed into pleasurable surprise at the sight +of his visitor, fell at the gravity of the voice. He guessed at once +that this was the preface to such an announcement as he always dreaded +in secret, and his own words came heavily.</p> + +<p>"I reckon you mean—that you aim to—go away."</p> + +<p>"I aim to talk to you about going away."</p> + +<p>Boone rallied his sinking spirits as he announced with a creditable +counterfeit of cheerfulness, "All right, sir; I'm listening."</p> + +<p>For a while the older man talked on. He was sitting in the plain room of +the dormitory—and his gaze was fixed off across the snow-patched +grounds, and the scattered buildings of the university.</p> + +<p>He did not often look at the boy, who had grown into his heart so deeply +that the idea of a parting carried a barb for both. He thought that +Boone could discuss this matter with greater ease if the eyes of another +did not lay upon him the necessity of maintaining a stoical +self-repression.</p> + +<p>McCalloway for the first time traced out in full detail the plan that he +had conceived for Boone: the fantastic dream of his pilgrimage in one +generation along the transitional road his youthful nation had travelled +since its birth. As he listened, the young man's eyes kindled with +imagination and gratitude difficult to express. He had been, he thought, +ambitious to a fault, but for him his preceptor had been far more +ambitious. The horizons of his aspiration widened under such confidence, +but he could only say brokenly, "You're setting me a mighty big task, +sir. If I can do any part of it, I'll owe it all to you."</p> + +<p>"We aren't here to compliment each other, my boy," replied McCalloway +bluntly. "But if I've made a mistake in my judgment, I am not yet +prepared to admit it. You owe me nothing. I was alone, without family, +without ties. I was here with a broken life—and you gave me renewed +interest. But that couldn't have gone on, I think, if you hadn't been in +the main what I thought you—if you hadn't had in you the makings of a +man and a gentleman."</p> + +<p>He broke off and cleared his throat loudly.</p> + +<p>Boone, too, found the moment a trying one, and he thrust his hands deep +in his trousers pockets and said nothing. The uprights that supported +his life's structure seemed, just then, withdrawn without warning.</p> + +<p>"You know, when I was offered service in China, I declined—and you know +why," McCalloway reminded him. "I should do the same thing today, except +that now I think you can stand on your own legs. I take it you no longer +need me in the same sense that you did then—and the call that comes to +me is not an unworthy one."</p> + +<p>"I reckon, sir—it's military?"</p> + +<p>"It's at least advisory, in the military sense. My boy, it pains me not +to be able to take you into my full confidence—but I can't. I can't +even tell you where I am going."</p> + +<p>"You—" the question hung a moment on the next words—"you aim to come +back—sometime?"</p> + +<p>"God granting me a safe conclusion, I shall come back ... and the +thought of you will be with me in my absence ... the confidence in +you ... the hope for you."</p> + +<p>There was again a long silence, then McCalloway said:</p> + +<p>"I came here to discuss it with you. I have declined to give a positive +answer until we could do that."</p> + +<p>Boone wheeled, and his head came up. He felt suddenly promoted to the +responsible status of a counsellor. There was now no tremor in his +voice, except the thrill of his young and straightforward courage.</p> + +<p>"You say it's not unworthy work, sir. There can't be any question. +You've <i>got</i> to go. If you hesitated, I'd know full well I was spoiling +your life."</p> + +<p>Later, side by side, they tramped the muddy turnpikes between the rich +acres of farms where thoroughbreds were foaled and trained.</p> + +<p>"I have talked with Colonel Wallifarro," announced the soldier at +length. "Next fall he wants you to come to Louisville and finish reading +law in his office."</p> + +<p>But the boy shook his head. Here, confronting a great loneliness, he was +feeling the contrast between the land, whose children called it God's +country, and his own meagre hills, where the creeks bore such names as +Pestilence and Hell-fer-sartain.</p> + +<p>"I <i>couldn't</i> go to Louisville, sir. I couldn't pay my board or buy +decent clothes there. I've got that little patch of ground up there and +the cabin on it, though. I'd aimed to go back there—I'll soon be of +age, now—and seek to get elected clerk of the court."</p> + +<p>"Why clerk of the court? Why not the legislature?"</p> + +<p>The boy grinned.</p> + +<p>"The legislature was what I aimed at—until I read the constitution. +About the only job I'm not too young for is the clerkship."</p> + +<p>McCalloway nodded.</p> + +<p>"I see no reason why you shouldn't make that race, but you'll be a +fitter servant of your people for knowing a bit more of the world. As to +the money, I've arranged that—though you'll have to live frugally. +There will be to your credit, in bank, enough to keep you for a year or +two—and if I shouldn't get back—Colonel Wallifarro has my will. I +want you to live at my house when you're in the mountains—and look +after things—my small personal effects."</p> + +<p>But for that plan of financing his future, Boone had a stout refusal, +until the soldier stopped in the road and laid a hand on his shoulder. +"I have never had a son," he said simply. "I have always wanted one. +Will you refuse me?"</p> + +<p>It was a very painful day for both of them, but when at last Boone stood +under the railroad shed and saw the man who was his idol wave his hat +from the rear platform, he waved his own in return, and smiled the +twisted smile of stiff lips.</p> + +<p>On the ninth of February, as the boy glanced at the morning paper before +he started for his first class, he saw headlines that brought a creep to +his scalp, and the hand that held the paper trembled.</p> + +<p>Admiral Togo's fleet was steaming, with decks cleared for action, off +Port Arthur—already a Japanese torpedo-boat flotilla had attacked and +battered the Russian cruisers that crouched like grim watchdogs at the +harbour's entrance—already the gray sea-monsters flying the sun-flag +had ripped out their cannonading challenge to the guns of the coast +batteries!</p> + +<p>There had yet been no declaration of war—and the world, which had +wearied of the old story of unsuccessful treaty negotiations, rubbed +astonished eyes to learn that overnight a volcano of war had burst into +eruption—that lava-spilling for which the Empire of Nippon had been +building for a silent but determined decade.</p> + +<p>Boone was late for his classes that day—and so distrait and inattentive +that his instructors thought he must be ill. To himself he was saying, +with that ardour that martial tidings bring to young pulses, "Why +couldn't he have taken me along with him?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + + +<p>For Boone the approaching summer was no longer a period of zestful +anticipation. During that whole term he had looked eagerly ahead to +those coming months back in the hills, when with the guidance of his +wise friend he should plunge into the wholesome excitement of canvassing +his district.</p> + +<p>Now McCalloway was gone. And just before commencement a letter from Anne +brought news that made his heart sink.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Father is going home to England for the summer," she said, +"and that means that I won't get to the hills. I'm heartbroken +over it, and it isn't just that 'I always miss the hills,' +either. I do miss them. Every dogwood that I see blooming alone +in somebody's front yard, every violet in the grass, makes me +homesick for the places where beauty isn't only sampled but +runs riot—but there's a more personal note than that."</p> + +<p>"You must climb old Slag-face for me, Boone, and write me all +about it. If a single tree has blown down, don't fail to tell +me, dear."</p></blockquote> + +<p>There was also another thing which would cloud his return to Marlin +County. He could, in decency, no longer defer a painful confession to +Happy. So far, chance had fended it off, but now she was back from the +settlement school for good, and he was through college. In justice to +her further silence could not be maintained.</p> + +<p>Then May brought the Battle of the Yalu.</p> + +<p>First there were only meagre newspaper reports—all that Boone saw +before commencement—and later when the filtration of time brought the +fuller discussions in the magazines, and the world had discovered +General Kuroki, he was in the hills where magazines rarely came.</p> + +<p>Upon the wall of General Prince's law office hung a map of the +Manchurian terrain, and each day that devotee of military affairs took +it down, and, with black ink and red ink, marked and remarked its +surface.</p> + +<p>On one occasion, when Colonel Wallifarro found him so employed, the two +leaned over, with their heads close, in study of the situation.</p> + +<p>"This Kuroki seems to be a man of mystery, General," began Wallifarro. +"And it has set me to speculating. The correspondents hint that he's not +a native Japanese. They tell us that he towers in physical as well as +mental stature above his colleagues."</p> + +<p>"I can guess your thought, Tom," smiled General Prince. "And the same +idea occurred to me. You are thinking of the two Japanese agents who +came to the hills—and of McCalloway's sudden departure on a secret +journey. But it's only a romantic assumption. I followed the +Chinese-Japanese War with a close fidelity of detail—and Kuroki, though +less conspicuous than nowadays, was even then prominent."</p> + +<p>Tom Wallifarro bit the end from a cigar and lighted it.</p> + +<p>"It is none the less to be assumed that McCalloway is over there," he +observed. "Emperors don't send personal messengers half way round the +world to call unimportant men to the colours."</p> + +<p>"My own guess is this, Tom," admitted the cavalryman. "McCalloway is on +Kuroki's staff. Presumably he learned all he knew under Dinwiddie—and +this campaign shows the earmarks of a similar scheme of generalship. +Kuropatkin sought to delay the issue of combat, until over the +restricted artery of the Siberian Railway he could augment his numbers +and assume the offensive with a superior force."</p> + +<p>"And at the Yalu, Kuroki struck and forced the fight."</p> + +<p>"Precisely. He had three divisions lying about Wiju. It was necessary +to cross the Yalu under the guns of Makau, and there we see the first +manifestation of such an audacious stroke as Dinwiddie himself might +have attempted."</p> + +<p>Prince was pacing the floor now, talking rapidly, as he had done that +night when, with McCalloway, he discussed Dinwiddie, his military idol.</p> + +<p>"Kuroki—I say Kuroki, whether he was the actual impulse or the +figurehead using the genius of a subordinate—threw the Twelfth Division +forward a day in advance of his full force. The feint of a mock attack +was aimed at Antung—and the enemy rose to the bait. One week in advance +the command was given that at daybreak on the first of May the attack +should develop. At many points, shifting currents had altered the +channel and wiped out former possible fords. Pontoons and bridges had to +be built on the spot—anchors even must be forged from scrap-iron—yet +at the precise moment designated in the orders, the Mikado's forces +struck their blow. But wait just a moment, Tom."</p> + +<p>General Prince opened a drawer and took out a magazine.</p> + +<p>"Let me read you what one correspondent writes: 'At ten-thirty on the +morning of April thirtieth, the duel of the opposing heights began, with +roaring skies and smoking hills. The slopes north of Chinlien-Cheng were +generously timbered that morning. Night found them shrapnel-torn and +naked of verdure.</p> + +<p>"'To visualize the field, one must picture a tawny river, island-dotted +and sweeping through a broken country which lifts gradually to the +Manchurian ridges. Behind Tiger Hill and Conical Hill, quiet and chill +in the morning mists, lay the Czar's Third Army.</p> + +<p>"'Then were the judgments loosened.' The attack is on now, and the thin +brown lines are moving forward—slowly at first, as they approach the +shallows of the river beyond the bridges and the islands. Those wreaths +of smoke are Zassolich's welcome—from studiously emplaced pieces +raking the challengers—but the challengers are closing their gaps and +gaining momentum—carrying their wounded with them, as they wade +forward. There are those, of course, whom it is impossible to +assist—those who stumble in the shallow water to be snuffed out, +candle-fashion.'"</p> + +<p>The General paused to readjust his glasses, and Colonel Wallifarro mused +with eyes fixed on the violet spirals of smoke twisting up from his +cigar end. "Our friend would seem to be playing a man's game, after his +long hermitage."</p> + +<p>Prince took up the magazine again.</p> + +<p>"'The farther shore is reached under a withering fire. Annihilation +threatens the yellow men—they waver—then comes the order to charge. +For an instant the brown lines shiver and hang hesitant under the sting +of the death-hail—but after that moment they leap forward and sweep +upward. Their momentum gathers to an irresistible onrush, and under it +the defence breaks down. The noises that have raved from earth to +heaven, from horizon to horizon, are dropping from crescendo to +diminuendo. The field pieces of the Czar are being choked into the +muffled growl of despair. Doggedly the Russian is giving back.'"</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose, General," inquired Colonel Wallifarro suddenly, "that +McCalloway confided the purpose of his journey to the boy?"</p> + +<p>Prince shook his head positively. "I am quite sure that he has confided +it to no one—but I am equally sure that Boone has guessed it by now."</p> + +<p>"In that event I think it would tremendously interest him to read that +article."</p> + +<p>In the log house, where he had now no companionship, Boone received the +narrative.</p> + +<p>The place was very empty. Twilight had come on with its dispiriting +shadows, and Boone lighted a lamp, and since the night was cool he had +also kindled a few logs on the hearth.</p> + +<p>For a long while he sat there after reading and rereading the +description of the fight along the Manchurian River. His hands rested on +his knees, and his fingers held the clipping.</p> + +<p>On the table a forgotten law book lay open at a chapter on torts, but +the young man's eyes were fixed on the blaze, in whose fitful leapings +he was picturing, "the thunders through the foothills; tufts of fleecy +shrapnel spread along the empty plain"—and in the picture he always saw +one face, dominated by a pair of eyes that could be granite-stern or +soft as mossy waters.</p> + +<p>Finally he rose and unlocked a closet from which he reverently took out +a scabbarded sword. Dinwiddie had entrusted that blade to McCalloway, +and McCalloway had in turn entrusted it to him. Out there he was using a +less ornate sabre!</p> + +<p>The young mountaineer slipped the blade out of the sheath and once more +read the engraved inscription.</p> + +<p>Something rose in his throat, and he gulped it down. He spoke aloud, and +his words sounded unnatural in the empty room.</p> + +<p>"The Emperor of China sent for him—and he wouldn't go," said the boy. +"The Emperor of Japan sent for him—and he couldn't refuse. That's the +character of gentleman that's spent years trying to make a man of me."</p> + +<p>Suddenly Boone laid the sword on the table and dropped on his knees +beside it, with his hands clasped over the hilt.</p> + +<p>"Almighty God," he prayed, "give me the strength to make good—and not +disappoint him."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was a heavy hearted young man who presented himself the next night at +the house of Cyrus Spradling, and one who went as a penitent to the +confessional.</p> + +<p>Once more the father sat on the porch alone with his twilight pipe, and +once more the skies behind the ridges were high curtains of pale amber.</p> + +<p>"Ye're a sight fer sore eyes, boy," declared the old mountaineer +heartily. "An' folks 'lows thet ye aims ter run fer office, too. Wa'al, +I reckon betwixt me an' you, we kin contrive ter make shore of yore +gettin' two votes anyhow. I pledges ye mine fer sartain."</p> + +<p>Boone laughed though tears would better have fitted his mood, and the +old fellow chuckled at his own pleasantry.</p> + +<p>"I reckon my gal will be out presently," Cyrus went on. "I've done +concluded thet ye war p'int-blank right in arguing that schoolin' +wouldn't harm her none."</p> + +<p>But when the girl came out, the man went in and left them, as he always +did, and though the plucking of banjos within told of the family full +gathered, none of the other members interrupted the presumed courtship +which was so cordially approved.</p> + +<p>Happy stood for a moment in the doorway against a lamplit background, +and Boone acknowledged to himself that she had an undeniable beauty and +that she carried herself with the simple grace of a slender poplar. She +was, he told himself with unsparing self-accusation, in every way +worthier than he, for she had fought her battles without aid, and now +she stood there smiling on him confidently out of dark eyes that made no +effort to render their welcome coy with provocative concealment.</p> + +<p>"Howdy, Boone," she said in a voice of soft and musical cadences. "It's +been a long time since I've seen you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered with a painful sort of slowness, "but now that we're +both through school and back home to stay, I reckon we'll see each other +oftener. Are you glad to come back, Happy?"</p> + +<p>For a few moments the girl looked at him in the faint glow that came +through the door, without response. It was as though her answer must +depend on what she read in his face, and there was not light enough for +its reading.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know, myself, Boone," she said hesitantly at last. "I've +sort of been studying over it. How about you?"</p> + +<p>When she had settled into a chair, he took a seat at her feet with his +back against one of the posts of the porch, and replied with an +assumption of certainty that he did not feel, "A feller's bound to be +glad to get back to his own folks."</p> + +<p>"After I'd been down there the first time and came back here again, <i>I</i> +wasn't glad," was her candid rejoinder. "I felt like I just couldn't +bear it. Over there things were all clean, and folks paid some attention +to qualities—only they didn't call 'em that. They say 'manners' at the +school. Here it seemed like I'd come home to a human pig-sty—and I was +plumb ashamed of my own folks. When I looked ahead and saw a lifetime of +that—it seemed to me that I'd rather kill myself than go on with it."</p> + +<p>"You say"—Boone made the inquiry gravely—"that you felt like that at +first. How do you feel now?"</p> + +<p>"Later on I got to feelin' ashamed of myself, instead of my people," she +replied. "I got to seein' that I was faultin' them for not having had +the chance they were slavin' to give me."</p> + +<p>Boone bent attentively forward but he said nothing, and she went on.</p> + +<p>"You know as well as I do that, so far, there aren't many people here +that have much use for changes, but there are some few. The ground that +the school sets on was given by an old man that didn't have much else to +give. I remember right well what he said in the letter he wrote. It's +printed in their catalogue: 'I don't look after wealth for them, but I +want all young-uns taught to live right. I have heart and cravin' that +our people may grow better, and I deed my land to a school as long as +the Constitution of the United States stands.' I reckon that's the right +spirit, Boone."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + + +<p>Still the boy sat silent, with his chin in his hand, as sits the +self-torturing figure of Rodin's bronze "Penseur"—the attitude of +thought which kills peace. Boone understood that unless Happy found a +man who shared with her that idea of keeping the torch lit in the midst +of darkness, her life might benefit others, but for herself it would be +a distressing failure.</p> + +<p>Happy had fancied him, that he realized, but he had thought of it as a +phase through which she would pass with only such a scar as ephemeral +affairs leave—one of quick healing.</p> + +<p>Now the fuller significance was clear. He knew that she faced a life +which her very efforts at betterment would make unspeakably bleak, +unless she found companionship. He saw that to him she looked for +release from that wretched alternative—and he had come to tell her +that, beyond a deep and sincere friendship, he had nothing to offer her. +Such an announcement, though truthfulness requires it, is harder for +being deferred.</p> + +<p>Words seemed elusive and unmanageable as he made his beginning. "I'm +right glad that we are neighbours again, Happy," he told her. "I'm not +much to brag on—but I set a value on the same things you do—and I +reckon that means a good deal to—" He paused a moment, and added +clumsily, "to friendships."</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was the word itself, or perhaps, and that is likelier, it was +the light and unconscious stress with which Boone spoke it that told her +without fuller explanation what he had come to confess. Two syllables +brought her face to face with revelation, and all else he might say +would be only redundancy. Already she had feared it at times when she +lay wakeful in her bed.</p> + +<p>From that day when he had called her "Rebekkah at the Well," she had +been in love with him. She had not awakened to any hot ambition until +she had been fired with the incentive of paralleling his own educational +course. Now if he were not to be in her life she had only developed +herself out of her natural setting into a doom of miserable discontent.</p> + +<p>It had always seemed as rational an assumption that their futures should +merge as that the only pair of falcons in a forest full of jack-daws +should mate.</p> + +<p>Now he spoke of friendships!</p> + +<p>Yet the girl, though stunned with bitter disappointment, was not wholly +astonished.</p> + +<p>Topics of gossip are rare enough to be made much of in the hills, and +the neighbours had not failed to intimate in her hearing that when she +was away her "beau" had been sitting devotedly at other feet; but Happy +had smiled tranquilly upon her informants. "Boone would be right apt to +be charitable to a stranger," she had said, giving them none of the +satisfaction of seeing the thorn rankle, which is not to say that she +did not feel the sting. She had found false security in the thought that +Boone, even if he felt Anne's allurement, would be too sensible to raise +his eyes to her as a possibility since their worlds were not only +different but veritable antipodes of circumstance. What she had failed +to consider was that the Romeos and Juliets of the world have never +taken thought of what the houses of Montague and Capulet might say.</p> + +<p>For a while now she sat very silent, her hands in her lap tightly +clasped and unmoving, but when she spoke her voice was even and soft.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Boone," she said; then after a moment, "Boone, is there +anything you'd like to tell me?"</p> + +<p>The young man looked suddenly up at her, and his reply was a question, +too—an awkward and startled one: "What about, Happy—what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"The best thing friends can do—is to listen to what interests—each +other. Sometimes there are things we keep right silent about—in +general, I mean—and yet we get lonesome—for somebody to talk to—about +those things."</p> + +<p>There was a pause, and then as Happy explained, the seeming serenity of +her manner was a supreme test of self-effacement which deserved an +accolade for bravery.</p> + +<p>"I'd heard it hinted—that you thought a heap of a girl—down below—I +thought maybe you'd like to tell me about her."</p> + +<p>How should he know that words so simply spoken in the timbre of calm +naturalness came from a heart that was agonized?</p> + +<p>How could he guess that the quiet figure sitting in the low chair was +suffering inexpressible pain, or that the eyes that looked out through +half-closed lids seemed to see a world of rocking hills, black under +clouds of an unrelieved hopelessness?</p> + +<p>One who has come braced for an ordeal and finds that he has reared for +himself a fictitious trouble, can realize in the moment of reaction only +the vast elation of relief.</p> + +<p>Had her acting been less perfect, he might have caught a shadowing forth +of the truth—but, as it was, he only felt that shackles had been +knocked from him, and that he stood a free man.</p> + +<p>So he made a clean breast of how Anne had become his ideal; how he had +fought that discovery as an absurdly impossible love, and how for that +reason he had never before spoken of his feelings. But he did not, of +course, intimate that it had been Anne herself who had finally given him +a right to hope.</p> + +<p>Happy listened in sympathetic silence, and when he was through she said, +still softly:</p> + +<p>"Boone, I reckon you've got a right hopeful life-span stretching out +ahead of you—but are you sure you aren't fixing to break your heart, +boy? Don't those folks down there—hold themselves mighty high? Don't +they—sort of—look down on us mountain people?"</p> + +<p>It was a fair question, yet one which he could not answer without +betraying Anne's stout assertion of reciprocated feeling. He could only +nod his head and declare, "A feller must take his chances, I reckon."</p> + +<p>From the dark forests the whippoorwills called in those plaintive notes +that reach the heart. Down by the creek the frogs boomed out, and +platinum mists lay dreamily between their soft emphases of shadow. Boone +was thinking of the girl whose star hung there in the sky. His heart was +singing in elation, "She loves me and, thank God, Happy understands, +too. My way lies clear!" He was not reflecting just then that princesses +have often spoken as boldly as Anne had done, at sixteen, and have been +forced to submit to other destinies at twenty. The girl was +thinking—but that was her secret, and if she was bravely masking a +tortured heart it should be left inviolate in its secrecy.</p> + +<p>The young man in his abstraction did not mark how long the silence held, +and when at last Happy rose he came out of his revery with a start.</p> + +<p>"Boone, I'm mighty glad you felt that you could talk to me this way," +she said. "I want to be a <i>real</i> friend. But I've been working hard +today—and if it won't hurt your feelings, I wish you'd go home now. I'm +dog-tired, and I'd like to go to bed."</p> + +<p>He had started away, but the evening had brought such surprises—and +such a lifting of heavy anxiety—that he wanted to mull matters over out +there in the soothing moonlight and the clean sweetness of the air.</p> + +<p>So he sat down on a boulder where the shadow blotted him into the night, +and when he had been there for a while he looked up in a fresh +astonishment. Happy had not gone to bed. She was coming now across the +stile, with movements like those of a sleep-walker. Outside on the road +she stood for a while, pallid and wraith-like in the moonlight, looking +in the direction she supposed he had taken, while her fingers plucked at +her dress with distressed little gestures. Then with unsteady steps she +went on to the edge of the highway and leaned against the boll of a tall +poplar. He could see that her eyes were wide and her lips moving. Then +she wheeled and threw her hands, with outspread fingers, against the +cool bark above her head, leaning there as a child might lean on a +mother's bosom, and the sobs that shook her slender body came to him +across the short interval of distance.</p> + +<p>Boone went over to her with hurried strides, and when she felt his hands +on her shoulders she wheeled. Then only did her brave disguise fail her, +and she demanded almost angrily, forgetting her school-taught diction, +"Why didn't ye go home like I told ye? Why does ye hev ter dog me this +fashion, atter I'd done sent ye away?"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Happy?" he demanded; but he knew now, well enough, +and he was too honest to dissimulate. "I didn't know, Happy," he +pleaded. "I thought you meant it all."</p> + +<p>"I did mean hit all—I means thet I wants thet ye should be +happy—only—" Her voice broke there as she added, "—only I've done +always thought of myself as yore gal."</p> + +<p>She broke away from him with those words and fled back into the house, +and most of that night Boone tramped the woods.</p> + +<p>On the morning after Happy had fled from him, under the spurring of her +discovered secret, she had not been able with all her bravery of effort +to hide from the family about the daybreak breakfast table the traces of +a sleepless and tearful night. To Happy, this morning the murky room +which was both kitchen and dining hall seemed the epitome of sordidness, +with its newspaper-plastered walls and creaking puncheon floor. +Yesterday each depressing detail had been alleviated by the thought that +the future held a promise of release. Contemplating delivery, one can +laugh gaily in a cell, but now the dungeon doors seemed to have been +permanently closed and the key thrown away.</p> + +<p>"Happy's done been cryin'," shrilled one of the youngest of the brother +and sister brood—for that was a typical mountain family to which, for +years, each spring had brought its fresh item of humanity. As Cyrus +pithily expressed it, "Thar hain't but only fo'teen of us settin' down +ter eat when everybody's home."</p> + +<p>Old Cyrus put a stern quietus on the chorus of questioning elicited by +the proclaiming of his daughter's grief.</p> + +<p>"Ef she's been cryin', thet's her own business," he announced. "I reckon +she don't need ter name what hit's erbout every time she laughs or +weeps."</p> + +<p>And, such is the value of the patriarchal edict, the tumult was promptly +stilled.</p> + +<p>Yet the head of the house, himself, could not so readily dismiss a +realization of the unwonted pallor on cheeks normally soft and rosily +colourful. The eyes were undeniably wretched and deeply ringed. To +himself Cyrus said, "They've jest only done had a lovers' quarrel. Young +folks is bound ter foller fallin' out as well as fallin' in, I reckon."</p> + +<p>Neither that day nor the next, however, did the girl "live right up to +her name," and on the following night Boone did not come over to sue for +peace, as a lover should, under such April conditions of sun and storm.</p> + +<p>"What does ye reckon's done come over 'em, Maw?" the father eventually +inquired, and the mother shook her perplexed head.</p> + +<p>The two of them were alone on the porch just then, save for one of the +youngest children, who was deeply absorbed with the feeding of a small +and crippled lamb from a nursing bottle improvised out of a whiskey +flask.</p> + +<p>Slowly the old man's face clouded, until it wore so forebodingly sombre +a look as the wife had not seen upon it since years before when life had +run black. Then, despite all his efforts to "consort peaceful with +mankind," he had been drawn into an enmity with a fatal termination. +Cyrus had on that occasion been warned that he was to be "lay-wayed" +and, as he had taken down his rifle from the wall, his eyes had held +just the same hard and obdurate glint that lingered in them now. The +woman, remembering that time long gone, when her husband had refused to +turn a step aside from his contemplated journey, shuddered a little. She +could not forget how he had been shot out of his saddle and how he had, +while lying wounded in the creek-bed road, punished his assailant with +death. He was wounded now, though not with a bullet this time, and his +scowl said that he would hit back.</p> + +<p>"What air hit, Paw?" she demanded, and his reply came in slow but +implacable evenness:</p> + +<p>"I've done set a heap of store by Boone Wellver. I've done thought of +him like a son of my own—but ef he's broke my gal's heart—an's she's +got ther look of hit in her eyes—him an' me kain't both go on dwellin' +along ther same creek." He paused a moment there, and in his final words +sounded an even more inflexible ring: "We kain't both go on livin' +hyar—an' I don't aim ter move."</p> + +<p>"Paw"—the plea came solicitously from a fear-burdened heart—"we've +just got ter wait an' see."</p> + +<p>"I don't aim ter be over-hasty," he reassured her, with a rude sort of +gentleness, "but nuther does I aim ter endure hit—ef so be hit's true."</p> + +<p>But that evening at twilight when Boone crossed the stile, if the nod +which greeted him was less cordial than custom had led him to expect, at +least Cyrus spoke no hostile word. The old man was "biding his time," +and as he rose and knocked the nub of ash out of his pipe-bowl, he +announced curtly, "I'll tell Happy ye're hyar."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + + +<p>Boone had stood for a moment in the lighted door, and in that interval +the shrewd old eyes of Cyrus Spradling had told him that the boy too had +known sleeplessness and that the clear-chiselled features bore +unaccustomed lines of misery.</p> + +<p>If they had both suffered equally, reasoned the rude philosopher, it +augured a quarrel not wholly or guiltily one-sided.</p> + +<p>So a few minutes later he watched them walking away together toward the +creek bed, where the voice of the water trickled and the moonlight lay +in a dreamy lake of silver.</p> + +<p>"I reckon," he reassured himself, "they'll fix matters up ternight. +Hit's a right happy moon for lovers ter mend th'ar quarrels by."</p> + +<p>"Happy," began Boone, with moisture-beaded temples, when they had +reached a spot remote enough to assure their being undisturbed, "I +reckon I don't need to tell you that I haven't slept much since I saw +you. I haven't been able to do anything at all except—just think about +it."</p> + +<p>"I've thought about it—a good deal—too," was her simple response, and +Boone forced himself on, rowelling his lagging speech with a determined +will power.</p> + +<p>"I see now—that I didn't act like a man. I ought to have told you long +ago—that I—that my heart was just burning up—about Anne."</p> + +<p>"I reckon I ought to have guessed it.... I'd heard hints."</p> + +<p>"It seemed a slavish hard thing to write," he confessed heavily. "I +tried it—more than once—but when I read it over it sounded so +different from what I meant to say that—" There he paused, and even had +she been inclined to visit upon him the maximum instead of the minimum +of blame, there was no escaping his sincerity or the depth of his +contrition. "That, until I saw you—night before last—I didn't have any +true idea—how much you cared."</p> + +<p>"I didn't aim that you ever should—have any idea."</p> + +<p>"Happy," he rose and with the blood receding from his skin looked down +at her, as she sat there in the moonlight, "Happy, it seems like I never +knew you—really—until now."</p> + +<p>She was, in her quietly borne distress, an appealing picture, and the +hands that lay in her lap had the unmoving stillness of wax—or death.</p> + +<p>It had to be said, so he went on. "I never realized before now how fine +you are—or how much too good you are for me. I've come over here +tonight to ask you to marry me—if it ain't too late."</p> + +<p>The girl flinched as if she had been struck. Not even for a moment did +her eagerness betray her into the delusion that this proposal was +anything other than a merciful effort to soothe a hurt for which he felt +himself blamable.</p> + +<p>Just as she had meant to keep from him the extent of her heart's +bruising, so he was seeking now to make amends at the cost of all his +future happiness. Having blundered, he was tendering what payment lay in +possibility.</p> + +<p>"No, Boone," she said firmly. "We'd both live in hell for always—unless +we loved each other—so much that nothin' else counted."</p> + +<p>"I've got to be honest," he miserably admitted. "It wouldn't be fair to +you not to be. I've got to go on loving her—while there's life in me, I +reckon—loving her above all the world. But she's young—and there'll be +lots of men of her own kind courtin' her. I reckon"—those were hard +words to say, but he said them—"I reckon you had the right of it when +you said I was fixin' to break my heart anyhow. They won't ever let her +marry me."</p> + +<p>It did not seem to him that it would help matters to explain that even +now he felt disloyal to his whole religion of love, and that he had +asked her only because he realized that no other man here could bring +Happy's life to fulfilment, while Anne could only step down to him in +condescension.</p> + +<p>The decision which he had reached after tossing in a fevered delirium of +spirit lacked sanity. From no point of view would it conform to the +gauge of soundness. In giving up Anne, when Anne had told him he might +hope, he had construed all the sacrifice as his own. As to Anne's rights +in the matter, he was blinded by the over-modest conviction that she was +giving all and he taking all and that she could never <i>need</i> him.</p> + +<p>He would in later years have reasoned differently—but he had been +absorbing too fast to digest thoroughly, and the concepts of his +new-found chivalry had become a distorted quixoticism. He meant it only +for self-effacing fairness—and it was of course unfairness to himself, +to Anne, and even to Happy. But she divined his unconfessed thought with +the certitude of intuition.</p> + +<p>"Boone," she told him, as she rose and laid a tremulous hand on his arm, +"you've done tried as hard as a man can to make the best of a bad +business. It wasn't anybody's fault that things fell out this way. It +just came to pass. I'm going to try to teach some of the right young +children over at the school next autumn—so what little I've learned +won't be wasted, after all. I want that we shall go on being good +friends—but just for a little while we'd better not see very much of +each other. It hurts too bad."</p> + +<p>That was an unshakeable determination, and when, in obedience to the +edict, Boone had not come back for a week, Cyrus asked his daughter +briefly:</p> + +<p>"When do you an' Boone aim ter be wedded?"</p> + +<p>The girl flinched again, but her voice was steady as she replied:</p> + +<p>"We—don't—never aim to be."</p> + +<p>The old fellow's features stiffened into the stern indignation of an +affronted Indian chief. He took the pipe from between his teeth as he +set his shoulders, and that baleful light, that had come rarely in a +life-span, returned to his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ef he don't aim ter wed with ye," came the slow pronouncement, "thar +hain't no fashion he kin escape an accountin' with me."</p> + +<p>For a moment Happy did not speak. It seemed to her that the raising of +such an issue was the one thing which she lacked present strength to +face; but after a little she replied, with a resolution no less +iron-strong because the voice was gentle:</p> + +<p>"Unless ye wants ter break my heart fer all time—ye must give me your +pledge to—keep hands off."</p> + +<p>After a moment she added, almost in a whisper:</p> + +<p>"He's asked me—and I've refused to marry him."</p> + +<p>"You—refused him?" The voice was incredulous. "Why, gal, everybody +knows ye've always thought he was a piece of the moon."</p> + +<p>"I still think so," she made gallant response. "But I wants ye to—jest +trust me—an' not ask any more questions."</p> + +<p>The father sat there stiffly gazing off to the far ridges, and his eyes +were those of a man grief-stricken. Once or twice his raggedly bearded +lips stirred in inarticulate movements, but finally he rose and laid a +hand on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Little gal," he said in a broken voice, "I reckon I've got ter suffer +ye ter decide fer yoreself—hit's yore business most of all—but I don't +never want him ter speak ter me ergin."</p> + +<p>So Boone went out upon the hustings with none of the eager zest of his +anticipations. That district was so solidly one-sided in political +complexion that the November elections were nothing more than +formalities, and the real conflict came to issue in the August +primaries.</p> + +<p>But with Boone's announcement as candidate for circuit clerk, old +animosities that had lain long dormant stirred into restive mutterings. +The personnel of the "high court" had been to a considerable extent +dominated by the power of the Carrs and Blairs.</p> + +<p>Now with the news that Boone Wellver, a young and "wishful" member of +the Gregory house, meant to seek a place under the teetering clock tower +of the court house, anxieties began to simmer. Into his candidacy the +Carrs read an effort to enhance Gregory power—and they rose in +resistance. Jim Blair, a cousin of Tom Carr, threw down his gauntlet of +challenge and announced himself as a contestant, so that the race began +to assume the old-time cleavage of the feud.</p> + +<p>On muleback and on foot, Boone followed up many a narrowing creek bed to +sources where dwelt the "branch-water folk." Here, in animal-like want +and squalor, the crudest of all the uncouth race lived and begot +offspring and died. Here where vacuous-eyed children of an inbred strain +stared out from the doors of crumbling and windowless shacks, or fled +from a strange face, he campaigned among the illiterate elders and +oftentimes he sickened at what he saw.</p> + +<p>Yet these people of yesterday were his people—and they offered him of +their pitiful best even when their ignorance was so incredible that the +name of the divinity was to them only "somethin' a feller cusses +with"—and he felt that his campaign was prospering.</p> + +<p>One day, however, when he returned to his own neighbourhood after an +absence across the mountain, he seemed to discover an insidious and +discouraging change in the tide—a shifting of sentiment to an almost +sullen reserve. An intangible resentment against him was in the air.</p> + +<p>It was Araminta Gregory who construed the mystery for him. She had heard +all the gossip of the "grannies," which naturally did not come to his +own ears.</p> + +<p>"I'm atellin' ye this, Boone, because <i>somebody</i> ought ter forewarn ye," +she explained. "Thar's a story goin' round about, an' I reckon hit's +hurtin' ye. Somebody hes done spread ther norration thet ye hain't +loyal ter yore own blood no more.—They're tellin' hit abroad thet ye've +done turned yore back on a mountain gal—atter lettin' her 'low ye aimed +ter wed with her." She paused there, but added a moment later: "I reckon +ye wouldn't thank me ter name no names—an', anyhow, ye knows who I +means."</p> + +<p>"I know," he said, in a very quiet and deliberate voice. "Please go +on—and, as you say, it ain't needful to call no names."</p> + +<p>"These witch-tongued busybodies," concluded the woman, her eyes flaring +into indignation, "is spreadin' hit broadcast thet ye plumb abandoned +thet gal fer a furrin' woman—thet wouldn't skeercely wipe her feet on +ye—ef ye laid down in ther road in front of her!"</p> + +<p>Boone's posture grew taut as he listened, and it remained so during the +long-ensuing silence. He could feel a furious hammering in his temples, +and for a little time blood-red spots swam before his eyes. But when at +length he spoke, it was to say only, "I'm beholden to you, Araminty. A +man has need to know what his enemies are sayin'."</p> + +<p>It was one of those sub-surface attacks, which Boone could not +discuss—or even seem to recognize without bringing into his political +forensics the names of two women—so he must face the ambushed +accusation of disloyalty without striking back.</p> + +<p>In Marlin Town, one court day, Jim Blair was addressing a crowd from the +steps of the court house, and at his side stood Tom Carr, his kinsman. +Boone was there, too, and when that speech ended he meant to take his +place where his rival now stood, and to give back blow for blow. At +first Jim Blair addressed himself to the merits of his own candidacy, +but gradually he swung into criticism of his opponent, while the +opponent himself listened with an amused smile.</p> + +<p>"Ther feller that's runnin' erginst me," confessed the orator, "kin talk +ter ye in finer phrases then I kin ever contrive ter git my tongue +around. I reckon when he steps up hyar he'll kinderly dazzle ye with +his almighty gift of speech. I've spent my days right hyar amongst ye in +slavish toil—like ther balance of you boys—hev done. My breeches air +patched—like some o' yourn be. He's done been off ter college, l'arnin' +all manner of fotched-on lore. He's done been consortin' with ther kind +of folks thet don't think no lavish good of us. He's done been gettin' +every sort of notion savin' them notions thet's come down in our blood +from our fore-parents—but when he gits through spell-bindin' I wants ye +all ter remember jest one thing: I'll be plumb satisfied if I gits ther +vote of every man thet w'ars a raggedy shirt tail and hes a patch on the +seat of his pants. <i>He's</i> right welcome ter ther balance."</p> + +<p>Boone joined in the salvo of laughter that went up at that sally, but +the mirth died suddenly from his face the next moment, for the applause +had gone to Blair's head like liquor and fired him to a more philippic +vein of oratory.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I might counsel this young feller ter heed ther words of +Scripture an' 'tarry a while in Jericho fer his beard ter grow.' Mebby +by thet day an' time he mout l'arn more loyalty fer ther men—yea, an' +fer ther <i>women</i>, too—of his own blood and breed!"</p> + +<p>Once more the red spots swam before Boone Wellver's eyes, but for a +hard-held moment he kept his lips tight drawn. There was a tense silence +as men held their breath, waiting to see if the old Gregory spirit had +become so tamed as to endure in silence that damning implication; but +before Blair had begun again Boone was confronting him with dangerously +narrow eyes, and their faces inches apart.</p> + +<p>Blair was a short, powerfully built man with sandy hair and a red jowl +swelling from a bull-like neck. Standing on the step below, Boone's eyes +were level with his own.</p> + +<p>"Either tell these men what you mean," commanded the younger candidate +in a voice that carried its ominous level to the farthest fringe of the +small crowd, "or else tell 'em you lied! Wherein have I been disloyal to +my blood?"</p> + +<p>"You'll hav yore chancet ter talk when I gits through here," bellowed +Blair. "Meanwhile, don't break in on me."</p> + +<p>"Tell 'em what you mean—or take it back—or fight," repeated Boone, +with the same fierce quietness.</p> + +<p>It was no longer possible to ignore the peremptory challenge, and the +speaker was forced into the open. But he was also enraged beyond sanity +and he shouted out to the crowd over the shoulders of the figure that +confronted him, "Ef he fo'ces me ter name ther woman I'll do hit. +Hit's—"</p> + +<p>But the name was never uttered. With a lashing out that employed every +ounce of his weight and strength, Boone literally mashed the voice to +silence, and sent the speaker bloody-mouthed down the several steps into +the dust of the square.</p> + +<p>Despite his middle-aged bulk, Jim Blair had lost none of his catlike +activity, and while the more timid members of the crowd, in anticipation +of gunplay, hastily sought cover or threw themselves prone to the +ground, he came to his feet with a revolver ready-drawn and fired +point-blank. But, just as of two lightning bolts, one may have a shade +more speed than the other, so Boone was quicker than Jim. He struck up +the murderous hand, and the two candidates grappled. An instant later, +Boone stood once more over a prostrate figure, that was this time slower +in recovering its feet. Wellver broke the pistol and emptied it of its +cartridges, then contemptuously he threw it down beside its owner in the +dust of the court house yard.</p> + +<p>But as he turned, Tom Carr was standing motionless at arm's length away, +and Boone was looking into Tom's levelled revolver.</p> + +<p>"Ye hain't quite done with this matter yet," snarled that partisan, as +his eyes snapped malignantly. "Ye've still got me ter reckon with. Throw +up them hands, afore I kills ye!"</p> + +<p>Boone did not throw them up. Instead, he crossed them on his breast and +remained looking steadily into the passionate face of the black-haired +leader of Asa's enemies.</p> + +<p>"Shoot when you get ready, Tom; I haven't got a gun on me," he said +calmly. "But if you shoot—you'll be breaking the truce—that you +pledged your men to, when you and Asa shook hands. If the war breaks out +afresh, today, it will be your doing." Other hands now were fondling +weapons out there in front of the two; men who were mixed between +Gregory and Carr sympathies and who were rapidly filtering themselves +out of a conglomerate mass into two sharply defined groups.</p> + +<p>"Hain't ye a'ready done bust thet truce—jest now?" demanded Tom, and +Boone shook his head.</p> + +<p>Again there was a purposeful ring in his voice.</p> + +<p>"No, by God—I handled a liar—like he ought to be handled—and if there +are any Gregories out there that wouldn't do the same—I hope they'll +line up with <i>you</i>!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + + +<p>Slowly and grudgingly Tom sheathed his weapon. He knew that to fire on +an unarmed man in the tensely overwrought gathering would mean wholesale +blood-letting. Black looks told of a tempest brewing; so, with a surly +nod, he stepped back and helped Jim Blair to his place again. Blair, +dust covered and bruised, with a dribble of blood still trickling from +his mashed lip, made an effort to complete his speech which ended in +anticlimax. To Boone he said nothing more, and to the interrupted +subject he gave no further mention.</p> + +<p>That episode had rather strengthened than hurt Wellver's prospects, and +he would have gone away somewhat appeased of temper had he not met Cyrus +Spradling face-to-face in the court house yard, and halted, with a +mistaken impulse of courtesy, to speak to him.</p> + +<p>But the old friend, who had become the new enemy, looked him balefully +in the eye and to the words of civil greeting gave back a bitter +response: "I don't want ye ter speak ter me—never ergin," he declared. +"But I'm glad I met up with ye this oncet, though. I promised ye my vote +one day—an' I'm not a man thet breaks a pledge. I kain't vote fer ye, +now, with a clean conscience, though, and I wants ye ter give me back +thet promise."</p> + +<p>Boone knew without delusion that this public repudiation of him by the +neighbour who had expected to be his father-in-law had sealed his doom. +He knew that all men would reason, as he had done, that Cyrus would give +no corroboration to belittling gossip concerning his daughter, unless +the wound were deep beyond healing and the resentment righteous beyond +concealment.</p> + +<p>"Of course," responded the young candidate gravely, "I give back your +promise. I don't want any vote that isn't a willing one." But he mounted +his horse with a sickened heart, and it was no surprise to him, when the +results of the primaries were tallied, to find that he was not only a +beaten man but so badly beaten that, as one commiserating friend +mournfully observed to him, "Ye mout jest as well hev run on ther +demmycrat ticket."</p> + +<p>Boone went back to McCalloway's house that afternoon and sat uncomforted +for hours before the dead hearth.</p> + +<p>His eyes went to the closet wherein was locked the sword which Victor +McCalloway had entrusted to his keeping, but he did not take it out. In +the black dejection of his mood he seemed to himself to have no business +with a blade that gallant hands had wielded. He could see only that he +had messed things and proven recreant to the strong faith of a +chivalrous gentleman and the love of two girls.</p> + +<p>On the mantle-shelf was a small bust of Napoleon Bonaparte in +marble—the trifle that Anne had brought across the "ocean-sea" to be an +altar-effigy in his conquest of life! Boone looked at it, and laughed +bitterly.</p> + +<p>"That's my pattern—Napoleon!" he said, under his breath. "I'm a right +fine and handsome imitation of <i>him</i>. The first fight I get into is my +Waterloo!"</p> + +<p>He met Happy in the road a few days later, and she stopped to say that +she was sorry. She had heard, of course, of how decisively he had been +beaten, but he drew a tepid solace from reading in her eyes that she did +not know the part her father had played in his undoing. He hoped that +she would never learn of it.</p> + +<p>It was early in September when Boone set the log house in order, nailed +up its windows and put a padlock on the door. He carried the key over to +Aunt Judy's, and then on his return he sat silently on the fence gazing +at its square front for a long while in the twilight.</p> + +<p>Before him lay new battles in the first large city he had yet seen—a +city which until now he had seen only once when he went there to visit +its jail. But his preternaturally solemn face at length brightened. +Anne was there, and Colonel Wallifarro had said, "A warm welcome awaits +you."</p> + +<p>In due course Boone presented himself at the office door in Louisville +with the three names etched upon its frosted glass, and was conducted by +a somewhat supercilious attendant to the Colonel's sanctum.</p> + +<p>The Colonel came promptly from his chair with an outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, my boy," he exclaimed heartily, "I'm right glad to see you."</p> + +<p>Morgan sat across the desk from his father. Some matter of consultation +had brought him there, and the fact that the Colonel had permitted young +Wellver's arrival to interrupt it annoyed him.</p> + +<p>"So you lost your race up there, didn't you?" Colonel Wallifarro +laughed. "I wouldn't take it too seriously if I were you. After all, +it's not the only campaign you'll ever make."</p> + +<p>But the eyes of the young mountaineer held the sombreness of his +humourless race. "Mr. McCalloway was right ambitious for me, sir," he +said. "I hate to have to tell him—that the first fight I ever went into +was a—Waterloo."</p> + +<p>"Still, my boy, it's better to have your Waterloo first and your +Austerlitz later—but I know General Prince will want to see you." The +lawyer rang a bell and said to the answering boy: "Tell General Prince +that Mr. Boone Wellver is in my office."</p> + +<p>As they sat waiting, Boone inquired: "How is Anne—Miss Masters?"</p> + +<p>At the mention of the name, Morgan bridled a little, and cast upon him a +glance of disapproving scrutiny, but the Colonel, still glancing at the +memorandum which he held, replied with no such taint of manner, "Anne's +taking a year at college by way of finishing up. I guess you'll miss her +after being her guide, counsellor and friend down there in Marlin."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I'll miss her."</p> + +<p>So he wouldn't even see Anne! Suddenly the city seemed to Boone Wellver +a very stifling, unfriendly and inhuman sort of place in which to live.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The new law student could have found no more gracious sponsor or learned +savant than was Colonel Tom Wallifarro. He could have found no finer +example of the Old South—which was now the New South as well; but one +friend, though he be a peerless one, does not rob a new and strange +world of its loneliness.</p> + +<p>At college, if a boy had sneered, Boone could resent the slur and offer +battle; but here there was no discourtesy upon which to seize—only the +bleaker and more intangible thing of difference between himself and +others—that he himself felt and which he knew others were seeking to +conceal—until politeness became a more trying punishment than affront.</p> + +<p>He began to feel with a secret sensitiveness contrasts of clothes and +manners.</p> + +<p>Morgan was consistently polite—but it was a detached politeness which +often made Boone's blood quicken to the impulse of belligerent heat. +Morgan palpably meant to ignore him with a disdain masked in the +habiliments of courtesy. When Boone went reluctantly to dine at Colonel +Wallifarro's home he felt himself a barbarian among cultivated +people—though that feeling sprang entirely from the new sensitiveness. +As a matter of fact, he bore himself with a self-possessed dignity which +Colonel Wallifarro later characterized as "the conduct of a gentleman +reduced to its simplest and most natural terms."</p> + +<p>But for the most part of that first winter in town his life, outside the +office, was the life of the boarding house in downtown Third Street; the +life of slovenly but highly respectable women with a penchant for cheap +gossip; of bickerings overheard through division walls; of disappointed +men who should, they were assured, if life stood on all fours with +justice, be dwelling in their own houses. In short, it was the dreary +existence of unalleviated obscurity.</p> + +<p>But to Boone it was something else. In his third-floor room was a window +and a gas jet.</p> + +<p>The window looked across to another world where, behind a fine old +sycamore that took on alluring colour of bole and bark and leaf, stood a +club through whose colonial doors men like Morgan Wallifarro went in and +out.</p> + +<p>At night too that mean room was to him sanctuary, for then there was the +gas jet, and the gas jet stood, to a cabin-bred boy, for adventuring +into all the world of literature of which McCalloway had talked.</p> + +<p>Boone had the list written down, and the public library had the books.</p> + +<p>So while the couple in the next room debated the question of separation +and divorce, their voices carrying stridently through lath and plaster, +Boone was ranging the world with Darwin, with Suetonius and his "Lives +of the Caesars," with the whole bright-panoplied crew: Plutarch, +Thackeray, Dumas, Stevenson, Macaulay, and Kipling.</p> + +<p>Then, too, there were visits to the jail where a kinsman lay in durance. +But when summer came he heaved a sigh of vast relief.</p> + +<p>As the train took him back through flat beargrass and swelling +bluegrass, through the beginnings of the hills, where he saw the first +log booms in the rivers—his heart seemed to expand and his lungs to +broaden out and drink deep where they had been only sipping before.</p> + +<p>Dutifully and promptly upon his arrival at the McCalloway cabin, Boone +went over to see Happy, and as he drew near, for all the assurance of a +courage, by no means brittle, he halted in the road and braced himself +before he crossed the stile.</p> + +<p>To go there was something of an ordeal. To stay away, without making the +effort, would leave him guiltily recreant to an old friendship which, on +one side, had been love.</p> + +<p>"It's Boone Wellver. Can I come in?" he shouted from the road, and +Cyrus, who looked aged and hunched his shoulders more dejectedly than of +old, rose slowly from his hickory-withed chair on the porch and stood +upright.</p> + +<p>At first he did not speak. Indeed, he did not speak at all until he had +come with deliberate steps down to the stile, where he faced the visitor +across the boundary fence, as a defending force might parley over a +frontier. Then raising a long arm and a pointed finger down the road, he +spoke the one word, "Begone!"</p> + +<p>"I came to see Happy," said the visitor steadily. "I don't think she is +nursing any grudge."</p> + +<p>"No," the old fellow's eyes flashed dangerously; "women folks kin be too +damn fergivin', I reckon. Hit war because she exacted a pledge from me +to keep hands off thet I ever let matters slide in ther first place. I +don't know what come ter pass. She hain't nuver told me—but I knows you +broke her heart some fashion. Many a mountain war has done been started +fer less."</p> + +<p>Boone straightened a little and his chin came up, but still there was no +resentment in his voice:</p> + +<p>"Then I can't see your daughter—at your house? Will you tell her that I +sought to?"</p> + +<p>In a hard voice Cyrus answered: "No—ef she war hyar I wouldn't give her +no message from ye whatsoever—but since she ain't hyar thet don't make +no great differ."</p> + +<p>"Where is she?"</p> + +<p>"Thet's her business—and mine. Hit hain't none o' yourn—. An' now, +begone!"</p> + +<p>Boone turned on his heel and strode away, but it was only from other +neighbours that he learned that a second school, similar to the one +which the girl herself had attended, was being started some forty miles +away in a district that had heard of the first, and had sent out the +cry, "Come over into Macedonia and help us!"</p> + +<p>To that school Happy had gone—this time as a teacher of the younger +children.</p> + +<p>But before the summer ended Anne came to Marlin Town, and though she +had been at an Eastern college Boone found no change in her save that +her beauty seemed more radiant and her graciousness more winning. He had +been a trifle afraid of meeting her, this time, because he felt more +keenly than in the past how many allowances her indulgence must make for +his crudities.</p> + +<p>But Anne knew many men who had the superficial qualities that Boone +coveted—and little else. What she did see in her old playmate was a +fellow superbly fitted for companionship out under the broad skies, and, +above all, she loved the open places and the freedom of the hills where +the eagles nested in their high eyries.</p> + +<p>"I love it all," she exclaimed one day, with an outsweep of her arms. "I +believe that somewhere back in my family tree there must have been an +unaccounted-for gipsy. I've not been here so very much, and yet I always +think of coming here as of going home."</p> + +<p>"God never made any other country just like it, I reckon," Boone +answered gravely. "It's fierce and lawless, but it's honest and +generous, too. Men kill here, but they don't steal. They are poor, but +they never turn the stranger away. It's strange, though, that you should +love it so. It's very different from all you've known down there."</p> + +<p>"I guess there's a wild streak in me, too," she laughed. "Those virtues +you speak of are the ones I like best. When I go home I feel like a +canary hopping back into its cage, after a little freedom."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + + +<p>When he went back to Louisville, early in September, Boone found the +office of Colonel Wallifarro humming with a suppressed excitement, +tinctured with indignation. A municipal campaign was on, and on the day +of his arrival General Prince and Colonel Wallifarro were deep in its +discussion. Seeing the earnest gleam in their eyes, Boone wondered a +little at the contrasting indifference in Morgan's manner whenever the +political topic was broached. He fancied that the Colonel himself was +disappointed, and one morning that gentleman said with a tone as nearly +bordering on rebuke as Boone had ever heard him employ with his son, +"Morgan, I don't understand how you can remain so unmoved by a situation +which makes an imperative demand upon a man's sense of citizenship."</p> + +<p>Morgan laughed. "Father," he said easily, "it is law that interests +me—not politics. Take it all in all, I don't think it's a very clean +business."</p> + +<p>The elder man studied his son thoughtfully for a space, and then he said +quietly, "General Prince and myself take a different view. We think that +at certain times—like the present—citizenship may mean a call to the +colours.... A failure to respond to such a summons seems to me a +surrender of civil affairs into the hands of avowed despoilers—it seems +almost desertion."</p> + +<p>"And yet, sir," smiled the unruffled Morgan, "we rarely see permanent +reforms result from crusading patriots. The ward heelers are usually the +victors, because professionals have the advantage of amateurs."</p> + +<p>That same evening Boone stood in a small downtown hall, crowded to the +doors, and heard Colonel Wallifarro lay the stinging lash of +denunciation across the shoulders of the city hall oligarchy. He heard +him charge the police and the fire departments with fostering a +perpetuation of machine abuses in the hands of machine hirelings—of +maintaining a government by intimidation and force, and he too wondered +how, if these charges were tinctured with any colour of truth, a +free-hearted man could stand aside from the combat. He knew too that +Colonel Wallifarro did not indulge in unconsidered libels.</p> + +<p>At the door, when the sweltering meeting ended, he noticed close behind +him a man talking to a policeman.</p> + +<p>"These here silk-stocking guys buttin' in gives me a pain," announced +that heated critic. "They spill out an earful of this Sunday-school guff +before election day, but when the strong-arm boys get busy they fade +away—believe me, the poor boobs fade out!"</p> + +<p>"They ain't practical," agreed the patrolman judicially, and Boone made +a mental note of his badge number. "They think one and one make two—but +we know that if you fix a couple of ones right it's just as easy to make +an eleven with 'em."</p> + +<p>Boone and Anne had gone horseback riding one afternoon that September, +and it was a different sort of excursion from those that they had taken +together in the mountains.</p> + +<p>The boy was mounted on Colonel Wallifarro's saddle mare, and the girl on +a high-headed four-year-old from the same stable. They were not picking +their way now through tangled trails that led upward, but were cantering +along the level speedway toward the park set on a hill five miles south +of the city. There, at the fringe of a line of knobs, was the only +approach to be found in this table-flat land to the heights which they +both loved.</p> + +<p>These hills were only little brothers to the loftier peaks of the +Cumberlands—but the air was full of Indian summer softness, and the +horses under them were full of mettle—and they themselves were in love.</p> + +<p>"Boone," demanded the girl, drawing down to a sedate pace, after a +brisk gallop that had lathered the flanks and withers of their mounts, +"what is it that interests you so in this campaign? You can't even vote +here, can you?"</p> + +<p>The young man shook his head, and now the smile of humour which had once +been rare upon his face flashed there—because he had reached a point +where his development was beginning to take some account of perspectives +and balances.</p> + +<p>"No, I can't vote here—but I can get as bitter over their fights as if +they were my own. I couldn't explain why I'm interested any more than a +hound could tell why he wants to run with the pack. It's just that the +game calls a man."</p> + +<p>"Morgan calls politics the sport of the great unwashed," observed Anne. +"He says it gives the lower class a substitute for mental activity and +demagogues a chance to exploit them."</p> + +<p>"Does he?" inquired Boone drily.</p> + +<p>"Boone"—Anne's eyes filled suddenly with a grave anxiety—"aren't you +really working so hard about all this business—because Uncle Tom is so +deeply involved in it and because you think he's in some danger?"</p> + +<p>Boone leaned forward to right a twisted martingale, and when he +straightened up he answered slowly: "I suppose any prominent man in a +hard fight may be in—some danger, but he doesn't seem to take it very +seriously."</p> + +<p>"Why," she demanded, "can't men oppose each other in politics without +getting rabid about it?"</p> + +<p>"They can—when it's just politics. This is more than that, according to +the way we feel about it."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because we charge that the city hall is in the hands of plunderers and +that for tribute they give criminals a free hand in preying on the +citizens."</p> + +<p>"And yet," demurred the girl, with puzzled brow, "men like Judge McCabe +laugh at all this 'reform hysteria,' as they call it. They aren't +criminals."</p> + +<p>Boone nodded. "There are good men in the city hall, too, but they +belong to the old system that puts the party label above everything +else."</p> + +<p>They reached the brow of the hill and stood, their horses breathing +heavily from the climb, looking off across the country where on the far +side other knobs went trooping away to meet the sky.</p> + +<p>The bridles hung loose, and the girl sat looking off over leagues of +landscape with grave eyes, while Boone of course looked at her. The +beauty of the green earth and blue sky was to his adoration only a +background for her nearer beauty.</p> + +<p>The boy, as he gazed at the delicate modelling of her brow and chin, +wondered what was going on in her thoughts, for there was a wistful +droop at the corner of her lips; yet presently, even while it lingered +there, a twinkle riffled in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I ought to be all wrought up, I suppose, over this crusade on +wickedness," she announced, though with no sense of guilt in her voice, +"and yet if it weren't for my friends being in it, I doubt whether it +would mean much to me—. I've got too much politics of my own to worry +about."</p> + +<p>"Politics of your own?" he questioned. "Why, Anne, your monarchy is +absolute; there isn't a voice of anarchy or rebellion anywhere in your +gracious majesty's realm—and your realm is your whole world."</p> + +<p>Boone, the bluntly direct of speech, was coming on in the less +straitened domain of the figurative. Anne was teaching him the bright +lessons of gaiety.</p> + +<p>She laughed and drew back her shoulders with a mock hauteur. "Our +Viceroy from the Mountain Dominions flatters us. We have, however, the +Mother Dowager—and we approach the age for a suitable alliance."</p> + +<p>The two horses were standing so close together that the riders were +almost knee to knee, and just then they had the hilltop to themselves. +The humorous smile that had been on the lips of the young mountaineer +vanished as characters on a slate are obliterated under a sponge. His +cheeks, still bronzed from a mountain summer, went suddenly pale—and +he found nothing to say. What was there to say, he reflected? When the +mentor of a man's common sense has forewarned him that he is being +shadowed by an inevitable spectre, and when that spectre steps suddenly +out into his path, he should not be astonished. Boone only sat there +with features branded under the shock of suffering. His fine young +shoulders, all at once, seemed to lose something of their straight +vigour and to grow tired. His palms rested inertly on his saddle pommel.</p> + +<p>But the girl leaned impulsively forward and laid one of her gloved hands +over his. Her voice was a caress—touched with only a pardonable trace +of reproach.</p> + +<p>"Do you doubt me, dear?" she asked. "In those politics that you are +playing, I don't see anybody giving up—because there is opposition +ahead."</p> + +<p>Then the momentary despair altered in his manner to a grim expression of +determination.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Anne," he begged. "It's not that I doubt you—or ever could +doubt you; but I know right well what a big word 'suitable' is in your +mother's whole plan of life."</p> + +<p>"I know it, too," was her grave response. "Mother's life has been an +unhappy one, and she has given it all to me. That's why I say I have +enough politics of my own. I couldn't bear to break her heart—and her +heart is set on Morgan. So you see it's going to take some doing."</p> + +<p>"Anne," he spoke firmly, but a tremour of feeling crept into his voice, +"Mrs. Masters loves you with such a big and single love that it can't +reason. Her own sufferings have come from knowing poverty, after she'd +taken wealth for granted—so that is the one danger she'll guard against +for you. It's an obsession with her. All the other things that might +wreck your life—such as marrying a man you didn't love, for +instance—she merely waves aside. If a man's been scarred with a knife, +he's apt to forget that others have not only been hurt but killed by +bullets. My God, dearest, she'll mean to be kind—but she'll put you on +the rack—she'll take you straight through the torture-chamber, in her +well-meant and cocksure certainty that she can choose for you better +than you can choose for yourself."</p> + +<p>"I think, Boone," said Anne, with more than a little pride in the +rich softness of her voice, "you wouldn't hang back, because you had +to come to me through things like that. I'm not afraid of the +torture-chamber—it's just that I want to make it as easy for mother as +I can."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>On the night before the first day of registration Boone was dining at +Colonel Wallifarro's house. Mrs. Masters found it difficult to maintain +a total concealment of her distrust of the mountain boy. In her own +heart she always thought of him as "that young upstart," but her worldly +wisdom safeguarded her against the mistaken attitude of open hostility +or even of too patronizing a tolerance. That course, she knew, had +driven many high-spirited daughters into open revolt. "Make a martyr of +him," she told herself with philosophically shrugged shoulders, "and you +can convert an ape into a hero."</p> + +<p>So after dinner Boone and the girl sat uninterrupted in the fine old +drawing-room where the age-ripened Jouett portraits hung, while Morgan +and his father went over some papers in the Colonel's study on the +second floor.</p> + +<p>"Boone," demanded the girl, "what is all this talk about camera squads +and inspection parties? I'm afraid Uncle Tom—and you, too—are going to +be running greater risks tomorrow than you admit."</p> + +<p>He had risen to say good night, but it is not on record that lovers +resent delays in their leave-takings.</p> + +<p>"At the registration every qualified voter must be enrolled," he told +her. "The camera squads have been formed to make rounds of the precincts +and take certain pictures."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because we have fairly reliable information that the town will be +overrun with flying squadrons of imported repeaters—and that the police +who should lock them up mean to protect them."</p> + +<p>"What are repeaters?" she naïvely inquired, and he enlightened her out +of the treasury of his newly acquired wisdom.</p> + +<p>"We believe that hundreds of floating and disreputable fellows have been +brought in from other towns and will be registered here as voters. After +registering they will disappear as unostentatiously as they came. But +meanwhile they will not satisfy themselves with being enrolled once, as +the decent citizens must do. They will go from precinct to precinct, +using fake addresses and changing names."</p> + +<p>He smiled grimly, and then added with inelegant directness:</p> + +<p>"We aim to get pictures of some of those birds—for use in court later."</p> + +<p>"And the police will hamper you?"</p> + +<p>"We don't expect much help from them."</p> + +<p>Anne's eyes clouded with apprehension. She laid her hands on the boy's +arms. "Boone," she exclaimed, "you know Uncle Tom. In spite of his +gentleness, indignation makes him reckless. Will he be armed tomorrow?"</p> + +<p>Boone shook his head. His eyes narrowed a little, and his tone indicated +personal disagreement with the decision which he repeated:</p> + +<p>"No. They've decided that since they're seeking reform they must keep +inside both the letter and the spirit of the law. They've advised every +one to go unarmed except for heavy walking sticks. Even that has brought +a howl of 'attempted intimidation' from the city hall crowd—but I +reckon their gangs won't be unheeled."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to be armed?"</p> + +<p>Boone hesitated, but finally he answered with a trace of the ironic: "I +haven't quite made up my mind yet. You see, I learned my politics in the +bloody hills—though I never carried a gun when I was campaigning +there. Here, where it's civilized—I'm not so sure."</p> + +<p>"Will you be with Uncle Tom, all the time tomorrow? Will you go +everywhere that he goes?" The question was put as an interrogation, but +it was an earnest plea as well, and Boone took both her hands in his. +They stood framed in the hall door, he holding her hands close pressed, +and her eyes giving him back look for look.</p> + +<p>"I'll be with him every minute he'll let me," he declared. "Of course a +soldier must obey orders, and he can't choose his station."</p> + +<p>It was standing like that with Boone holding Anne's hands, and their +faces close together, that Morgan, whose footsteps were soundless on the +carpeted stairway, saw them, and it was not a picture to reassure a +rival or to assuage the disdainful anger of a man of Morgan's +temperament for one whom he considered an ingrate and a presumptuous +upstart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + + +<p>Morgan's teeth closed with a slight click. The sinews of his chest and +arms tightened. Such insolence rightfully called for the chastisement of +cane or dog-whip, he thought, but that was impossible. He might +undertake to rebuke Boone openly but could hardly assume so high-handed +a course with Anne—or in her presence. He would nevertheless conduct +his own affairs in his own way; so, quietly and with no intimation that +he had been a witness to what he construed as an actual embrace, he +turned and went back to the stairhead.</p> + +<p>From there his voice, raised in a conversational tone to reach his +father in the study, carried with equal clarity to the room below.</p> + +<p>"Father," he called, "I'll see you in the morning. I have to run down to +the office for an hour or so now. I didn't quite finish looking over +those latest depositions in the Sweeney case."</p> + +<p>After having served that notice of his coming, he strolled casually down +the stairs—to overhear nothing more incriminating than Anne's earnest +exhortation: "Promise me not to take any foolish chances tomorrow," and +Boone's laugh, deprecating the apprehension. Boone held only one hand +now.</p> + +<p>But Morgan ground his teeth. The young cub had doubtless been trying to +capitalize his petty part in the petty political game, he reflected. +That was about the thing one might expect from a youth pitchforked into +polite society out of a vermin-infested log cabin, where the women +smoked pipes and dipped snuff! But his own bearing was outwardly +unruffled as he took down his hat from the old mahogany hall stand.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wellver," he suggested—(he always called Boone Mr. Wellver, +because that was his way of indicating his line of aloofness against +distasteful intimacy)—"could you come to the office this evening for a +while? There's a matter I'd like to talk about."</p> + +<p>Boone repressed the flash of surprise which the request brought into his +eyes. He knew of no business at the office in which he and Morgan had +shared responsibility, and heretofore Morgan had rather resented his +participation in any work more responsible or dignified than that of an +office boy or clerk.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," he answered. "I was going home, but of course if it's +important, I'll be there."</p> + +<p>"I regard it as important."</p> + +<p>Boone caught the intimation of threat, but Anne, knowing little of +law-office procedure, recognized only what she resentfully considered a +peremptory and supercilious note.</p> + +<p>Morgan nodded to Anne, and let himself out of the door, and less than an +hour later Boone entered the office building, deserted now save for the +night watchman, and for scattered suites, here and there, where window +lights told of belated clerks toiling over ledgers, or lawyers over +briefs.</p> + +<p>As the young man from the mountains let himself in through the door that +bore the name of his employer's firm, the other man was standing with +his back turned and his eyes fixed on some trifle on his desk. The back +of a standing figure, no less than its front, may be eloquent of its +feelings, and had the shoulder blades of Colonel Wallifarro's gifted son +been those of a hairy caveman, instead of an impeccably tailored modern, +there would perhaps have been bristles standing erect along his spine. +Wellver saw that warning of ugly mood in the instant before Morgan +wheeled, and he wheeled with a military quickness and precision.</p> + +<p>"I was a little bit puzzled," said the younger man, meeting the glaring +eyes with a coldly steady glance, "at your asking me to come here +tonight. I couldn't think of any work we'd been doing together."</p> + +<p>"I won't leave you in perplexity long," the wrathful voice of the other +assured him. "I asked you to come because I couldn't well say what +needed to be said under my father's roof—while you were a guest there."</p> + +<p>"I take it, then, that it's something uncomplimentary?"</p> + +<p>"I mean to go further than that."</p> + +<p>Boone nodded, but he came a step nearer, and the lids narrowed over his +eyes. "Whatever you might feel like saying to me, Mr. Wallifarro," he +announced evenly, "would be a thing I reckon I could answer in a like +spirit. But because I owe your father so much—that I've got to be +mighty guarded—I hope you won't push me too far."</p> + +<p>"I haven't the right to say whom my father shall permit in his house," +declared Morgan with, as yet, a certain remnant of restraint upon his +anger, "but I do assert plainly and categorically that I shan't remain +silent under the abuse of that hospitality."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you're still leaving me in considerable perplexity. I +believe you promised not to do that long."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather not go into details—and I think you know what I mean. I +came down the stairs there a short while ago. You were with Anne—and I +didn't like the picture I saw."</p> + +<p>"What picture?"</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, at least be honest!" retorted Morgan passionately. +"Whatever barbarities mountain men have, they are presumed to be +outspoken and direct of speech."</p> + +<p>"We generally aim to be. I'm asking <i>you</i> to be the same."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I mean to marry Anne, who is my cousin—and whose social +equal I am. It doesn't please me to have you confuse my father's welcome +with the idea of free and easy liberty. Is that clear?"</p> + +<p>Morgan was glaring up into Boone's eyes, since Boone stood several +inches the taller, and Boone's fingers ached to take him by the neck and +shake him as a terrier does a rat. The need of remembering whose son he +was became a trying obligation.</p> + +<p>"Does Anne—whose social equal you are—know—that you're going to marry +her?" he inquired, with a quiet which should have warned Morgan had he +just then been able to recognize warnings.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," was the curt rejoinder, and Boone laughed.</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Wallifarro," he said. "No—even that 'perhaps' is a lie. She +doesn't so much as suspect it. As for me, I know you are <i>not</i> going to +marry her."</p> + +<p>Morgan had turned and walked around behind his desk, and as Boone added +his paralyzing announcement, he threw open the drawer. "I aim to marry +her myself—when I've made good—if she'll have me."</p> + +<p>Morgan halted, half bent over, and his eyes burned madly.</p> + +<p>"You!" he exclaimed, with a boiling over of contemptuous rage. "You +damned baboon!"</p> + +<p>The words had sent Wellver, like the force of uncoiled springs, vaulting +over the table, and his face had gone paste-white. Yet as he landed on +the far side he halted and drew himself rigidly straight, though to keep +his arms inactive at his sides he had to tense every sinew from wrist to +shoulder, until each fibre ached with the cramp of repression. He had +caught himself on the brink of murder lust, with the murder fog in his +eyes. He had caught himself and now he held himself with a desperate +sense of need, though he saw Morgan's fingers close over the stock of a +heavy revolver. He even smiled briefly as he noted that it was a gun +with an elegant pearl grip.</p> + +<p>"If any other man of God's earth had fathered you," he said, each word +coming separately like the drippings from an icicle, "I'd prove that I +wasn't only a baboon but a gorilla—and I'd prove it by pulling the +snobbish head off of your damned, tailor-made shoulders. People don't +generally say things like that to me and go free."</p> + +<p>Morgan too was pallid with anger, and in neither of them was any +tragedy-averting possibility of faltering courage. Wallifarro held the +pistol before him, and gave back a step—only one, and that one not in +retreat but in order that he might have a chance to speak before he was +forced to fire.</p> + +<p>"I realize perfectly," he said, "that physically I'd be helpless in your +hands. I'm as much your inferior in brute strength as—as mentally and +socially—you are—mine. I don't want to take any advantage of you—it +seems that we have to fight.—I'm waiting for you to draw."</p> + +<p>He paused there, breathing heavily, and Boone stood unmoving, his hands +still at his sides.</p> + +<p>"I'm not armed," he said, and now he had recovered a less strained +composure. "Why should I come with a gun on me when a gentleman of high +social standing invites me to his office?"</p> + +<p>"You're quibbling," Morgan burst out with a fresh access of fury. +"You've given me the right to demand satisfaction. You've got a pistol +in your desk there, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe so. Why do you ask? Isn't one gun enough for you when your man's +unarmed?"</p> + +<p>"Great God," shouted the Colonel's son, "are you trying to goad me into +insanity? <i>You</i> are going to need one sorely in a moment. I give you +fair warning. I'm tired of waiting. Will you arm yourself?"</p> + +<p>Boone shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I told you when I came in here why I wouldn't fight you. I can't fight +your father's son. You know as damned well as you know you're living +that no other man on earth could say the things you've said and go +unpunished—and you know just that damned well, too, why I'm holding my +hand."</p> + +<p>As he paused, both were breathing as heavily as though their battle had +been violently physical instead of only verbal, and it was Boone who +spoke next.</p> + +<p>"Put away that gun," he ordered curtly. "Unless you're still bent on +doing murder."</p> + +<p>He stepped forward until his chest came in contact with the muzzle, his +own hands still unlifted.</p> + +<p>"Get back!" barked Morgan, who stood with his back against the desk. "If +you crowd me I <i>will</i> shoot."</p> + +<p>There was a swift panther-like sweep of Boone's right arm and Morgan +felt fingers closing about his wrist. Then reason left him and he +pressed the trigger.</p> + +<p>But no report started echoes in the empty building. Morgan felt only the +bone-crushing pressure that made his wrist ache as it was forced up, and +then he saw that the hand which had closed vice-like on it had one +finger thrust between the hammer and firing pin of his weapon.</p> + +<p>The reaction left him dizzy, as he reflected that he had done all that +man could do toward homicide and had been halted only by his unarmed +adversary's quicker thought and action. Boone uncocked the firearm and +laid it on the table, under the other's hand.</p> + +<p>"I guess you see now," said Morgan in a low voice, "that after this the +two of us can't stay in this office."</p> + +<p>Boone nodded. "I know, too, that I've got to get out. You're his son, +but"—his voice leaped—"but I know that having held myself in this long +I can last a little longer. You're too sanctified for politics and dirty +work like that. But your father's in it—and until this election is over +I'm going to stay right with him—I'm going to do it because he's in +actual danger. After that I'll quit—I'm not afraid of cooling off too +much in the meantime, are you?"</p> + +<p>"By God, <span class="smcap">NO</span>!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + + +<p>Boone rose by gas-light the next morning and from the bureau of his hall +bedroom, after removing a slender pile of shirts and underwear, he +extracted a heavy-calibred revolver in a battered holster of the +mountain type—the kind that fits under the left armpit, supported by a +shoulder strap.</p> + +<p>He took the thing out of its case and scrupulously examined into the +smoothness of its working after long disuse, debating the while whether +to take it or leave it. He knew that though the "pure in heart"—as an +administration speaker had humorously characterized the myrmidons of the +city hall—might, with impunity, carry—and even use—concealed weapons, +he and his like need expect no leniency in the courts for similar +conduct. The advice at headquarters had been emphatic on that point: +"Keep well within the law. There may be court sequels."</p> + +<p>But Boone meant to be Colonel Wallifarro's bodyguard that day. He felt +designated and made responsible for the Colonel's safety by Anne, and he +knew that before nightfall contingencies might arise which would +overshadow lesser and technical considerations. So he strapped the +holster under his waistcoat, and went out into the autumn morning, which +was gray and still save for the rumbling of occasional milk wagons.</p> + +<p>At Fusion headquarters few others had yet arrived, but shortly he was +joined by Colonel Wallifarro and General Prince, and within the hour the +barren suite of rooms was close thronged and thick with the smoke of +many cigars. Telephones were ajingle, and outside in the street a dozen +motors were parked.</p> + +<p>Nor was there any suspense of long waiting before events broke into +racing stride, as a field of horses breaks from the upflung barrier.</p> + +<p>From a half dozen sources came hurried complaints of flagrant violations +and of police violence or police blindness.</p> + +<p>When the polling places had been open an hour the wires grew feverish. +"A crowd of fifteen men came here and registered at opening time," +announced one herald. "Forty-five minutes later the same gang came back +and registered again. The protest of our challenger was ignored."</p> + +<p>There were not enough telephones to carry the traffic of lamentation and +complaint. "Our camera men are being assaulted and their instruments +smashed...." "The Chief of Police has just been here and left +instructions that snapshotting is an invasion of private rights. He has +ordered his men to lock up all photographers...." "Our judge in this +precinct challenged a man when he tried to register, the second time, +and a crowd of thugs with blackjacks rushed the place and beat him +unconscious. The police said they saw no difficulty."</p> + +<p>So came the burden of chorused indignation, and the automobiles began +cruising outward on tours of investigation and protest. The "boys" had +been assured that they were to have "all the protection in the world," +and they were "going to it."</p> + +<p>From this and that section of the city arrived news of men who had been +blackjacked, crowd-handled and arrested, but out of the whole rapidly +developing reign of terror certain precincts stood forth conspicuous. +Seated beside Colonel Wallifarro in the dust-covered car that raced from +ward to ward, while the Colonel's face streamed sweat from the hurried +tempo of his exertions, Boone marvelled at the fashion in which these +men combined indomitable perseverance with self-contained patience. +Often he himself burned with an angry impulse to jump down from his seat +and punish the insolent effrontery of some ruffian in uniform.</p> + +<p>"I reckon you don't know who these gentlemen are," he protested at one +time to a police sergeant, whose manner had passed beyond impertinence +and become abuse.</p> + +<p>"No and I don't give a damn who they are," retorted the guardian of +peace. "I know what this business means to me. It's four years with a +job or four years without one."</p> + +<p>Twice during the morning they were called to a building that had once +been a shoemaker's shop. The erstwhile showcase was dimmed by the dust +of a dry summer and the grimy smears of a rainy autumn. There the tide +of bulldozing had run to flood, and the Fusion judge of registration, an +undersized chap with an oversized courage, had wrangled and fought +against overweening odds until they took him away with both eyes closed +beyond usefulness. A challenger with less stomach for punishment had +borne the brunt as long as he could—and weakened. Colonel Wallifarro's +car stood before the place and, with a weary gesture, he turned to +Boone.</p> + +<p>"My boy," he said shortly, "we've got to put a man in there. I don't +like to ask it—but you'll have to take that challenger's place."</p> + +<p>Boone had seen enough that morning to make him extremely reluctant to +leave the Colonel's side, and he answered evasively, "I'm not a citizen +of this town, Colonel."</p> + +<p>"You don't have to be to challenge." So Boone went in. The place was +foul with the stench of bad tobacco. The registration officers, who had +so far had their way, were openly truculent.</p> + +<p>"Here comes a new Sunday-school guy," sneered a clerk with a debauched +face, looking up from the broad page of the enrolment book. "I wonder +how long <i>he'll</i> last."</p> + +<p>For a time it seemed that Boone was to enjoy immunity from the heckling +under which his predecessors had fallen, but the word had gone out that +a "bad guy" had come in for the Fusionists who needed handling, and his +apparent acceptance was nothing more than the quiet that goes before the +bursting of a thunder head.</p> + +<p>His place was inside, so he could make no move when news drifted in that +one of the outside watchers had been assaulted and perhaps seriously +hurt, though he guessed that the car, in which he had been riding that +day, would again roll up, and that perhaps Colonel Wallifarro would once +more be the target of gutter insult. Indeed, he fancied he recognized +the toot of that particular horn a few minutes later, but as he strained +his ears to make something of the confusion outside the door burst open +and a group of a dozen or so ruffians forced their way into the cramped +space, brandishing sticks and pistols.</p> + +<p>"Where's this here fly guy at?" demanded the truculent leader of the +invasion, and others used fouler expletives. Boone should perhaps have +felt complimented that such a handsome number should have been told off +to deal with his case, but as he rose to his feet he caught a glimpse +over their heads of Colonel Wallifarro standing in his car outside and +of confused disorder eddying about it.</p> + +<p>Boone drew so quickly that there was no opportunity to halt him, and he +fired as unhesitantly as he had drawn. With a threat unfinished on his +lips the leader of the "flying squadron" crumpled to the floor, and with +swift transition from bravos to fugitives his tatterdemalion gang left +on the run.</p> + +<p>Boone, with the pistol still in his hand, hurried out to the sidewalk, +and at the picture which met his eyes halted on the dirty threshold.</p> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro still stood in the car, but on the sidewalk was +General Prince, and the chivalric old gentleman was wiping blood from +his face, while the dust on his clothes told clearly enough that he had +been knocked down. Boone's veins were channels of liquid fire.</p> + +<p>But that was not all. Morgan Wallifarro, still as immaculate as usual, +was standing two paces away, and a burly policeman with a club raised +over his head was abusing him with vicious obscenities.</p> + +<p>So Morgan was no longer sulking in his tent! Morgan had belatedly taken +his place at the Colonel's side, and as he stood there, threatened with +a night-stick, Boone heard his declaration of war.</p> + +<p>"I've never been in politics before," he declared in a voice of +white-hot fury, "but I'm in now to stay until every damned jackal of you +is whipped out of office—and whipped into the penitentiary. Now hit me +with that stick—I dare you—hit me!"</p> + +<p>Still brandishing the club above the young lawyer's head with his right +hand, the patrolman shoved him roughly in the chest with his left. He +was obviously seeking to force Morgan into striking at him so that, +given a specious plea of self-defence, he might crack his skull.</p> + +<p>It was then the voice of Boone sounded from the rear:</p> + +<p>"Yes, hit him—I dare you, too!"</p> + +<p>The officer wheeled, to see the tall and physically impressive figure of +the mountain man standing the width of the sidewalk away. He held a +pistol, not levelled but swinging at his side, and as if in silent +testimony that it was not a mere plaything a thin wisp of smoke still +eddied about its mouth and the acrid smell of burnt powder came +insidiously out through the door.</p> + +<p>Boone strolled forward.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wallifarro, get back in that car," he directed. "This blue-belly +isn't going to trouble you."</p> + +<p>"What the hell have you got to do with this?" bellowed the officer, but +the club came down. "You are under arrest."</p> + +<p>"Show me your warrant."</p> + +<p>"I don't need no warrant."</p> + +<p>The crowd, including those who had fled from the registration room, hung +back in a yapping but hesitant circle. Blackjacking non-combatants had +proven keen sport, but this fellow with the revolver in a hand that +seemed used to revolvers, and a gleam in the eye that seemed to relish +the situation, gave them pause.</p> + +<p>Somewhat blankly the officer reiterated his pronunciamento. "I don't +need no warrant."</p> + +<p>"This gun says you need one," came the calm rejoinder. "You've got one +yourself, and you can whistle up plenty of other harness bulls—all +armed, but if you do I'll get you first. My name is Boone Wellver. Now, +are you going to get that warrant or not?"</p> + +<p>For an instant the policeman hesitated; then he conceded as though he +had never contested the point.</p> + +<p>"I ain't got no objection in the world to swearing out a warrant for +you—since you've told me what your name is. But don't try to make no +get-away till I come back."</p> + +<p>"I'll be right here—when you come back."</p> + +<p>The patrolman turned and walked away, and Boone wheeled briskly to the +car.</p> + +<p>"Now you gentlemen get out of this—and do a little warrant-swearing +yourselves. Be over at Central Station in about forty-five minutes fixed +to give bond for me. I reckon I'll be needing it."</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later, with a spectacular clanging of gongs, a police patrol +clattered up, scattering the crowd and disgorging a wagonload of +officers headed by a lieutenant with a drawn pistol.</p> + +<p>They handled Boone with unnecessary roughness as they nipped the +handcuffs on his wrists and bundled him into the wagon, but he had +expected that. It was their cheap revenge, and he gave them no +satisfaction of complaint.</p> + +<p>In the cage at Central Station into which they thrust him, with more +violence, his companions were a drunken negro and one or two other +"election offenders" like himself.</p> + +<p>It was through the grating that he looked out a half hour later, to see +Morgan Wallifarro standing outside.</p> + +<p>"Father and the General are arranging bond," announced the visitor. "I +wanted a word with you alone."</p> + +<p>Boone's only response was an acquiescent nod.</p> + +<p>"I lost my head last night, Wellver," Morgan went on shamefacedly. "I +was a damned fool, of course, to imagine that I could bully you, and a +cad as well. I lied when I intimated that you were—not anybody's equal. +If I were you, I'd refuse to accept an apology, but at all events I've +got to offer it—abjectly and humbly."</p> + +<p>There was no place in the close-netted grating of that door through +which a hand could be thrust, and Boone grinned boyishly as he said, "I +accept your advice and refuse to shake hands with you—Wallifarro—until +the door's opened."</p> + +<p>Boone's pistol was held, of course, as evidence, but without it he went +back to the registration booth, and as he took his seat the man of the +debauched face looked up, with surprised eyes, from his book; but this +time he volunteered no comment.</p> + +<p>In the police court on the following morning both Boone and his +arresting officer were presented, as defendants, and the officer's case +was called first on the docket. Taking the stand in his own defence, the +officer glibly testified that he had struck General Prince, of whose +identity he had been unfortunately ignorant, because that gentleman had +seemed to make a motion toward his hip pocket, but that he had, under +much goading, refrained from striking Morgan Wallifarro.</p> + +<p>"Why," purred the shyster who defended him, "did you so govern your +temper under serious provocation?" And the unctuous reply was promptly +and virtuously forthcoming: "Because police officers are ordered not to +use no more force than what they have to."</p> + +<p>General Prince smiled quietly, but Morgan fidgeted in his chair.</p> + +<p>The police judge cleared his throat. "It appears obvious to the Court," +he ruled, "that a man of General Prince's high character did not intend +to threaten or hamper an officer in the proper performance of his sworn +duty. But these gentlemen in the heat and passion of political fervour +seem to have assumed—unintentionally, perhaps—a somewhat high-handed +and domineering attitude. It would be manifestly unjust to exact of a +mere patrolman a superior temperateness of judgment. Let the case be +dismissed."</p> + +<p>But when Boone was called to the dock, the magistrate eyed him severely +not through, but over, his glasses, putting into that silent scrutiny +the stern disapproval of a man looking down his nose.</p> + +<p>"I find three charges against this defendant," he announced. "The first +is shooting and wounding; the second, carrying concealed a deadly +weapon, and the third, interference with an officer in the discharge of +his duty."</p> + +<p>The wounding of the flying squadron's leader was a matter for the +future, since the victim of the bullet lay in a hospital, and that case +had already been continued under a heavy bond. After hearing the +evidence on the other accusations, the judge again cleared his throat.</p> + +<p>"The 'pistol-toter' is a constant menace to the peace of the community, +and there seems to be no doubt of guilt in the present case—but since +the defendant has recently come from a section of the State which +condones that offence, the Court is inclined to be lenient. The +resistance to the officer was also a grave and inexcusable matter, but +because of the character testimony given by General Prince and Colonel +Wallifarro, I am going to give him the benefit of the doubt. I will, on +my own motion, amend these charges to disorderly conduct. Mr. Clerk, +enter a fine of $19 and a bond of $1,000 for a year."</p> + +<p>Morgan Wallifarro was, at once, on his feet.</p> + +<p>"May it please your Honour, such a punishment is either much too severe +or much too lenient. I move, your Honour, to increase the fine."</p> + +<p>"Motion overruled," came the laconic judgment. "Mr. Clerk, call the next +case."</p> + +<p>"Your Honour has fixed a punishment," protested Colonel Wallifarro's son +with a deliberately challenging note in his voice, "which is the highest +fine in your power to inflict without opening to us the door of appeal. +Had you added one dollar, we could have carried it to the Circuit +Court—and we believe that it was only for the purpose of denying us +that right that you amended the charges. In the court of public opinion, +before which even judges must stand judgment, I shall endeavour to make +that unequivocally clear."</p> + +<p>"Fine Mr. Wallifarro twenty dollars for contempt of Court!" This time +the voice from the bench rasped truculently, forgetting its suavity. +"And commit him to jail for twenty-four hours."</p> + +<p>That evening Boone Wellver paid two calls behind the barred doors of the +city prison. One was to Asa Gregory, who still languished there, and the +other to the lawyer who had been willing to pay for his last word.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry you lashed out, Wallifarro," said Boone. "But I'd be willing +to change places with you, for the satisfaction of having said it."</p> + +<p>Morgan grinned with a strong show of white teeth.</p> + +<p>"It's cheap at the price," he declared, "and as for lashing out, I +haven't begun yet. From now on I'm going to work regularly at this +contempt of court job, unless I can put some of these gentry behind bars +or make them swim the river. I've hung back for a long while but now +I've enlisted for the war."</p> + +<p>As Judge McCabe had said, Morgan lacked the diplomatic touch.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + + +<p>One morning of frosty tang, that touched the pulses with its livening, +found Boone's eyes and thoughts wandering discursively from the papers +massed on his desk. His customary concentration had become a slack +force, though these were days of pressing hours and insistent minutes in +the Wallifarro offices. The reception room was crowded with waiting +figures that savoured of the motley, and this was one of the new things +brought to pass by the strange bedfellowship of politics. Yonder in a +corner sat with fidgeting restiveness a young man whose eyes, despite +his obvious youth, were mature in guile and pouched with that pasty +ugliness with which unwholesome night life trade-marks its own.</p> + +<p>He was one of that crew imported from elsewhere to register, re-register +and vanish, but he had lingered, and now a grievance had sent him +skulking to the enemy's camp with vengeance in his heart. In an interval +of political inaction he had picked a pocket and had been locked up by a +"harness bull" who had never liked him and who chose to disregard his +present and special prerogative. In court he had been dismissed with an +admonition, it is true, but his dignity was affronted. This morning he +sat in the anteroom of Morgan Wallifarro, ready, in the inelegant but +candid parlance of his ilk, to "spit up his guts."</p> + +<p>Not far from him sat a woman whose profession was one of the most +ancient and least revered. The vivid colouring of her lips and cheeks +shone out through thickly laid powder in ghastly simulation of a coarse +beauty long fled. "I lodged a good half-dozen of those beer-drinking +loafers, though they roistered and drove away my respectable trade—and +then the cops had the nerve to raid me," she inwardly lamented. Now she, +too, sat among the informers.</p> + +<p>Morgan had complained that reformers always failed through their dreamy +impracticability. Now he was being as practical as the foes he sought to +overthrow. From the dribble of small leaks come the breaks that wreck +dams, and Morgan was neglecting none of them.</p> + +<p>To Boone, whom he no longer quarantined behind a manner of aloofness, he +had confided, "We have no illusions about the courts. Their judgments +will bear the label of party, not justice; but when they turn us down I +mean to make them do it in the face of a record that will damn them +before the public."</p> + +<p>So, together with gentlemen like General Prince and ministers of the +Gospel bearing sworn narratives of police browbeating, came the backwash +of the discontented riffraff: deserters who were willing to disclose +their secrets to appease their various resentments.</p> + +<p>Boone, who had played simple and direct politics in the backwoods, found +himself in the midst of a more intricate version of the game—and into +it he had thrown all the weight of his energies—until this morning.</p> + +<p>Now, as he sat gazing out over roofs and chimney-pots, a messenger boy, +impatient of anteroom delays, burst officiously into his office.</p> + +<p>"Are you Mr. Morgan Wallifarro?" he demanded, scanning a label on the +package he bore, and, as Boone shook his head, he heard Morgan's voice +behind him: "I'm the man you're looking for."</p> + +<p>Then as the younger Wallifarro took the package from the snub-nosed +Mercury, he opened it, revealing a gold-knobbed riding crop. Once before +that morning the young attorney had halted the all-but-congested tide of +business to telephone to a florist, and through the open door Boone had +heard the order given. Then Morgan had directed that violets and orchids +be sent that evening to Miss Anne Masters. Presumably the riding crop +was bound for the same destination.</p> + +<p>"Anne's riding some of those Canadian hunters tonight at the Horse +Show," was Morgan's casually put remark as he felt Boone's eyes upon +him. "I thought she might like this."</p> + +<p>It was the first time that Anne's name had passed conversationally +between them since the evening when, in that same office, Morgan's +pistol had clicked harmlessly, and upon each face fell a faint shadow of +embarrassment. Then Wellver admitted, "It's a very handsome one," and +the other passed on into his own office.</p> + +<p>Already Boone had been thinking of those Canadian hunters. It was that +which had lured his mind away from his littered desk and filled him with +the spirit of truancy.</p> + +<p>Tonight would see the opening of the Horse Show with the fanfare of its +brass bands and the spreading of its peacock plumes of finery.</p> + +<p>Following upon it, as musical numbers follow an overture, would come the +dances for the débutantes, and Anne would be a débutante. In that far, +tonight would be a sort of door closing against himself as one holding +no membership in that circle whose edicts were written by Fashion. It +was, however, of another phase of the matter that his present +restiveness was born. Yesterday afternoon he had slipped into the +emptiness of the Horse Show building for an inquisitive half hour, and +had seen a hard bitten stable boy trying to rehearse a stubborn roan +over the jumps.</p> + +<p>The heavy white bars stretching between the wings of the hurdle had +looked to him—thinking then, as now, of Anne—disquietingly formidable +and full of bone-breaking possibilities. This morning she was to +acquaint herself with her mounts. She might even now be at the hazardous +business. Suddenly Boone pushed back his papers, locked the drawer of +his desk, and took down his hat and overcoat. He was playing hookey.</p> + +<p>Steps hurried by anxiety carried him to the building, where the great +roof was festively draped with bunting and where the smell of tanbark +came up fresh to the nostrils. A stretch of empty galleries and vacant +tiers of boxes gave an impression of roofed vastness, and he searched +the spacious arena, dotted here and there with knots of stable boys and +blanketed horses, until he caught sight of Anne.</p> + +<p>The mount to whose saddle she was at the moment being lifted was not +reassuring to his mood. To its bit rings hung a stable boy by both +hands, and the boy's dogged set of countenance bespoke hostile distrust +for his charge, whose nostrils were distended and ember red. Boone +noted, too, as he hurried across the tanbark, that one of the animal's +eyes showed that wicked patch of white which bespeaks, for a horse, a +lawless predilection. As the girl settled herself, the beast flinched +and shivered, and the stable boy seemed about to be lifted clear of the +earth where he hung, anchoring the splendidly shaped but vicious head.</p> + +<p>Just then Boone came up and heard a fellow, whom he took to be a +trainer, speaking near his elbow.</p> + +<p>"There ain't no jump that will stop him. He can skim six foot like a +swallow and cop every ribbon at the show—if he's a mind to. And if he +<i>ain't</i> got a mind to, he'll just raise merry hell and tear up the +place."</p> + +<p>Then the groom cast loose, and the horse launched himself upward, +plunging violently and lashing out with his fore-feet.</p> + +<p>Boone halted and caught his breath with a nervous intake. He knew that +Anne rarely and most reluctantly used a whip on a horse, and as he saw +her lash fall twice, three times, with resolute sweeps that brought out +welts upon the satin flanks, he realized that she had been warned upon +what manner of horse she was to mount. It was a brief conflict of wills, +then the red-nostrilled gelding came down to all fours and answered +amenably to rein and bit. Round the arena he swept with the rhythm of +his rapid gallop, breaking to a speedy dash as he neared the obstacles, +rising upon a flawless and seemingly winged arc that skimmed the fences +with swallow-like ease. Anne rode back flushed and triumphant, and as +Boone came up, with breathing that was still quick, he heard the trainer +voicing his commendation:</p> + +<p>"You handled him like a professional, Miss Masters, and he takes a bit +of handling, too. There ain't many ladies I'd be willin' to put up on +him." Then the practical Canadian added, as Anne slid down and laid her +gloved hand on the steaming neck: "He's a classy-looking individual, +ain't he now? You'd never guess that I took him out of a plough, would +you?"</p> + +<p>"Out of a plough!" echoed the girl. "Why, he's a picture horse! His +lines are almost perfect!"</p> + +<p>The horseman nodded and grinned. "He's all of that, ma'am, but just the +same when I first saw him he was pulling a plough—or, rather, he was +trying to run away with one. Of course he must of had the breeding +somewhere way off. I reckon he's a throw-back, but if I hadn't come +along and seen him he'd still be drudging away on a rocky farm in the +hills. As it is, he's took blues and reds all through Canada and the +East—and I've a notion you're going to ride him out the gate with a +championship tie on his brow-band tonight."</p> + +<p>As Boone turned away with Anne, the words seemed to ring in his ears: +"If I hadn't come along and seen him, he'd still be drudging away on a +rocky farm in the hills." It fitted his own case precisely, but it made +him think, too. He wondered if the time would ever come when people +would look at him in public places and find it hard to realize that his +youth had been like that magnificent show horse's colthood—a life close +to the clods.</p> + +<p>Nothing could have kept Boone Wellver away from the Horse Show that +evening, but he went with a self-confessed trepidation hard to conceal. +In the wide, barnlike foyer of the building, a vertigo of stage fright +obsessed him. Never had he seen such a massed and bewilderingly +colourful display of evening dress, nor heard such a confused chorus of +bright laughter, light talk and blaring orchestration. In the first +dizziness of the impression he had the sense of intruding on Fashion +vaunting itself unabashed to the trumpetings of heralds, and there swept +back over him the positive pain of diffidence which he had felt that +other time, when he stood in the open doorway of Colonel Wallifarro's +house and announced that he had come to the party.</p> + +<p>Inside, as he forced himself onward, his disquiet increased as the blaze +of colour heightened and bloomed in the flower-like tiers of the boxes. +The glistening shoulders of women in filmy gowns, the sparkle of +jewellery, the flash of silk hats and the nodding of pretty faces, all +confused him as dry land things might confuse a fish, and he felt +unintentionally impertinent when his sleeve of decent black brushed a +soft arm white gloved to the shoulder.</p> + +<p>Boone Wellver would have fled incontinently from that place had he not +been held there by his anxiety for Anne, which would not be allayed +until the ladies' hunters had been judged, the ribbons pinned on the +fortunate head-stalls and the exit gates swung open and closed. And the +jumping class, with its spectacular dash of danger, was held for the +last, as the climax is held for the curtain of the act.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + + +<p>But while Boone waited for Anne to come into the ring he made no +assiduous search for her in the boxes, because, like many other men +whose outward seeming is one of boldness, he was fettered by an +inordinate shyness in this heavy atmosphere of the unaccustomed. Later +Anne accused him of snubbing her. "You passed right by me a half dozen +times," she teased with violet mischief shimmering in her eyes. "You +wouldn't even look at me."</p> + +<p>"I was plain scared," he made candid admission; "but when you went into +the ring I looked at you every minute."</p> + +<p>"You're jolly well right you did," she laughed. "You were glued to the +rail, tramping down women and small children. Every time I came round I +saw you there and your face haunted me like a spirit in purgatory. Your +eyes were positively bulging with terror."</p> + +<p>"That's what you get," Boone retorted calmly, "for making a +chicken-hearted fellow fall in love with you. I had to hang 'round and +wait. I could no more pursue you through the roses and diamonds than a +cat could follow you into water."</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head with a bewildered indulgence. "I can't +understand it," she protested. "There is nothing to be frightened +about."</p> + +<p>The young mountaineer grinned sheepishly. "I reckon a lion-tamer would +say the same thing," he asserted, "about going into the cage. He's used +to it."</p> + +<p>Anne sat silent for a few moments, and between her eyes came a tiny +pucker, as if a thought tinged with pain had pricked, thornlike, into +her reflections.</p> + +<p>At last she spoke slowly: "Suppose you couldn't swim, and I had to +spend a lot of time in deep water. Wouldn't you learn?"</p> + +<p>"That's different," he assured her. "You might need me in that event."</p> + +<p>"You say society frightens you, and it's a thing I can't understand. I +could understand its boring you. It bores me. I love informal things. I +love my friends and the door that stands open as it always does here, +but I hate the dress parades. There's some sense in the Horse Show. It +makes a market for expensively bred and trained animals, and it's a sort +of fancy advertising; but I don't care for a human application of the +same idea."</p> + +<p>"I feel that way, too," he responded quickly, "and not being expensively +bred or trained, I can't escape feeling like a cart horse would feel in +that ring."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to make my début, Boone," she said quietly. "I'm going to do +it because both mother and Uncle Tom have their hearts set on it and +there's no graciousness in stubborn resistance. There are times coming +when I've got to stand out against them, and I don't want to multiply +them needlessly. But there's something more than just ordinary dislike +back of my feeling as I do about it all, and I think it's a thing you'd +be the first to understand."</p> + +<p>"I guess I ought to understand, Anne, but I've got so much to learn. +Please make allowances for me and explain." His tone was humble and +self-accusing.</p> + +<p>"This début ball is just their way of putting me on the marriage +market—duly labelled and proclaimed. I don't fancy being put up at +auction, and it doesn't even seem quite honest. It's not a genuine offer +of sale, because it's all fixed in their own minds. Morgan is to bid me +in when the time comes."</p> + +<p>Boone's face grew sombre, and his strong mouth line stiffened over his +resolute chin.</p> + +<p>"God knows that arrangement is going to come to grief," he said in a low +voice that shook with feeling.</p> + +<p>"Not if Lochinvar doesn't come to the party," she retorted with a swift +change to the riffle of laughing eyes. "I'm letting sleeping dogs lie +for the present, Boone, because it's the best way. There isn't any doubt +of you in my heart. You know that, but it will be a long time before you +can marry me. Meantime,—" the battle light shone for a flashing instant +in her pupils—"I'm standing out for one thing. They've got to give you +full acknowledgment. Everybody that accepts me must accept you—and +unless you claim recognition, they won't do it."</p> + +<p>Boone rose and came over. He took her hands in his own and looked down +at her, and, though he smiled, his voice was full of worship.</p> + +<p>"Lochinvar will come, dearest," he declared. "He'll come in full +war-paint, and nobody but himself will know how stiff he's scared."</p> + +<p>It was the morning after that that Boone sat again as a defendant in the +police court, flanked by Morgan and the Colonel. He was on trial for +shooting and wounding, and there had been broadly circulated hints that +his prosecution would be gruelling enough to dissuade bold and adverse +spirits on election day. Yet when the case was reached on the docket, +Henry Simpson, whose finger was in every pie as a master pastry cook for +the intrenched element, arose from his place at the right hand of the +court's prosecutor and sonorously cleared his throat.</p> + +<p>"May it please your Honour," he announced, with the rhetorical dignity +of a Roman senator—or a criminal lawyer's idea of a Roman senator—"the +prosecuting witness harbours no feeling of rancour in this affair, +despite the injuries which he sustained. The defendant seems to have +been led astray in the hot enthusiasm of his youth by older heads. +Having no wish to punish a cat's-paw for the responsibility of his +mentors, we move the dismissal of the accused."</p> + +<p>"And we, your Honour," came the uptake of Morgan Wallifarro so swiftly +as to leave no margin of pause between statement and retort, "insist +upon a trial and a full vindication. This prosecuting witness who would +now spread the benign mantle of charity over the conduct of his +assailant, fell face foremost while leading an armed raid on a +registration booth. I am prepared to prove that the wounded man who now +sits there, an exemplar of Christian forgiveness, was spirited away, +after his gang fled, and cared for in a private room at the City +Hospital under the tender auspices of certain officials. I am further +prepared to prove that the name which this municipal favourite now wears +is, for him, a new one and that until recently he was known as Kid +Repetto whose likeness and Bertillon measurements are preserved in the +local rogues' gallery. The profession which he ornamented until the city +hall cried out for his skilled aid was burglary and second-story work—"</p> + +<p>The judicial gavel fell with an admonitory slam, and the magisterial +jaws came warningly together.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wallifarro," declared the judge, "the court sustains the +prosecution's motion of dismissal. Your unproven statements are highly +improper in their innuendo of collusion by an officer of this court. You +are seeking to try this case in the newspapers, sir," and Morgan, +closing his portfolio, smiled his mocking admission of the charge. He +had watched the busy pencils at the press table, and knew that some of +them would blossom in flaring headlines. He had seen the cartoonist who +had come to make a pencil sketch of Boone himself finish his task, and +he enjoyed the judge's resentment. Now he turned away with the +irritating jauntiness of one who has scored.</p> + +<p>But that evening, at the Horse Show, Boone suffered the embarrassment of +that flare-up of publicity which he felt was purely adventitious. Chance +had made him a scrap in a pattern of ephemeral interest, and to him it +seemed that one man in three carried an afternoon paper in his pocket +with his own hasty albeit recognizable portrait starkly displayed to the +public gaze. On faces which he did not know he caught smiles of amused +recognition, and on one which he did know a glower of hate. That was +the face of the policeman who had arrested him.</p> + +<p>Some of the women in the boxes had him dragged before them for +introduction, and he responded with a shyness that was cloaked under the +reserve of his half-barbaric dignity.</p> + +<p>Anne smiled, and a proprietary pride lurked in her expression.</p> + +<p>"Anne looks as docile and amiable as a sweet child," sighed Mrs. Masters +to Colonel Wallifarro, as he bade her good night that same evening, "but +she's got Larry's British stubbornness in every fibre."</p> + +<p>"Added," suggested the Colonel with a truant twinkle, "to the admirable +resoluteness of our own family."</p> + +<p>"She's absolutely set on having this young protégé of yours at her début +ball, and I suppose you know what that signifies. It means that through +her whole social career he'll be dangling along frightening off really +eligible men!" The lady gave a well-bred little snort of disdain. "He's +about as possible as a pet toad!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel laughed.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid, my dear, that I like Anne the better for it. We've agreed +that Morgan is your choice, and mine—and I don't think Morgan is going +to be scared off. Besides, this young man is in my office."</p> + +<p>"So is your office cat—if you have one," sniffed the anxious mother. +"We're not sending the cat an invitation, you know."</p> + +<p>"I have no cat," observed the lawyer with perfect gravity, and Mrs. +Masters shrugged her shoulders with unconvinced resignation.</p> + +<p>When the telephone on Boone's desk rang one afternoon he was quite alone +there, and he took up the receiver, to hear Anne's voice. The +conversation at first indicated no definite objective, but after a +little the girl demanded:</p> + +<p>"Boone, you <i>are</i> coming to my party—aren't you?"</p> + +<p>For a moment the young man hung hesitantly on the question; then he +said: "Anne, I'd go anywhere for the chance of seeing you, but you know +'I hain't nuver run a set in my life. My folks they don't hold hit ter +be godly.'"</p> + +<p>Her laughter tinkled back to him, but he had caught the underlying +insistence of her tone, and he remembered what she had said about this +ball: what it meant to her, and what his being there meant too.</p> + +<p>"Take young Lochinvar for instance," he went on banteringly yet with a +dubious touch in his voice. "It wasn't the first party of the season +that he came to, was it? And even at the finish he was a little late. +Maybe there was some delay in getting his coat of mail ready."</p> + +<p>"Oh," the girl's exclamation was one of quick understanding. She knew +something of Boone's financial pinch, and how he felt it a point of +honour to stretch as far as possible the fund his patron had left him. +"You mean—" she broke off, and the young mountaineer spoke bluntly,</p> + +<p>"I mean I haven't a dress suit, and short of stealing one—"</p> + +<p>"I understand," she declared, and began talking animatedly of other +things, but when she had rung off Boone sat staring at an open law book +and making nothing of its text. Then he heard a movement at his back and +swung around in his swivel chair, but the next instant he was on his +feet with an exclamation that was an outburst of joy.</p> + +<p>There, standing just inside the door, tanned like saddle leather, +somewhat grayer about the temples and sparer of figure than of old, but +with the strong vigour of active months, stood Victor McCalloway.</p> + +<p>"I think, my boy," he said, as though he had never been away at all, "we +can run to a dress suit."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + + +<p>A moment later the two men stood with their hands clasped, and the face +of the younger was aglow with such delight as can come only from a happy +windfall out of the unexpected.</p> + +<p>Never had that other face and figure been far from his thoughts. Never +had his ardent hero-worship waned or tarnished. His speculations and +dreams had been haunted by misgivings bred of the fierce chances of war, +chances which might make of the features, into which he now looked +again, only a memory.</p> + +<p>New and varied activities in his life had bulwarked him against actual +brooding, and youth is too brightly hopeful to accept grim +possibilities, unproven; but the mists of denied fear had hung +undissolved, and there had been moments when they had thickened and +congealed on the crystal of his thoughts to dark foreboding.</p> + +<p>He had not known with what name or rank his beloved preceptor had been +serving over there beyond the Pacific. Many officers had fallen, and +McCalloway was not one to turn half aside from any danger. If he had +been among the lost, Boone might never have known. Even his torture of +mind over Asa had been free of this intolerable character of suspense. +Now it was lifted, and without a forerunner of hint the man stood there +before him in the flesh, smiling and talking of a dress suit!</p> + +<p>"I can't believe it, sir," Boone stammered, and McCalloway's ruddy face +became quizzical.</p> + +<p>"Had you made up your mind to lose me, then?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>Much they had in common at that moment of reunion, and one thing in +antithesis. Boone thought of his lost race and was smitten with a pang +of failure to report, but McCalloway was reading the clarity of bold and +honest eyes: of a face to which it was given to wear the karat-mark of +dauntlessness and integrity, and at the end of his gaze he gave an +unuttered summary of what he had read: "Clean as a hound's tooth—and as +strong."</p> + +<p>"They beat me to a pulp down there, sir," Boone made prompt and rueful +confession, "but there's time to tell about that later. I guess for a +while I'm going to keep you busy declining to answer questions about +yourself."</p> + +<p>"There may be some uncensored passages," smiled the Scot. "I sha'n't +have to walk in total darkness."</p> + +<p>"The important question is already answered, sir. You are safely back. +You were with Kuroki, weren't you?" There Boone halted and grinned as he +added: "'Don't answer that thar question onlessen ye've a mind ter.'"</p> + +<p>"I was with him for a time. Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Because," came the instant and confident response, "where he went there +were the signs of genius."</p> + +<p>"Genius went with Kuroki quite independently of his subordinates," +McCalloway assured him gravely, "but a few moments back I heard you tell +some one over the telephone that you couldn't come to her party because +you had no evening clothes. The Russian war is over, but the matter of +that dress suit retains the force of present crisis."</p> + +<p>A half hour later, while the elder man displayed a sartorial knowledge +which surprised him, Boone was being measured for his first evening +clothes.</p> + +<p>"For the Lord's sake, sir," he besought with sudden realization as they +left the tailor's shop, "don't ever breathe a word about that spade-tail +coat back there in Marlin. I'm going to run for the legislature next +time, you know. The man that licked me before had patches on his pants."</p> + +<p>McCalloway nodded his head. "I'll tell it not in Gath, speak it not in +Ascalon," he promised. "That suit of clothes might prove your political +shroud."</p> + +<p>Boone saw Anne that evening and with a thrilling voice told her of +McCalloway's return—but of the visit to the tailor he said nothing, and +she refrained from reverting to the topic of the party.</p> + +<p>Anne was sensitive on the point of an invitation urgently given and not +eagerly accepted. That is what her consciousness registered, and she +told herself that it was petulant and unworthy to attach so much +importance to a minor disappointment. But without full realization, +other and graver thought elements hung with ponderous weight from the +peg of that lesser circumstance. Boone's inability to buy a dress suit +was a measure of his poverty and of the great undertaking which lay +ahead of him; of the length and steepness of the road he must travel +before he could come to her and say, "I have made a home for you."</p> + +<p>She herself was to be presented to society with expensive display, and +her pride shivered fastidiously at the realization that all this outlay +came from a purse not their own, and entailed an undeclared obligation. +She had never been told just how far she and her mother depended on the +Colonel's bounty. That had been carefully left enveloped in a hazy +indefiniteness that revealed no sharp or embarrassing angle of detail. +Had she known it all, her shiver of distaste would have been a shudder +of chagrin. But Anne was enough in love with Boone to feel that by his +absence from her social launching the sparkle of her little personal +triumph would be dulled.</p> + +<p>But when at last she stood in her receiving line, radiant in her young +loveliness, she glanced up and her violet eyes took on a sudden sparkle, +while her cheeks flushed with surprised pleasure, for there, making his +way through the door, came Boone.</p> + +<p>He came with his stage fright as invisible as the secrets of Bluebeard's +closet, so that even Mrs. Masters, looking up with equal surprise though +not an equal delight, admitted that in appearance, at least, he was no +liability to her company of guests.</p> + +<p>The clothes that Victor McCalloway had supervised were tailored as they +should have been, with every requisite of conservative elegance, and +they set off a figure of a man well sculptured of line and proportion.</p> + +<p>As he took Anne's hand he said in a lowered voice and with a twinkle in +his eyes, "I came in through the front door—but there wasn't any arch. +My legs are shaking."</p> + +<p>Anne glanced down. "They are doing it very quietly," she reassured. "No +fuss at all."</p> + +<p>Because of a straight-eyed sincerity and a candid vigour which endowed +him with a forcefulness beyond his years, and because a certain +deliberate humour played in his eyes and flashed occasionally into his +ungarrulous speech, he found himself smiled upon with the tolerant +approval of the older ladies and the point-blank delight of the younger.</p> + +<p>Back at his desk the next morning he was again the grave-eyed and +industrious young utility man, but in his breast pocket was a crumpled +rosebud which to him still had fragrant life. In his mind were certain +rich memories and in his veins raced hot currents of love—pitched to a +new exhilaration.</p> + +<p>Victor McCalloway had become again the lone man of the mountains, and +Boone burned with anxiety to go to him there, but the soldier had +prohibited that just now. The boy had put his hand to the plough of a +virulent city campaign, and until the furrow was turned he must stay +there with the men who were making the fight.</p> + +<p>"For you, my boy," he had declared, with a live interest that ran to +emphasis, "this is an opportunity not to be missed. It is a phase of +transition, not only in your own development but in that of your State +and your country. Through all of it sounds the insistent message of the +future: whoever takes into his hands public affairs must give to the +public a conscientious accounting. This is a declaration of war on the +old, slothfully accepted dogma that to the victor belongs the spoils. +It is Humanity's plea for a place in government."</p> + +<p>When McCalloway had gone, Boone carried into the steps and developments +of that autumn's activities a freshly galvanized sense of romance and of +high adventure. Through the labour of each day thrilled the thought of +Anne, and the quiet triumph of being no longer "poor white trash."</p> + +<p>In the forces of the political enemy clinging doggedly to the spoils of +long possession and sticking at no desperate effort, the boy discovered +much that was not mean—rather was it picturesque with a sort of Robin +Hood flavour and the drama of a passing order. Here were the +twentieth-century counterparts of the gentlemen-gamblers of the old +Mississippi steamboat days, a gentry bold and mendacious, unable to +perceive that what had been must not for that reason continue to be.</p> + +<p>Often Boone went to hear Morgan delivering his philippics to street +corner audiences, and often too he dropped around inconspicuously to +listen as that administration orator popularly called "The Bull" +exhorted "the pure in heart." He liked the extremes between the edged +satire and nervous force of the young lawyer whose dress and appearance +was always point-device, and whose message was always "<i>Carthago delenda +est</i>," and the great sonorous voice of the rougher man who knew the +hearts of the mob and how to reach them.</p> + +<p>At the end of a white-hot campaign came an election day that eclipsed in +violence the period of registration, and out of its confusion emerged, +as bruised victors, the forces of the city hall.</p> + +<p>But the town was aflame, and the call ran to clamour for a contest in +court. Lawyers volunteered their services without charge, citizens +attended mass meetings to pledge financial support, and the lines drew +for fresh battles. In the interval between events Boone doffed his city +clothing and donned again the corduroys and flannel shirt of the hills +that were now viscid with winter mud and patched with snow between the +gray starkness of the timber. He had gone back to the house of Victor +McCalloway. There, while the hearth roared, they sat long of evenings, +the young man delighting in the narratives of his elder and glowing with +the confidence reposed in him—and the older with a quiet light of +satisfaction in his eyes, born of seeing the rugged cub that he had +taken to his heart developing into a man of whom he was not ashamed.</p> + +<p>"How far, my boy," inquired McCalloway on one of these occasions, when +the pipe-smoke wreathed up like altar fires of comradeship, "do you feel +you've progressed along the trend of development that your young country +has followed?"</p> + +<p>Boone shook a self-deprecating head. "I should say, sir, that I've about +caught up with the Mexican War."</p> + +<p>After a long study of the pictures which fantastically shaped and +refashioned themselves in the glowing embers, the veteran went +reflectively on again:</p> + +<p>"Since coming back this time, I've felt it more than ever like a +prophet's dream. Great transitions lie ahead of us—in your own time. +You will live to see the day when men in this country will no longer +talk of this as a land separated by oceans from the eastern hemisphere; +as a land that can continue to live its own untrammelled life. A man, +like myself for instance, may be a hermit, but a great nation +cannot—and I still feel that when that message of merging and common +cause comes, it will come not on the wings of the peace dove but belched +from the mouths of guns—riding the gales of war."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + + +<p>Boone Wellver walked into the office of the police chief one spring +morning when the trees along the streets were youthfully green. +Somewhere outside a band, parading with transparencies, was summoning +all horse-lovers and devotees of chance to the track and paddocks of +Churchill Downs.</p> + +<p>Inside the office of the chief sat Morgan Wallifarro, point-device as +ever, and over his desk the chief bent, listening with an attitude of +deference to what he said. It was a new department head who occupied +that swivel chair. New officials occupied every office under that +clock-towered roof, and behind each placarded door the suggestions of +Morgan Wallifarro held some degree of authoritative force and sanction.</p> + +<p>For almost two years the courts had laboured to the grind of the contest +cases. Again, shoulder to shoulder with the Nestors of the bar and their +younger assistants, Boone had played his minor but far from trivial +part. Almost a year before he had listened in the joint sessions room as +the decisive utterances of the two chancellors fell upon a taut and +expectant stillness. Those arbiters had read long and learned +disquisitions as befitted the final chapter to months of hearings. That +day had been a Waterloo for attempted Reform. With dignity of manner and +legalistic verbiage Boone had heard it adjudged that behind the physical +results of the elections the interference of the courts might not +penetrate, and he had turned away disheartened but not surprised.</p> + +<p>Then had come a new beginning; the final issue in the Court of Appeals, +and finally out of that ultimate mill had been ground a reversal and a +decision that upon a government seated by such devious and fraudulent +methods the cloak of responsibility rested "like the mantle of a giant +upon the withered shoulders of a pigmy."</p> + +<p>Now as Boone shook hands with the new chief, a patrolman entered the +place and stood silently on the threshold. In his eyes was the sullen +but unaggressive resentment of the whipped bully. This was the officer +who had brandished a club over Morgan Wallifarro's head and who had +dragged Boone out of the registration booth under arrest. Gone now was +his domineering truculence, gone all but the smouldering of his old, +self-confident ferocity. Morgan glanced up without comment, and the +chief recognized the new arrival with a curt nod.</p> + +<p>"Keefe," he said shortly, "you were under grave charges and failed to +appear before the Board of Safety at the designated time."</p> + +<p>The uniformed man glowered around the room. One vestige of satisfaction +remained to him; that of a truculent exit and of it he meant to avail +himself.</p> + +<p>"What the hell was the use, Chief. I knew they'd railroad me. I quit +right now."</p> + +<p>"It's too late. You can't quit!" The words were sharp and incisive, and +under the chief's forefinger an electric buzzer rasped. As an orderly +appeared, his direction was snapped out: "Call in the lieutenants and +captains from the officers' room."</p> + +<p>Keefe took a step forward as if in protest, then realizing his +helplessness, he halted and stood on braced legs, breathing heavily.</p> + +<p>He foresaw what was coming, yet there was no escape, for the hour had +struck. He listened stolidly to the ticking clock until several officers +in shoulder straps trooped in and lined up, also waiting, then his +superior's voice again sounded:</p> + +<p>"Keefe, your club!"</p> + +<p>The officer laid it on the desk.</p> + +<p>"Your revolver." The weapon followed the night-stick. Then the chief +rose from his seat.</p> + +<p>"You have failed to meet the charges preferred against you. You have +used the city's uniform as a protection for law-breaking and violence. +Now in the presence of these officers I publicly break you." He ripped +the shield from the patrolman's breast and the disgraced man stood a +moment unsteadily—almost rocking on his feet as his lips stirred +without articulate sound. Then he turned away. His lowering eyes fell +upon Morgan Wallifarro, who sat without a word or a change of expression +in his chair against the wainscoted wall. For an instant the patrolman +seemed on the point of bursting into a valedictory of abuse—even of +attack—but he thought better of it, and as he went out there was a +shamble in the step that had swaggered.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro's country place had been opened for the summer, and a +series of house parties were to follow in Anne's honour, but as yet the +season was young and, except for Boone, Victor McCalloway was the +family's only guest.</p> + +<p>One evening near to sunset the soldier was sitting alone with Anne under +the spread of tall pines that swayed and whispered in the light breeze. +Before them, graciously undulating to the white turnpike a quarter of a +mile distant, went the woodland pasture where the bluegrass lay dappled +with the shadows of oak and walnut. It was a land of richness and +tranquil charm: the first reward of the pioneers in their great +nation-building adventure beyond the unknown ranges. McCalloway's eyes +were full of appreciation. They dwelt lingeringly on blooded mares +nibbling at rich pasturage, with royally sired foals nuzzling at their +sleek flanks. Filling in the distance of a picture that seemed to sing +under a singing sky, were acres of wheat waving greenly and of the young +hemp's plumed billowing: of woodland stretches free of rock or +underbrush. In the branches of the pines a red cardinal flitted, and +from a maple flashed the orange and black gorgeousness of a Baltimore +oriole. Then the man's eyes came back to the girl.</p> + +<p>The figure in its simple summer dress was gracefully lissome. The +features, chiseled to a pattern of high-bred delicacy, were yet instinct +with strength. As Boone was the exponent of the hills of hardship, which +had been the barriers the pioneers had to conquer, so, he thought, was +she the flower of that nurture that had bloomed in the places of their +victory.</p> + +<p>Just now the violet eyes were brimming with grave thoughtfulness, like +the shadow of a cloud upon living colour. When McCalloway looked at +those eyes he recalled the water in the Blue Grotto, whose scrap of +vividness transcends all the other high-keyed colour of Naples +Bay—Naples Bay, which is itself a saturnalia of colour!</p> + +<p>Without doubt his protégé had set his heart on a patrician—but at the +moment there was more wistfulness than joyousness in her face, causing +the subtle curvature of her lips to droop where so often a smile flashed +its brightness.</p> + +<p>"Anne," he slowly asked, "would it be impertinence for an old fellow to +question that look of dream—almost of anxiety—that seems an alien +expression on your face?"</p> + +<p>The preoccupation vanished, and she turned her smile upon him.</p> + +<p>"Was I looking as dismal as all that?" she demanded. "I guess it was the +unaccustomed strain of thinking."</p> + +<p>"You remind me," he went on thoughtfully, "of a woman I once +thought—and I have never changed my mind—the most charming in Europe. +Of course that means no more nor less than that I loved her."</p> + +<p>Anne flushed at the compliment and, quickly searching the gray eyes for +a quizzical twinkle, found them entirely grave.</p> + +<p>"How do I remind you of her, Mr. McCalloway?" The question was put +gently.</p> + +<p>"I've been asking myself that question, and an exact answer eludes me." +He paused a moment, then went soberly on: "Your hair is a disputed +frontier, where brown and gold contend for dominion, and hers is +midnight black. Your eyes are violet and hers are dark, flecked, in +certain lights, with amber. Your colour is that of an old-fashioned rose +garden—and hers that of a poppy field."</p> + +<p>"It must be only by contrast, then, that I make you think of her," mused +the girl. "We are absolute opposites."</p> + +<p>"In detail, yes; in essentials, no," protested the man who was old +enough to compliment boldly and directly. "You share the quality of +goodness, but in itself that's as requisite to character and as +externally uninteresting as bones in a body. You share a rarer gift, +too. It's not so essential, but it crowns and enthrones its possessor +and is life's rarest gift: pure charm. Relative charm we find now and +again, but sheer, unalloyed charm is a flower that blooms only under the +blue moon of magic."</p> + +<p>The pinkness of Anne's cheeks grew deeper.</p> + +<p>"Where is she now, sir?"</p> + +<p>"For many years she has been where magic is the common law: in +Paradise."</p> + +<p>"Oh, forgive me. You spoke of her—"</p> + +<p>"In the present tense," interrupted the soldier. "Yes, I always do. It +is so that I think of her." He broke off, then went on in a changed +voice, "But the gravity in eyes that laugh by divine right calls for +explanation."</p> + +<p>For an instant a tiny line of trouble showed between her brows, and the +seriousness returned.</p> + +<p>"I think perhaps, Mr. McCalloway, you are the one person I can tell." +She paused as though trying to marshal the sequences of a difficult +subject, then spoke impulsively:</p> + +<p>"Boone doesn't realize it," she said slowly. "I don't want him to know, +because there's nothing he can do about it—yet. Since I made my +début—and that was almost three years ago—I've been under a pressure +that's never relaxed. It hasn't been the sort of coercion one can +openly fight, but the harder, more insidious thing. It's in mother's +eyes—in everything—the unspoken accusation that I'm an ingrate: that +I'm selfishly thinking only of myself and not at all of my family."</p> + +<p>"You mean in not marrying Morgan?"</p> + +<p>The girl nodded. "And in refusing to give Boone up. When he was in +Louisville all the time, it was easier. I had his courage to lean +on—but since he went back to plan his race for the legislature, I've +felt very much alone and outnumbered. They are all so gently immovable. +It's terrible to feel that your family are your enemies."</p> + +<p>"And your heart refuses the thought of surrender?"</p> + +<p>Anne looked at him quickly, and for her eyes he could no longer employ +the Blue Grotto as a simile. The waters there are shallow, and in that +moment of soul-unmasking he looked through her irises into deeps of +feeling, sincere and unalterable, and far down under fathoms of slighter +things into the basic pools of passion.</p> + +<p>"You can hardly call it refusal," she said in a low voice, shaded with a +ghost-touch of indignation. "I have never considered it."</p> + +<p>"So I had hoped," he responded gravely, "but I owe you the frankness of +admitting that I wasn't sure. On such subjects the boy has naturally +been reticent. I could be sure only of how <i>he</i> felt. I wanted to see +him get on, and I knew what your influence would mean to him. It has +been what sunlight is to a place where the shadows lie too thick. In the +mountains, my dear, cows that browse where the sun doesn't penetrate get +'dew poisoning.' Human beings get it from the milk. To both it is often +fatal. There's dew poisoning in Boone's blood, too, from generations of +brooding shadows. He needed you."</p> + +<p>He paused, and she bent forward. "Yes," she prompted softly.</p> + +<p>"So I was glad for every moment he had with you—glad enough, even, to +endure the thought of what it might ultimately cost him in the usury of +heartache."</p> + +<p>"And you were willing to let him undergo the heartache?" Her voice +perceptibly hardened. "I'm afraid that's a loyalty I can't understand."</p> + +<p>"It's the loyalty of a soldier's faith in him," he responded briefly. "I +believed that if he must go through the fire he would come out of it not +slag, but good metal."</p> + +<p>"If his heart has to ache,"—the girl's eyes were tender again—"it +won't be because I fail him."</p> + +<p>"And, for the present, it is you who are paying the assessments of +heartache?"</p> + +<p>"I guess it's not quite that bad,"—but her smile was forced. "I'm +merely being gloomed on by melancholy in the family circle as a +life-hope going to wreck. By a nod of my head—an acquiescent one to +Morgan—I could set the broken family fortunes up again beyond danger +and make everybody happy—except myself and Boone. They can't see +anything but sheer perversity in my refusal. They see me, as they think, +drifting on a sea of poverty and spinsterhood when the port lies open; +they see me as a bridesmaid to my friends getting married—even as a +godmother to their children—and they shake gloomy heads because the +water is all running by the mill!"</p> + +<p>"And you are—how old?"—McCalloway's eyes were twinkling with the +question, "—in your hopeless celibacy?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-one," came the exact answer. "But it's not just that. Boone +still has his way to make. This fall the legislature—two years hence a +race for Congress. It's all a very long road."</p> + +<p>The soldier nodded his head in understanding. "Yes, it's the waiting +game that strains the staunchest morale," he admitted. "And you realize +that it won't grow easier. But what of Morgan himself?"</p> + +<p>"I guess if there were no Boone," she made candid admission, "Morgan +would have won. He has force and power—and I am a worshipper of those +things in a man. I thought at first he was a prig, but he's developed. +It may be generosity or it may be calculation, but he will neither +consent to give me up—nor try to hurry me. He plays the game hard, but +he plays it fair."</p> + +<p>McCalloway rekindled the pipe that had died, and his next words followed +a meditative cloud of smoke from his lips. "It's not hard to understand +any man's loving you. I happen to know that more than a few have. Yet if +any one might escape, I'd pick Morgan. For him social values and +externals are ruling passions. For you they are incidental only."</p> + +<p>Anne nodded, but her answer went arrow-straight to the core of the +truth. "Morgan fancies me because he thinks I'm popular and well-born. +It would make no difference to Boone if I were friendless."</p> + +<p>Her confidant laughed. "Here comes Boone himself," he said, rising. "Of +late he's been building his political fences and hasn't seen enough of +you. I am going to leave you, but at any time that the counsel of an old +fellow can help you, call on me, my dear. I'm always at your +command—yours and his."</p> + +<p>As he turned his steps toward the house, McCalloway saw the Colonel +rouse himself from his afternoon nap in his verandah chair. That +morning's <i>Courier-Journal</i> slipped down from the forehead it had been +screening against the sun, and the Colonel became aware of a presence at +his side. Moses, his butler, stood there with juleps on a tray.</p> + +<p>As McCalloway arrived on the verandah and took his glass from the negro, +his host rose with a yawning and apologetic smile. "If you'll pardon me, +sir," he said, "I'll leave you long enough to dip my sleepy face into a +basin of cold water." But when the master had gone the servant lingered +until, with an inquisitive impulse, McCalloway put a question.</p> + +<p>"Moses, what is your other name? I've never heard it, have I?"</p> + +<p>The darkey smiled. "I reckon not, sir. 'Most everybody calls me Colonel +Wallifarro's Mose."</p> + +<p>The guest reflectively sipped his julep. Moses had always interested him +by virtue of his decorous address, which escaped the usual negro +pomposity as entirely as his speech escaped the negro dialect. Moses was +endowed, not with manners but with a manner—to himself, McCalloway had +almost said "the grand manner." It was as if his life, close to fine and +sincere things, had made him, despite his blackness of skin, also a +gentleman.</p> + +<p>"But you have a surname, I dare say."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Wallver."</p> + +<p>"The same as the Colonel's?"</p> + +<p>The butler smiled with an infectious good humour and bowed his head.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. In slave times we servants took our names from our masters. I +reckon my parents did like the rest. But the coloured people spell it +the shortest way."</p> + +<p>"I see. And you have always been in his service?"</p> + +<p>"Whenever he kept house, sir. When Mrs. Wallifarro died and Mr. Morgan +was at boarding school, the Colonel lived at the Club. I was assistant +steward there during that time, sir."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that accounts for a number of things," hazarded the guest with a +smile. "For your <i>ex cathedra</i> knowledge of serving wines, for example."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I hardly think so." There was a respectful trace of negation +and hauteur in the disclaimer. "I learned in the Colonel's house. That +was why they wanted me at the Club."</p> + +<p>"Of course; I beg your pardon."</p> + +<p>When the coloured man had withdrawn, the smile lingered on the weathered +face of the soldier, drawing pleasing little wrinkles about his eyes. +Here indeed was that traditional and charming flavour of ingredients +which the South has given to the diverse table of the nation.</p> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro was a gentleman in whom the definition of aristocracy +found justification; the negro, a survivor of that form of slavery in +which the master held his chattel, was a human soul in trust—they were +Wallifarros white and black!</p> + +<p>Then McCalloway's eyes fell on Boone as he greeted Anne, and a new +thought flashed into his mind.</p> + +<p>"Wallifarro—Wallver—Wellver," he exclaimed to himself under his +breath. "Boone said his old grandfather spoke of his people being lords +and ladies once!"</p> + +<p>His mind, tempted into a speculative train of ideas, began weaving a +pattern of genealogical surmise—a pattern involving not only the +blood-lines of a single family, but also the warp and woof of national +beginnings. In his imagination he completed the trinity. The Colonel and +his servant were exponents of the Old South and its gracious oligarchy. +Boone sprang from the hills that bred a race which some one had called +"The Roundheads of the South." Yet at the start Boone's blood and that +of the Colonel's had perhaps been one blood: the sap of a single and +identical tap-root. Two brothers, setting out together in that hegira of +empire seekers that turned their faces west, had perhaps been separated +by the chances of the wilderness trail. One had won through, and his +sons and daughters had dwelt in ease. One had fallen by the hard road, +and the mould of decay had taken him root and branch. The name of the +stranded one had lapsed into its phonetic equivalent—as had the +negro's—and yet—</p> + +<p>"No matter. He does not seem to have guessed it," murmured McCalloway. +"Perhaps after all it's as well so. He'll make the name as he wears it +one that men will come to know."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + + +<p>Summer, before it has freckled into hot fulness and forgotten the fresh +scent and colour of blossoms! June heralding blitheness from the golden +throats of troubadour field larks, rustling and crooning her message in +green branches under a sky whose blue is proclamation of her love motif!</p> + +<p>Certainly to Boone Wellver and Anne Masters picking strawberries +together in a little arbour-walled, orchard-bounded world of garden, the +centre of life lay within themselves, and the letters of life spelled +"You and I."</p> + +<p>On the girl's uncovered hair the stir of a light breeze and the sparkle +of a clear sun awoke that dispute of dominion of which McCalloway had +spoken; contention along the borderland between brown and gold. On her +cheek the crystal brightness threw its searching question and revealed +no flaw.</p> + +<p>Boone, looking up from the place where he knelt among the vines, found +in his own heart the echo to all the day's minstrelsy. He rose to his +feet with his bronzed face paled under a sudden wave of emotion, which +broke out of his surcharged feeling as a whitecap breaks on the crest of +a high running swell. His eyes, devouringly fixed on the girl, blazed +into a wordless adoration, and he felt, at once, giant-strong and +water-weak in the surge of the great paradox. It would just then have +been as easy for him to construe the fourth dimension as to put his +lover's thoughts into a lover's words, but her woman's eyes read what he +could not say and became bafflingly deep as she turned them away across +the gold and blue and green of the morning.</p> + +<p>Boone's arms twitched at his sides under the fret of his inarticulate +fulness of spirit. The only language left in him was that primitive +language of action. His, under the superimposed structure of acquired +things, was a heritage which could know no love that was not a +soul-stirring passion; no hate that was not a withering fire.</p> + +<p>Now it seemed to him that under the hurricane power of his love for Anne +Masters the pillars of the world shook. He caught her in his arms and +pressed her to him until her hair brushed his cheek and her heart-beat +could be felt against his breast.</p> + +<p>His voice, at last regained, was broken like that of a man sobbing.</p> + +<p>"I can't say it—there aren't any words—for it!"</p> + +<p>All his previous love-making had made Anne remember that first agitated +confession, "I think of you like the evening star—you're as far out of +reach as if you were up there in heaven." Always there had been +something almost humble in his deference, as if he had admitted himself +a vassal lifting eyes to royalty. Now he was seizing her with the fierce +proprietary embrace of one who claims his own and who will not be +denied. The arms that held her pressed her till they hurt in the embrace +of the untamed man for his own woman, and, since for her too, love was +the great paradox, the fierce and ardent flood that had swept him lifted +her on its tide and rang through her with a sort of wild triumph.</p> + +<p>"You—you don't have to say anything—now," she told him somewhat +faintly. If it had been up yonder, with the jutting escarpments of the +hills about them, this wild moment would have shaped itself in more +orthodox fashion with the eternal fitnesses. But the moment left them +with something of tumultuous exaltation, as though they had burst +together through the shell of a superficial world and touched the +essentials.</p> + +<p>After a little, when again they could realize the more tranquil voices +of the birds and the little winds, Anne, with a hand on each of his +shoulders, spoke slowly and very thoughtfully:</p> + +<p>"I don't need to be told, Boone. If I didn't know, life wouldn't be +worth much to me."</p> + +<p>"When I'm away from you," he answered still in a shaken voice, "I always +hear your voice. I always see you, yet when I come back to you, you're +always a surprise to me—I find that my memory hasn't been able to do +you justice."</p> + +<p>She was silent for a little, and then into the serene contentment of her +eyes crept a tiny shadow of trouble.</p> + +<p>"Boone, dear," she said soberly, "we have a long time to wait—and we +can't afford to—let ourselves—be tempest-tossed this way—until we can +see the end. We can't be patient and—like this—at the same time."</p> + +<p>"How can I be patient?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"You know," she reminded him. "I'm not wearing an engagement ring yet +and—"</p> + +<p>His face shadowed ruefully, but he forced a confident smile and pitched +his tone to the manner of jest.</p> + +<p>"The ring that's fit for you to wear ought to cost a king's ransom, +Anne," he declared, "and I haven't any monarchs in the 'jail-house' just +yet."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that, dear, and you know it. If I were to wear your ring +now—with years perhaps of waiting—it would only mean endless war at +home. There'll be unavoidable battles enough when the time comes. It +hardly seems worth while to court them in advance."</p> + +<p>"I knew,"—he spoke with a heavy heart—"that they'd take you through +the torture chamber before they let you marry me. Are you sure, dearest, +that I'm worth it to you?"</p> + +<p>The girl's head came up with the tilt of pride which he loved, and with +the violet blaze in its eyes.</p> + +<p>"Have I complained?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Anne,"—the man bent forward and spoke with the fervent earnestness of +invincible resolve—"I have a long way to go. I'm still down on the +ground level and you are still the evening star! Stars and groundlings, +dear heart! They're very far apart, but there's a beacon burning before +me and there's a magic in your love!" His expression had grown as tender +as it had a little while before been elemental, yet it was not less +purposeful. "In time, by God's grace I shall climb up to you, but it's a +steep journey, and it's asking a good deal of you to mark time while I +travel it."</p> + +<p>"It's asking so much," declared the girl, "that I wouldn't do it if it +wasn't the one thing in the world I want to do—if my heart wasn't set +on that and nothing else."</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" he breathed, "and thank <i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>After a little Anne spoke speculatively:</p> + +<p>"I've missed you rather terribly this time. You've seemed to be away so +long."</p> + +<p>"I've been building political fences, but to me it's been exile," he +told her. "This race for the legislature seems a trivial thing to keep +me away from you. If I win it—and God knows I've <i>got</i> to win—it's +still a petty victory. But it's the first stage of the journey, and +after the legislature comes Congress. You see, small as it is, it's +vital."</p> + +<p>Anne studied the gossamer building about which a spider was busying +itself, and Boone knew that in her mind some matter was demanding +discussion. He waited for her to broach it and soon she began.</p> + +<p>"Morgan held politics in contempt until he went too far into the game to +abandon it, but even now he's seeking to make it lead to something +else."</p> + +<p>"What?" inquired Boone, wondering what topic Anne was approaching by +this path of indirection.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you without abusing a confidence," she laughed, "because +he's never told me. I've only guessed it, but I'm sure I'm right. His +goal is a European embassy with a life near the trappings of a throne. +And since Morgan is Morgan, he'll get it. He never fails."</p> + +<p>"In one thing," announced Boone shortly, "he's going to fail."</p> + +<p>Anne nodded, "In one thing he is," she agreed. "But if he goes into the +diplomatic service, Boone, there'll be a place left vacant in the firm. +Have you thought of that? Wouldn't your own future lie smoother that +way? You could take your place here at the bar instead of struggling to +herd wild sheep, and in the end you'd be Uncle Tom's logical successor."</p> + +<p>Boone's face became sober, almost, Anne thought, distressed. The easy +swing of his shoulders stiffened, and Anne intuitively knew that instead +of suggesting a new thought she had broached a subject of painful +deliberation, already mulled over with a heavy heart.</p> + +<p>Into the young lover's mind flashed the picture of a rough hill +evangelist exhorting rougher hearers, and of scriptural words: ... +"taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain, and sheweth him all the +kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them."</p> + +<p>Finally he spoke: "I <i>have</i> thought of it, Anne.... The Colonel has even +suggested it.... Of course he hasn't said anything about Morgan's going +away; he only intimated that there might be a place for me in the +practice."</p> + +<p>"You didn't refuse? It's a good law firm, you know—old and honoured."</p> + +<p>Suddenly he spread his hands in a gesture almost of appeal, as though he +hoped she might understand and yet hardly dared to expect it.</p> + +<p>"Anne, those wild sheep you just spoke of are my people. Perhaps with +all their faults they have a few virtues too, and, if they have, loyalty +to their own blood is chief of them. The world knows most about their +murders, their moonshining and their abysmal ignorance, but you know +that their blood is the most undiluted and purest American blood in +America. You know that their children grow up illiterate only because +they have no alternative. You know that those people are wild, lawless, +but, thank God, generous to a fault, and as honest as the sun is +bright. You know that even in their law-breaking they don't follow a +base criminality so much as a perverted code of ethics. I was one of +them. I inherited their blood-hatreds and their squalor, and because of +generous friends I was rescued. If I am worth the effort spent on me at +all, I owe it to those men, who saved me from what I might have been, to +do my utmost for my 'wild sheep.'"</p> + +<p>The girl was counting the iridescent threads of the spider's web, but +her eyes caught the fixity with which his hand had unconsciously +clenched itself. All that he said was undoubtedly true and creditable. +She would not, in theory, have had him feel or speak otherwise, yet, +since it is as impossible to eliminate one's ego from thought as to see +through one's reflection in a mirror, she felt suddenly sick at heart.</p> + +<p>If the effect of his liberation from the squalid things of his origin +meant, after all, only to bind him the more strongly to them; if a +quixotic sense of obligation barred him from the broader world he had +won to, wherein lay the virtue of salvation? She loved the majestic +wildness of the hills and the sweep of their free winds, but of the +people in general she had thought as one gently bred and nurtured might +naturally think of the less fortunate and more vulgar of the world.</p> + +<p>Then she heard his words going on again but seeming to sound from a +distance:</p> + +<p>"Except for what generous friends did for me, I might—I would in all +probability have grown as rank and wild as many other boys up there. The +feud would perhaps have claimed me. For human life and human rights, I +might have had the same contempt, and instead of standing here free and +fortunate I might even now be wearing stripes in the penitentiary. If +I've escaped, I think my people are entitled to what little I can offer +them."</p> + +<p>Anne felt a weight of foreboding on her heart, but she laid her hands on +his shoulders. "Of course, dear," she said softly, "it's not just +getting to the place, after all, is it? One must travel the right road, +too."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>On the deck-rail of a coast-wise fruit steamer beating down from +equatorial waters leaned two men, whose ages were seemingly about forty. +Off the starboard bow lay the island of San Lorenzo, yellow in the sun, +with its battered crown of broken fortress. Ahead lay Callao, yellow, +too, with its adobe walls, and rust-red where its corrugated iron roofs +caught and husbanded the heat which needed no husbanding. Far off, +between terraces of sand and the slopes of San Cristobal, one could make +out the church towers of Lima.</p> + +<p>The two travellers looked idly, somewhat contemptuously, on a shore line +that had fired the imagination of Pizarro and his conquistadores. They +were not of those to whom historic associations lend glamour, neither +were they themselves precisely objects of romantic interest. One was +dark of hair and skin and saturnine of expression. The other was blond, +floridly blond, and unmistakably Teutonic.</p> + +<p>"Know anything about oil, mein friendt?" inquired the fair-haired +traveller, and the other laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oil? My middle name's oil. I've drilled it in Mexico and—" abruptly +the speaker became less expansive as he added, "and elsewhere."</p> + +<p>The German smiled. "Elsewhere?" he observed. "It is a large place—nein? +Has oil been always your business?"</p> + +<p>From Guayaquil they had been travelling companions, but they had shared +no personal confidences. The reply came non-committally.</p> + +<p>"I've followed some several things."</p> + +<p>The Teuton did not press his interrogations, and a silence fell between +the two. While it lasted, the face of Saul Fulton settled into a frown +of discontent.</p> + +<p>At Lima there would perhaps be mail, and upon the answer to a letter +written long ago his future plans depended.</p> + +<p>"Shall we dine together in Lima?" The suggestion came at last from the +German. "So perhaps we shall be less bored."</p> + +<p>Saul Fulton nodded. "Why not? I'll meet you at the American café at six, +but the dinner'll be on me."</p> + +<p>Fulton could afford to entertain if the spirit moved him, and if his +news was good he would have the wish to celebrate. These years of his +wanderings since he had left home with an indictment hanging above his +head had not all been lean, but prosperity in exile had of late become +bitter on his tongue with the ashiness of dead-sea fruit. Saul was +homesick. He wanted to shake from his feet for ever this dry dust of the +rainless west coast. He wanted to see the stars come up out of a paling +lemon afterglow, across peaks ragged with hardwood and fringed with +pine.</p> + +<p>He had tasted the bread and wine of many latitudes, and perhaps in all +of them life had been more kindly than in the mountains of his birth, +yet no child could be more homesick. He wanted to parade before the +pinch of his neighbour's poverty the little prizes of his ignoble +success—and, more than that, he wanted something else.</p> + +<p>But when the sun was dropping back of San Cristobal's cone he stood on a +cobble-stoned street on the outskirts of Lima, cursing under his breath +with a torn envelope in his hand. His letter had not brought him good +news.</p> + +<p>The communication, in the first place, had not come from the man to whom +he had written, though he grudgingly admitted that perhaps this +vicarious reply was essential to caution.</p> + +<p>"To come back here now would be the most heedless thing in the world, he +says." That had been the hateful gist culled from the detail. The "he +says" must refer to the unnamed attorney, to whom Saul had made the +confession which gave value to his evidence against Asa Gregory.</p> + +<p>If Asa were free, of course he knew that to return to Marlin County +would be to ask insistently for death—and not to ask in vain. But Asa +lay securely immured behind jail walls which would not be apt to open +for him unless to let him pass into the still safer walls of the +penitentiary or out into the cemented yard where the gallows stood.</p> + +<p>The forces of the prosecution owed him something. They owed him so much +that he had walked in no terror of extradition, or even, after a prudent +absence, molestation at home. Technically of course he still stood +charged as an accomplice to murder who had forfeited his bond, but there +may be divergences between a technical and an actual status. The +attorney who preferred now not to be quoted had doubtless discussed the +matter with the Commonwealth, and that the Commonwealth had no wish to +hound him was indicated by this passing on of the advice "ride wide."</p> + +<p>Who then stood between him and a safe return to the State he had served +with vital testimony? This letter told him in the none too elegant +phrasing of a friend from the hills.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Asa himself won't bother you unless the Governor pardons him +out—and the Governor ain't likely to do that. He's the man +that went in when Goebel died. I say he ain't likely to pardon +Asa—but still there has been some changes here. The Democrat +party has had some quarrels inside itself. The Louisville crowd +has been kicked out by this same governor, and the lawyers that +helped get it done were the Wallifarro crowd. You may not +remember much about Boone Wellver, because he was a kid when +you left, but he thinks Asa's a piece of the moon, and he's a +lawyer now hisself in Wallifarro's offices. Those men stand +close to the Governor, and this Boone Wellver has wore out the +carpet at Frankfort, tramping in to argue for Asa's pardon. But +that ain't all. He's talked hisself blue in the face trying to +have you brought back and hung. Back in Marlin he's aimin' to +go to the legislature and he's buildin' up influence. If he +wins out he's goin' to be a power there, and, if he gets to be, +you can't never come home."</p></blockquote> + +<p>At that point Saul lowered the pages of the letter and cursed again +under his breath. Then he read on again though by now he knew the +contents by heart.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"It was heedless for you to write to Jim Beverly. Wellver heard +of that through some tattle-talk and went to the Commonwealth +attorney and told where you was at. He'll hound you as long as +he lives, and if you come back here you'll walk into his +trap—unless you can contrive to get him out of the way. He +stands across your path, and you've got either to lay low or +get rid of him. If you came back here, one of you would have to +die as sure as God sits on high."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Saul thrust the letter back into his pocket. A string of pack llamas +swung grunting by under their loads, driven by ponchoed cholos. Overhead +a vulture lumbered by. From the stand of a street vendor drifted the +odours of skewered fowl-livers and black olives. Over the whole +Spanish-American panorama brooded the treeless foothills of the +Cordilleras that went back to the Andes. Everything that came to eye and +nostril of Saul Fulton carried the hateful aspect and savour of the +alien.</p> + +<p>"I disgust the whole damn land," he declared as he rose, for though he +no longer felt in a mood of celebration it was time to meet the +"Dutchman" for dinner.</p> + +<p>Reticence was second nature to the plotter who had just heard of the +growing power of a new enemy, but there was wine for dinner and a +sympathetic listener, and under the ache of nostalgia and the need of +outpouring, his discretion for once weakened.</p> + +<p>It was late when over their coffee cups and cigarettes Saul realized +that he had been talking too freely, but the German leaned forward and +nodded a sympathetic head.</p> + +<p>"I am discreet," he reassured. "I understand."</p> + +<p>After a moment he added, "It may surprise you, mein friendt, to learn +that I, too, have been in your Kentucky mountains. It was when they +first talked of oil there some years back.... I did not remain long.... +Oil there was but not in gushers ... at the price of the markets it did +not pay. It only tantalized with false hope."</p> + +<p>Saul looked up. A crafty gleam shot into his eyes as he started to +speak, then he repressed the words on his lips and remained silent.</p> + +<p>After a long while, however, he began hesitantly:</p> + +<p>"There's oil there still—and there's places where it would pay. That's +why I'm itchin' to go back. With what I know now and those fools there +don't know, I could get rich; big rich, and this damned young Wellver +stands barrin' my way."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps,"—the German spoke tentatively—"we could do business +together. I go to the States shortly mein-self."</p> + +<p>"Business, hell!" Saul Fulton's hand smote the table. "A stranger +couldn't swing things. Folks would jump prices on you. They suspicion +strangers, there."</p> + +<p>He sat silent for a time, and the German puffed contemplatively at his +cigarette. Outside somewhere a band was playing. Above the patio where +they sat at table the stars were large and tranquil. A fountain plashed +in silvery tinkles.</p> + +<p>Saul Fulton's face grew sinister with its thoughts, and when at last he +spoke again it was with the air of a man who has debated to a conclusion +the problem that besets him and who, having decided, sets his foot into +the Rubicon of action.</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' back there, myself. There's ways an' means of gettin' rid of +brash trouble-makers, an' if any man knows 'em in an' out, an' back an' +forth, it's me."</p> + +<p>Otto Gehr shrugged his white-coated shoulders.</p> + +<p>"The fit should survive," he made answer.</p> + +<p>Saul raised his almost empty glass. "Here's Luck," he said. "This +Wellver lad is marked down for what's comin' to him."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + + +<p>Morgan's car was making the most rapid progress through the downtown +traffic that the law allowed, and his electric energies were fretting +for greater speed. The days were all too short for him with their +present demands, and he forced himself with the merciless rigour of a +man who is both overseer and slave. Now he was allowing himself just +forty-five minutes for luncheon at the club, and back at the office men +and matters were waiting.</p> + +<p>He found gratification in the deference with which policemen saluted, +and in the glances that turned toward him as his chauffeur slowed down +at the corners. He knew that his fellow townsmen were saying, "That's +Morgan Wallifarro!" It was enough to say that, for the name bore its own +significance. It meant, "That is the man who has just carried a +Democratic town for a Republican mayor, and who had much to do with +carrying a Democratic State for a Republican governor. Even in national +councils his voice begins to bear weight."</p> + +<p>These things were incense in the nostrils of the hurrying young lawyer, +but suddenly his attention was arrested from them, and he rapped on the +glass front of the closed car. He had seen Anne on the sidewalk, and at +his signal the machine swung in to the curb and halted.</p> + +<p>"I'm on my way home," she told him, "and you're far too rushed to +cavalier me during business hours," but he waved aside her remonstrances +and helped her in.</p> + +<p>"I'm so busy," he declared, "that I can't waste a moment—and every +possible moment lost from you is wasted."</p> + +<p>The November sun was clear and sparkling, and the girl settled back with +an amused smile as she looked into the self-confident, audacious eyes +of the man at her side.</p> + +<p>"It gives me a feeling of exaggerated importance to ride in your +machine, Morgan," she teased. "It's a triumphal progress through the +bowing multitude."</p> + +<p>Her companion grinned. "When are you going to make my car your car and +my homage your homage, Anne?" he brazenly demanded.</p> + +<p>The girl's laugh rippled out, and in her violet eyes the twinkle +sparkled. She liked him best when he was content to clothe his words in +the easy garb of jest, so she countered in paraphrase.</p> + +<p>"When are you going to let my answer be your answer, and my decision +your decision?"</p> + +<p>"It's no trouble to ask," he impudently assured her. "You remember the +man who</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Proposed forty thousand and ninety-six times,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—And each time, but the last, she said, 'No.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>You see the whole virtue of that man lay in his pertinacity."</p> + +<p>After a moment's silence he added, in a voice out of which had gone all +facetiousness even while it lingered in the words themselves, "There are +a thousand reasons, Anne, why I can't give you up. I've forgotten nine +hundred and ninety-nine of them but I remember one. I love you utterly."</p> + +<p>Her eyes met his with direct gravity.</p> + +<p>"But why, Morgan?" she demanded with a candid directness. "I'm the +opposite in type of every one else you cultivate or care for. I'm really +not your sort of person at all, you know."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he said, "it's because you are the most thoroughbred woman I +know, and I want to be proud of my wife. Perhaps it's merely that you're +you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said simply. "It's a pity, Morgan dear, that I can love +you in every way except the one way. I wish you'd pick out a girl really +suited to you."</p> + +<p>"By the 'every way except the one way,'" he interposed, "you mean +platonically?"</p> + +<p>Anne nodded, and the man said, "Of course I know the reason. It's +Boone."</p> + +<p>"Yes." The admission was disarmingly frank. "It's Boone. I've just had a +letter from him. He won his race for the legislature and now he's laying +down his lines of campaign for the bigger prize of the congressional +race next time."</p> + +<p>Morgan's smile was innocent of grudge-bearing. "I know. I wired +congratulations this morning. Of course his race was really won when he +came out of the primaries victorious."</p> + +<p>Anne reflected that in the old days Morgan would have spoken +differently, and in a less generous spirit. To him a contest for a +legislative seat from a rough hill district must appear almost trivial, +and for the victor his personal rancour might have left no room for +congratulation. He himself had, in a larger battle, just won more +conspicuous prizes of reputation and power, and yet the heartiness of +his tone as he spoke of Boone's little success was sincere and in no +sense marred by any taint of the perfunctory.</p> + +<p>"It was rather handsome of Boone to go back there and throw his hat into +the ring," he continued gravely. "He might have harvested quicker and +showier results here, but he wanted to be identified with his own +people. God knows they need a Progressive, in that benighted +hinterland."</p> + +<p>Anne's eyes mirrored her gratification, but before she could give it +expression the car stopped.</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed Morgan; "are we here already?" He opened the door and +helped her out, but as he stood on the sidewalk with his hat raised he +added in a note of unalterable resolve:</p> + +<p>"I don't want to persecute and pursue you, Anne, but the day will +come—perhaps the forty thousand and ninety-sixth time of asking—when +you'll say 'Yes.' Meanwhile I can wait—since I must. One thing I +cannot and will not do; give you up."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," she smiled. "And thank you for the lift."</p> + +<p>Morgan turned to the car again and said crisply to the driver: "Straight +to the office. I sha'n't stop for lunch now."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro stepped from the train at Marlin Town and turned up +the collar of his heavy coat, while an edged and searching wind carried +its chill through clothing and flesh and seemed to strike at the marrow +of a man's bones.</p> + +<p>The Colonel felt the dismal and bleak oppressiveness of a picture +blotted from visual record by the reeking blackness of a winter dawn. A +railway schedule apparently devised for purposes of human torture had +deposited him in a sleeping town gloomed down on by sleeping mountains +at the hour when mortal spirits are at their zero of vitality, and the +train that had marooned him there wailed on its way like a strident +banshee.</p> + +<p>In his pocket was the telegram that had brought him. It had come from +Larry Masters and had succeeded only in bewildering and alarming its +recipient with words that explained nothing except that the sender stood +in some desperate need of instant help. The words had startled Tom +Wallifarro like a scream heard in a dark street.</p> + +<p>He had responded in person and at once. Now Larry was not even at the +station to meet him, so the Colonel turned and trudged forebodingly +through the viscid slop of unpaved streets, churned by yesterday's feet +of men and mules and oxen, toward that edge of the town where the mine +superintendent had his bungalow.</p> + +<p>Through the windows of the house when he drew near he caught the pallid +glimmer of lamplight, but to his first rapping on the door there was no +response. A vigorous repetition, which started echoes up and down the +empty dark, brought at length a dull voice of summons, "Come in," and +on turning the knob the visitor looked upon a man who sat at the centre +of his room in apathetic collapse.</p> + +<p>A kerosene lamp, guttering now to the inanition of spent fuel and wick, +revealed a face of pasty pallor and eyes deep sunk in dark sockets. It +was cold in the room, for on the hearth, where the fire had been long +unmended, only a few expiring embers glinted in the gray of the ash bed.</p> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro's first impression was that the man who had called on +him for help had turned meantime to the more immediate solace of +alcohol, and that now he was whiskey sodden, but a second glance +dispelled that conjecture. This torpidity was not born of drunkenness +but despair.</p> + +<p>"I'm here, Larry," said Colonel Wallifarro, as he fumbled with chilled +fingers into a breast pocket and fished out a telegraph envelope. "I +took it the case was urgent."</p> + +<p>Aroused a little out of his stupefaction by the matter-of-fact +steadiness of the voice, Masters came wearily to his feet. Through an +open door which gave upon the sleeping-room, Colonel Wallifarro caught a +glimpse of an untouched bed and knew that the other must have spent the +night sitting here, wakeful yet forgetful of the hearth-fire that had +sputtered to its death.</p> + +<p>"I'm ruined, Tom," announced Larry Masters in an intonation which ran +level and unmodulated, as though even the voice of the man had lost all +flexibility, and having made that startling assertion the speaker sank +again into his chair and his former inertness of posture.</p> + +<p>To press with questions at the moment seemed useless, so the lawyer +threw off his overcoat and knelt down to rekindle and replenish the +fire.</p> + +<p>When at last it was again blazing he found and poured whiskey, and at +the end of ten minutes he prompted again, "I've come in answer to your +summons, Larry. Hadn't you better try to tell me about it?"</p> + +<p>The man nodded, and with an effort pulled himself somewhat together. +"This time it's not only ruin but disgrace—prison, I expect."</p> + +<p>"What have you done?"</p> + +<p>"The fund. All of it. It's gone."</p> + +<p>"The fund—gone? I don't understand." Colonel Wallifarro spoke with a +forehead corrugated in bewilderment. "Begin at the start of the story. +You forget that I haven't the remotest idea of what this is all about."</p> + +<p>"The fund, I tell you," reiterated Masters stupidly. "Gone!"</p> + +<p>"Gather yourself together, man. Drink that whiskey."</p> + +<p>For once the glass had stood unregarded at the Englishman's elbow. Now +he lifted it abstractedly to his lips, but this time he only sipped it +and set it down. Then with an effort he rose and went to the hearth, +where he stood with trembling hands outspread and limbs shivering before +the rekindled blaze.</p> + +<p>"I met Cantwell in Lexington.... We talked the matter over as to the +final details.... The rest had been arranged, you see.... Finally he +gave me the money ... in cash ... $20,000 it was."</p> + +<p>"Twenty thousand—gone? Whose money?"</p> + +<p>"The company's."</p> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro braced himself as he had braced himself against many +other shocks. Patiently his legal capacity for bringing coherence out of +obscurity led his dazed companion through the mazes of his torpor. +Direct questioning found a trail of broken narrative and followed it +with a hound's pertinacity, until the story rounded into some sort of +shape.</p> + +<p>Larry the visionary, with the plunger's mirage always teasing him +through the arid conditions of a low salaried exile, had, it seemed, +caught at the fringes of success—and slipped into disaster. Through +years he had hoarded small savings out of his frugal income with the +gambler's eagerness to have a "stake" against the swift passing of the +golden opportunity. Finally he had thought that it had not all been in +vain. His eye had appraised other fields where the coal ran out in +sparse and attenuated veins but where the "sand blossom" spoke of oil. +His hoardings had gone straightway into options, at prices based on +farming valuations where farms were cheap.</p> + +<p>It had remained then to enlist the interest of capital in taking up +these many options and securing others, and that required a large sort +of sum. Larry had gone to the directors of the company that employed +him. He had haunted their offices and they had endured his obdurate +besieging only because he was an efficient man cheaply employed, and, as +such, entitled to one hare-brained eccentricity.</p> + +<p>Columbus striving to raise money from a world convinced of the earth's +flatness, with which to sail round a sphere, encountered a scepticism no +more stolid, and yet in the end Masters had convinced them. The +persuasion was accomplished only when other adventurers were beginning +to clip coupons from just such enterprises in adjacent fields. When, to +the monied men, "Masters' folly" became "Masters' discovery," the native +landowners were growing as wary as ducks that have been decoyed, and +dealing with them at a tempting profit required subterfuge. Besides the +options already held there were more to be secured before the +proposition was rounded into unity. Masters had therefore lined up, as +his purchasing agents, men of native blood and apparently of no +organized unity. Employing cash instead of checks bearing tell-tale +signatures, they could still acquire at a song, and a poor song, too, +large oil-bearing tracts virgin to the drill.</p> + +<p>So, with his plan patiently built, like a house of cards that had often +tumbled but which at last seemed steady, Masters had turned away from +the Lexington interview with a black bag containing treasure enough to +awaken all the old, long-prostrate dreams. A life tarnished with +futility seemed on the bright verge of redemption. A share in the +Eldorado would be his own, and after years of eating the bread of +discontent his crushed pride could rise and stand erect, fuller +nourished.</p> + +<p>These grandiose prospects of the altered future called for celebration, +very moderate, of course, because now above all other times he needed a +dependable and clear brain. With the tingling of the alcohol in his +arteries his dreams expanded—and he drank more.</p> + +<p>Then he had been robbed.</p> + +<p>"But how in God's name could it happen?" demanded the Colonel. "You were +stopping overnight at the Phoenix. Didn't you put your money in the +safe?"</p> + +<p>Masters raised a pair of nerveless hands in a deprecatory gesture.</p> + +<p>"I was drinking. I had certain memoranda in the same bag and I took it +up to my room to run over some details—then he came and knocked at the +door."</p> + +<p>"Who came?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. He called me by name and seemed to be a man of means and +cultivation. We drank and chatted together. It was in my bedroom in a +city hotel, mind you. I didn't drink much.... The bag was locked ... the +key was on the table by my hand.... Of course in some fashion he had +learned of the money being turned over to me. How?"</p> + +<p>The response was dry.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. What happened?"</p> + +<p>"God knows. I suppose it was some variation of the old device of +knock-out drops or some sort of drug. I awoke sitting in my chair—very +sick at my stomach—and had just time to make my train by rushing off +without breakfast. I had been there all night. I glanced in the bag and +seeing the packet there with the rubber bands around it right as rain, I +failed to suspect. It was when I got here that I found it had been +rifled."</p> + +<p>"And the man?"</p> + +<p>"I talked with the hotel by long distance. No one by the name he gave +me had been registered there. The description meant nothing to them."</p> + +<p>"Why," inquired the Colonel presently, "didn't you tell me of this plan +of yours in advance—this enterprise?"</p> + +<p>Masters shook his head. "You'd only have laughed at me like the rest. I +was getting fed up on being laughed at. It gets on a man's nerves in +time. For just once in my life I wanted to be the one who could say 'I +told you so!'"</p> + +<p>"What steps have you taken—toward catching the thief?"</p> + +<p>The victim groaned. "Don't you see that I couldn't take any? To report +to the police would be an admission to the company. The whole thing was +trusted to my hands after much reluctance. Can't you see that my story +would seem a bit thin?"</p> + +<p>Masters' words ended with a gulp, and in his eyes was the stark terror +of panic reacting after the comatose silence of lethargy.</p> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro's face, too, had become drawn and distrait. For a +time he paced the floor up and down without a word, his hands tight held +at his back and his head bowed low on his breast. As he walked, Masters, +from his chair by the table, followed his movements with eyes that held +no light except that of fear and wretchedness.</p> + +<p>Finally the lawyer halted before the chair. His brow was drawn, but in +face and attitude was the pronouncement of a decision reached. Tom +Wallifarro had been wrestling with complex and intermingled elements of +the problem as he walked. When he halted, the shifting perplexities had +resolved and settled into determination.</p> + +<p>"I've got to see you through this, Larry, and it's going to be a hard +scratch. I suppose you think of me as wealthy. Most people do, but it's +necessary to be frank with you. I have a very handsome practice, and I +have for many years lived well up to that income—at times I've +overstepped the boundary. I have my farm in Woodford and my house in +town. I have a considerable insurance, and that about sums up my +resources. I draw from the running channel of my law fees and it's a +generous flow, but one I've never dammed providently into a reservoir of +surplus. If I have to raise twenty thousand dollars off-hand, I shall +have to borrow. Thank God my credit will stand it."</p> + +<p>"But, Tom"—Masters broke chokingly off.</p> + +<p>"Please don't try to thank me."</p> + +<p>"Not perhaps for myself, but I happen to know that your means have +supported not only your own family but my family as well."</p> + +<p>"Larry,"—Colonel Wallifarro spoke in a harder tone than was customary +with him—"your folly has been almost criminal ... but if it meant +stripping myself to beggary I couldn't see Anne's father accused of a +breach of trust. Even if I cared nothing for you, my boy, it would come +to the same thing. I fancy I shall sell the farm."</p> + +<p>"My God!" groaned Masters. "It's the apple of your eye, Tom."</p> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro fumbled for a cigar and lighted it, saying nothing +for a time. When he spoke it was with an irrelevant change of topic.</p> + +<p>"Not quite, Larry. The apple of my eye is a dream. If, before I die, I +can trot a grandchild on my knee—a child with Morgan's will and Anne's +fine-fibred sweetness—" he paused a moment and then gave a short +laugh—"then I could contentedly strike my tent for the beyond."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid her heart—"</p> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro raised a hand in interruption.</p> + +<p>"I know, Larry. Don't misunderstand me. It would have to be along the +way of her happiness or not at all. I feel almost a paternal interest in +Boone Wellver. But I've always believed that they'd grow apart with the +years and she and Morgan would grow together. Anyhow it's my dream, and +for a time yet I sha'n't let go my hold upon it." His tone changed and +again he spoke as a lawyer weighing the inelastic force of facts. "But +time is vital to you. These options must be taken up. There must be no +suspicious delay. I'll catch the next train back to town and arrange to +get money in your hands at once."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + + +<p>Boone had written to Anne after the election in a vein of satisfaction +for a race won. "It is a small thing," he candidly confessed; "nothing +more than a corporal's stripe to the man who covets the baton of a field +marshal, but you know the light that leads me, dear Evening Star. You'll +find me scrambling up the hillside toward you at least, even if, as they +would say hereabouts, 'hit's a right-smart slavish upgoin'.'"</p> + +<p>But with McCalloway, to whom he need not soften the edges of disclosure, +he spoke of something else. His victory in primary and election seemed +to demonstrate an augmented popularity, and yet he had become +instinctively cognizant of a covert but bitter undertow of hatred +against him: something unspoken and indefinable but existent and malign.</p> + +<p>McCalloway paused with his supper coffee cup half way to his lips when +Boone announced that conviction one evening, and eyed the other intently +before he made an answer.</p> + +<p>"I dare say," he hazarded at length, "that the old scars of the +Carr-Gregory war have never entirely healed. The rancour may begin to +smart afresh as your former enemies see your influence mounting."</p> + +<p>But Boone shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I've thought of that—but this is something else."</p> + +<p>"Then, my boy, what is your conjecture?"</p> + +<p>Boone's reply came slowly and thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"To you, sir, I can speak bluntly and without fear of being charged with +timidity. Frankly, sir, I'm more than half expecting to be 'lay-wayed' +some fine day as I ride along a tangled trail."</p> + +<p>"I've had to take some chances in my time," asserted the soldier +modestly, while his brows gathered in a frown, "but that is one form of +danger that always sends a shiver down my spine; the attack that comes +without warning." He broke off, then energetically added: "If <i>you</i> give +credence to such a possibility, it's not to be lightly dismissed. You +must not ride alone, hereafter."</p> + +<p>Boone laughed. "For five years old Parson Fletcher never went abroad +without the escort of an armed bodyguard. He even built a stockade +around his house, but they got him. Jim Garrard was shot to death while +militiamen stood in a hollow square about him. Precautions of that sort +don't succeed. They are only a public confession of fear, and in +politics a man can't afford such an admission. All I can do is to be +watchful."</p> + +<p>"Have you a guess as to who the man is behind this enmity?"</p> + +<p>Boone nodded as he rose and went to the mantel where the pipes and +tobacco lay.</p> + +<p>"Here and there of late I've heard a name mentioned that hasn't been +much discussed for years—the name of a man who has been away."</p> + +<p>McCalloway shot a keenly searching glance at his companion as he +interrogatively prompted,</p> + +<p>"You mean—?"</p> + +<p>"I mean Saul Fulton. Yes."</p> + +<p>Victor McCalloway went to the hearth and kicked a smoking log into the +flame. He turned then with the sternly knit brows of deep abstraction +and weighed his words before giving them utterance.</p> + +<p>"You have need to remember, my boy," he began gravely at last, "how deep +the tap-root of heredity strikes down even when the tree top stretches +far up into the sky."</p> + +<p>"Meaning—?"</p> + +<p>"Meaning, my dear boy, that I can't forget the black hatred in your eyes +one day in the woods when I wrestled with that vengeance fire +smouldering deep in your nature. You haven't forgotten that afternoon, +have you? The day when you promised that until you came of age you would +put aside the conviction that Saul Fulton was your man to kill?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't forgotten it, sir."</p> + +<p>As Boone answered, the older man thought that, if something in the blue +pupils stood for any meaning, he might also have added that neither had +he entirely conquered the bitterness of that earlier time. Then Boone +went on slowly:</p> + +<p>"I kept my word, but you wouldn't have me go so far in turning the other +cheek as to let him kill me—by his own hand or that of a +hireling—would you?"</p> + +<p>The gray eyes of the tall soldier held both sternness and reminiscence, +but the reminiscence was all for something that brought a painful train +of thought. Those were eyes that seemed looking back on smoking ruin, +and that sought out of disastrous experience, to sound a warning. Into +Boone's mind flashed a couplet:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The Emperor there in his box of state, looked grave as though he had just then seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The red flags fly from the city gates—where his eagles of bronze had been."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At times, when McCalloway wore that cryptic expression, Boone burned +with an eager curiosity to have the curtain lifted for him, and to be +able to see just what life had once spelled for this extraordinary man. +Now the veteran was speaking again with a carefully intoned voice:</p> + +<p>"I would have you defend your life, aggressively and fully, but your +honour no less jealously. I am no psychologist, but I have read that +almost every man has some spot on his sanity that is like a blind spot +on his eye. Into your blood, distilled through generations, came a +spirit that made a veritable religion of vengeance. You have sought to +modify that and to become an apostle of progress. Apparently you have +succeeded."</p> + +<p>He paused and cleared his throat, and Boone once more prompted him with +an interrogative repetition:</p> + +<p>"Apparently, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, apparently—because one hour of passion might blacken your future +into ruin; char it into destruction. In God's name make no such mistake. +If Saul Fulton seeks your life, as you suggest, he should pay for his +plotting, and pay in full. But if, by the subconscious workings of that +old hatred, you are placing the blame on Saul because Saul is the man +that instinct seeks a pretext to kill, then let me implore you to search +your soul before you act."</p> + +<p>Boone made no response, but over the clear intelligence of his pleasing +features went the cloud of that unforgettable thing that had been with +him from childhood. It was the same cloud that had settled there when he +had made shrill interruption in the courtroom where Asa Gregory's life +was being sworn away.</p> + +<p>Into McCalloway's voice leaped a fiery quality.</p> + +<p>"You have come too far to fail, Boone," he declared. "I need make no +protestations of loyalty to you. You know what your success means to me, +but I know the price a man pays who has tasted ruin. I would save you +from that if my counsel can avert it."</p> + +<p>The young man came close and looked into the eyes that had guided him.</p> + +<p>"If I ever make a mistake like that," he said, "it will not be because I +have lacked warnings."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>On the night when Larry Masters had sat until dawn by an unreplenished +fire, the physical resistance of his body had ebbed to feebleness. Under +the quenching chill of despair his pulse-beat had become as sluggish as +the unfed blaze, and the days that followed had called for exertions +which would have taxed greater reserves of vitality. They had been days +of alternating blizzard and soggy thawing, and Larry Masters had been +constantly in the saddle like a commander who seeks to remedy a break +in his lines and must not pause to consider personal exposure. A cough +wracked him, and shifting pains gnawed at his joints and chest as he +rode the slippery roads. He shivered, and his teeth chattered when the +sleet lashed his face, and when at last he turned away from the +Lexington office where he had reported the matter in hand accomplished, +he had need to keep himself studiously in hand because a tide of fever +crept hotly along his arteries and blurred his senses into confusion.</p> + +<p>When he could not rise from his bed in the bungalow to which he had +returned, a message went to Louisville, and his wife, somewhat +tight-lipped and silently resentful, yet with a stern sense of duty, +made the uncomfortable journey to Marlin Town, accompanied by a trained +nurse who would be very expensive. She tarried only until the doctor +said that the crisis was over, and then leaving the nurse behind came +back to Louisville, feeling that she had virtuously met a most annoying +obligation.</p> + +<p>To Masters, with a sorry company of memories, which, in delirium, took +human shape and gibed at his self-esteem, the bedridden days were +irksome. But one morning the sick man awoke from a restive and +nightmarish sleep to a grateful impression of sunlight on window panes +which had been gray and dripping. Then he realized that it was not, +after all, only the sun, but that there was a presence in his room.</p> + +<p>There sitting at his bedside, with eyes not austere but smiling and +sympathy-brimming, was Anne, and when he sought to question her she laid +a smooth hand on his lips and admonished: "Don't ask any questions now, +Daddy. There's lots and lots of time for that. I've come to stay with +you until you are well."</p> + +<p>There would be some lonely weeks for the girl coming fresh from town, +but they would not trouble her until the time arrived when Boone would +have to go to Frankfort for the opening of the legislature, and there +were ten days yet before that. Now he rode over every evening, and +their voices and laughter drifted into the sick room where Larry Masters +lay.</p> + +<p>Anne had no suspicion that every night Victor McCalloway sat up waiting +for Boone's return, for the most part forgetful of the book which lay on +his knee, with a crooked finger marking the place. She did not guess the +anxiety which kept his brows knit until the reassurance of footsteps at +the door relaxed them, or that on more than one occasion the soldier +even saddled his own horse and surreptitiously followed the lover with a +cocked rifle balanced protectingly on his saddle pommel. Once though, +when Boone had returned and was unsaddling, his lantern betrayed fresh +sweat and saddle marks on McCalloway's horse. McCalloway lay on his cot +but was not asleep, and the young man spoke sternly:</p> + +<p>"If you're going to follow me as a bodyguard, sir, I sha'n't feel that I +can ride over there any more—and while she's there—"</p> + +<p>McCalloway had nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"I understand," he responded. "You have my promise. I won't do it again. +I grew a bit anxious about you, tonight."</p> + +<p>Looking into the fine eyes that, for himself, knew no fear, the young +man felt a sudden choke in his throat. He could only mutter, "God bless +you, sir," and take himself off to bed.</p> + +<p>One night, though, as Boone was leaving her house, Anne stood with him +outside the door. He had taken her in his arms, and they ignored the +sweep and snarl of the night wind in their lovers' preoccupation. +Suddenly, as he held her, he bent his head, and her intuition recognized +that he was listening with strained intentness to something more remote +and faint than her own whispered words. In the abrupt tightening of his +arm muscles there was the warning of one abruptly thrown on guard, and +she whispered tensely, "What is it, Boone?"</p> + +<p>After another moment of silence, he laughed.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing at all, dear. I thought I heard a sound."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>He had not meant to give her any alarming hint of the caution which he +must so vigilantly maintain, and now he had to dissemble. It came hard +to him to lie, but she must be reassured.</p> + +<p>"That colt I'm riding tonight doesn't always stand hitched. I thought I +heard him pulling loose—and it's a long walk home."</p> + +<p>"Go and look," she commanded. "If he's broken away, come back and spend +the night here."</p> + +<p>But a few minutes later he returned and said: "It's all right. I must +have been mistaken."</p> + +<p>When she had watched him start away and melt almost at once into the +sooty darkness, it suddenly struck her as strange that he had come back +and spoken in so guarded an undertone instead of calling from the +hitching post. It might have been the lover's ready excuse for another +good night, but Anne was vaguely troubled and remained standing on the +doorstep shivering and listening.</p> + +<p>The road itself was so dark that she could rather feel than see the +closing in of the laurelled mountainsides, and as for the time of her +waiting, it might have been two minutes or five. She could not tell. The +wind was like a whispered growl, mounting now and again into a shrieking +dissonance, and there was no other sound until, as if in violent answer +to her fears, came the single report of a rifle immediately followed by +the hoarser barking of a pistol.</p> + +<p>Anne, acting with a speed that sacrificed nothing to the fluster of +panic, turned back into the house, caught up the rifle that leaned near +the door and an electric flash-torch from the table. Outside again, she +found the road wet and rutty, and through the gust-driven clouds +filtered no help from the stars, but remnants of snow along the edges of +the way gave a low hint of visibility.</p> + +<p>Several hundred yards brought her to an abrupt turning, and to her ears +there came an uncertain sound as of something heavy being thrashed about +in the mud. The girl's pupils, dilated now until the darkness was no +longer so all-concealing, could make out a shapeless mass, and it seemed +to her that the bulk—too large for a human body—stirred. Her finger +was on the button of the torch, but an impulse of caution deterred her, +and she left it unlighted. If Boone lay there wounded, her flash would +make of him a clear target for any lurking assassin.</p> + +<p>As she stood nerve-taut and with straining eyes, a furious indignation +mounted in her. The vague shape that lay prone had become still now, and +when she had almost stepped on it, she knew it for a fallen and +riderless horse. It must be Boone's, because she would have heard the +approach of another, but the man himself was nowhere in sight. So far as +outward indications went, she was herself the only human thing within +the range of her vision or the sound of her voice.</p> + +<p>Her suspense stretched until her knees grew weak, and the wind, +momentarily subsiding, left her in a stillness that was like bated +breath. Then she felt a touch on her elbow, and a voice barely audible +commanded, "Come back along the edge."</p> + +<p>Under the reflex of that relief-wave her tight-keyed nerves threatened +to collapse, but for a little longer she commanded them, and when the +two stood again in her own yard, she wilted and lay limp in her lover's +arms.</p> + +<p>"Thank God, you are safe," she whispered. "What was it?"</p> + +<p>He pressed her close and spoke reassuringly:</p> + +<p>"It may have been that I was mistaken for another man," he said. "The +most serious thing is that I'll have to walk home. My colt has been +killed."</p> + +<p>"And be assassinated on the way! No, you'll stay here!"</p> + +<p>Boone thought of the veteran sitting by the hearth waiting for his +return. He laughed.</p> + +<p>"If I go through the woods all the way, I'll be safe enough. In the +laurel it would take bloodhounds to find me, and Mr. McCalloway," he +added somewhat lamely, "wasn't very well when I left."</p> + +<p>Finally he succeeded in reassuring her. He was not apt, twice in one +night, to get another fellow's medicine, and he would avoid the highway, +but while he was fluent and persuasive for her comforting he could not +deceive himself. He could not take false solace in the thought that his +anonymous enemy's resolve, once registered, would die abornin' because +of its initial thwarting. The night had confirmed his ugly suspicion +that he was marked for death, and though he had escaped the first attack +it was not likely to be the end of the story.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + + +<p>It was almost a relief to Anne when she stood on the platform of the +dingy little station and waved her farewell to Boone, leaving for the +state capitol and his new duties. Of course, as she turned back to the +squalid vistas of the coal-mining town, a sinking loneliness assailed +her heart, but for Boone's safety she felt a blessed and compensating +security.</p> + +<p>Her father's recovery was slow and his convalescence tedious, and Anne's +diversion came in tramping the frost-sparkling hills and planning the +future that seemed as far away and dream-vague as the smoky mists on the +horizon rim.</p> + +<p>One morning as she walked briskly beyond the town she encountered an old +man who, after the simple and kindly custom of the hills, "stopped and +made his manners."</p> + +<p>"Howdy, ma'am," he began. "Hit's a tol'able keen an' nippy mornin', +hain't hit?"</p> + +<p>"Keen but fine," she smilingly replied, as her eyes lit with interest +for so pronounced a type. Had she seen him on the stage as representing +his people, she would have called the make-up a gross exaggeration. He +was tall and loose-jointed, and his long hair and beard fell in barbaric +raggedness about a face seamed with deep lines. But his eyes were shrewd +and bold, and he carried himself with a sort of innate dignity despite +the threadbare poorness of patched trousers and hickory shirt, and he +tramped the snowy hills coatless with ankles innocent of socks. The long +hickory with which he tapped the ground as he walked might have been the +staff of a biblical pilgrim, and they chatted affably until he reached +the question inevitable in all wayside meetings among hillmen.</p> + +<p>"My name's Cyrus Spradling, ma'am. What mout your'n be?"</p> + +<p>"Anne Masters," she told him. "My father is the superintendent of the +coal mine here."</p> + +<p>She was unprepared for the sudden and baleful transformation of face and +manner that swept over him with the announcement. A moment before he had +been affable, and her own eyes had sparkled delightedly at the +mother-wit of his observations and the quaint idiom and metaphor of his +speech. Now, in an instant, he stiffened into affronted rigidity, and +made no effort to conceal the black, almost malignant, wave of hostility +that usurped the recent mildness of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ye're ther same one that used ter be Boone Wellver's gal," he declared +scornfully; and the girl, accustomed to local idiosyncrasies, flushed +less at the direct personality of the statement than at the accusing +note of its delivery.</p> + +<p>"Used to be?" The question was the only response that for the instant of +surprise came to her mind.</p> + +<p>Cyrus Spradling spat on the ground as his staff beat a tattoo.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, thet war y'ars back, an' ye hain't nuver wedded with him yit." +The old man stood there actually trembling with a rage induced by +something at which she had no means of guessing.</p> + +<p>She, too, drew herself up with a sudden stiffness and would have turned +away, but he was prompter.</p> + +<p>"Hit 'pears like no woman won't hev him! I reckon I don't blame 'em +none, nuther. I disgusts ther feller my own self," and before she could +gather any key to the extraordinary incident, he had gone trudging on, +mumbling the while into his unshaven beard.</p> + +<p>Anne walked perplexedly homeward, and out of it all she could winnow +only one kernel of comprehensible detail. Obviously she had met an enemy +of Boone's, and yet she had heard Mr. McCalloway speak with warmth of +the neighbourly kindness of Cyrus Spradling.</p> + +<p>When she entered the house her father was sitting before the hearth, +somewhat emaciated after his tedious convalescence, and his eyes +followed her with a wistful dependence as she measured his medicine and +rearranged the pillows at his back.</p> + +<p>When, finally, she, too, drew a chair close to the blaze, the man said +seriously:</p> + +<p>"When your mother was your age, Anne, you had been born."</p> + +<p>To this statistical announcement, the obvious response being denied by +kindness, she made no answer. Perhaps she could not help reflecting had +her mother been more deliberate, many years of discontent might have +been escaped.</p> + +<p>"My family has little to thank me for," observed Masters at last, with a +candour that the daughter found embarrassing. "Conversely, I dare say, I +have little claim to expect much—and yet even life's derelicts are +subject to human emotions."</p> + +<p>"For instance, Daddy?"</p> + +<p>"Tom Wallifarro stands pretty close to his allotment of three score and +ten," came the thoughtful answer. "Neither your mother nor I is exactly +young. It would be a comfort to think of you as settled, with your own +life plans drawn and arranged."</p> + +<p>The girl smiled up at him from her low chair. "Daddy," she said softly, +"you know what I'm waiting for. You're the one person of my own blood +that I can take into full confidence, because you're the only one who +doesn't think of my life as a piece of cloth to be cut and fitted to +Morgan's measure, whether it suits me or not. You've never said much, +but I've known you were on my side."</p> + +<p>For the first time in her memory her father was not immediately +responsive. His hand falling on her bright head rested there with a +dubious touch, and his eyes were irresolutely clouded.</p> + +<p>"I wonder, dear," he said slowly, "whether, after all, I don't agree +with the others—in part, at least. All my life I've been an insurgent, +scorning the caution of the provident, and paying a beastly stiff price +for my mutiny against smugly accepted rules of the game."</p> + +<p>"A woman has only one life to share," she answered firmly. "It's not +exactly insurgency to insist on loving the man."</p> + +<p>After a little he inquired, "You <i>are</i> fond of Morgan, though, aren't +you? If there were no Boone Wellver, for instance, you might even love +him, mightn't you?"</p> + +<p>"There is a Boone, though." She spoke quietly but with a finality that +seemed to close the doors upon discussion, and a silence followed.</p> + +<p>Finally, however, Larry Masters cleared his throat in an embarrassed +fashion. "I spoke a while back of wanting to see you protected in the +shelter of a home. Since we've embarked on the subject, I'm going to +tell you something more. A certain truth has been carefully withheld +from you, and I believe you ought to know it."</p> + +<p>"What truth?" Her eyes widened a little, and the man shifted his +position uneasily.</p> + +<p>"The true realization of how deeply we all stand in Tom Wallifarro's +debt," he made blunt response.</p> + +<p>"I've always known," she hastily declared, "that he's been a fairy +godfather, and given me things—luxurious things—that mother's income +couldn't run to."</p> + +<p>Larry Masters laughed with a shade of bitterness.</p> + +<p>"Your mother has never had any income, Anne. As for myself, there's +never been a time since you were a baby when I could make buckle and +tongue meet. That's the whole ugly truth. House-rent, clothes, food, +education, everything, necessities as well as comforts, livelihood as +well as luxuries—the whole lot and parcel have come to my wife and my +daughter from the generous hand of Tom Wallifarro. But for that, God +knows what their lives would have been."</p> + +<p>Anne Masters rose and stood unsteadily on the rag rug before the stone +flaggings of the hearth.</p> + +<p>"You mean ... that we ... have ... been actual dependents on his +kindness—that we've just been ... charity ... parasites?"</p> + +<p>The girl's hands came to her bosom and a shiver ran through her. The +warm flood of colour left her cheeks, and her eyes were deep with +chagrined amazement.</p> + +<p>The man did not answer the questions, and she went on with another:</p> + +<p>"Do you mean ... for I must know ... that we've lived as we have on +nothing but ... generous charity?... That he's been paying all these +years what it cost ... to raise me properly ... for his son?"</p> + +<p>"Hold on, Anne—" The convalescent raised an admonitory hand. "There's +danger of doing people who love you a grave injustice. Tom Wallifarro +would go to his grave with his lips sealed, though torture were used to +open them, before he would seek to coerce you or make you unhappy. If +you've never been told the facts, it was because he preferred that there +should be no burdensome sense of obligation."</p> + +<p>"But always," Anne insisted faintly, as though oppressed by poignant +physical pain, "he has done these things ... with the one ... idea ... +that I was to be ... his son's wife."</p> + +<p>"I should rather say," quietly amended Larry Masters, "with that dream +and hope."</p> + +<p>"And, Mother," she asked, in a strangely strained voice, "Mother has +assured him that ... when the time comes ... she could ... deliver the +goods?"</p> + +<p>Larry had seen Anne in childhood transports of passion, but never before +cold and white in such a stillness of wrath as that which transformed +her now. Her eyes made him feel the accomplice in some monstrous traffic +upon his daughter's womanhood, and it was difficult to remain complacent +under her cross-examining.</p> + +<p>"Your mother has had the same dream and hope. If the marriage was not +repugnant to you, I dare say it would take cavilling to criticize it."</p> + +<p>"You don't see, then ..."—the girl felt suddenly faint and dizzy as she +moved a little to the side and leaned inertly against the wall—"you +don't see that the very chivalry of Uncle Tom's conduct ... enslaves me +a ... hundred times ... more strongly ... than a cruder effort to force +me? You don't see that ... he's paid for me ... and that if Boone came +today ... with a marriage license ... I couldn't marry him ... without +feeling that I must buy ... myself back first?"</p> + +<p>"That, of course, my dear, is a morbid and distorted view."</p> + +<p>"Is it? Haven't I eaten the food and worn out the clothes and acquired +the education that were all only items of an investment for Morgan's +future? Haven't I used these payments made on that investment only to +take them away from him and give them to some one else? I haven't even +been given the chance of protest against these chains of damnable +kindness."</p> + +<p>"You seem, my dear, to have given your heart to Boone, and that settles +it, I suppose. I might wish it otherwise—Tom and your mother may still +cling to the other hope, but—"</p> + +<p>"You say I've given my heart to Boone," she interrupted fiercely, "but I +find that it wasn't mine to give. I find that I wasn't a free agent. I +had already been mortgaged and remortgaged for things not only used by +me but by my mother, and—" She paused, and Masters added with a twisted +smile of chagrin,</p> + +<p>"Yes—and your father."</p> + +<p>"But how about Boone?" she demanded. "What of the debt owed to him? Did +they have the right to barter off his happiness as well as mine?"</p> + +<p>"Tom Wallifarro," her father gravely reminded her, "has been a +benefactor to Boone. Tom Wallifarro has not complained. Moreover, the +wounds of youth are not quite so fatal as they seem when one suffers +them. If they were, few men would live to middle-age. I dare say Boone +would survive even if he lost you."</p> + +<p>Anne's brain was dizzy and stunned. Mortification and wretchedness were +blurring the focus of her vision, and this suggestion that after all she +was exaggerating her importance in Boone Wellver's life seemed the +dictum she could not allow to pass unchallenged. With an instinctive +lashing out of her hot emotions she pitched the battle on that single +issue, an issue which seemed to determine whether after all she was +fighting in fairness and clean conscience for independence, or only +clinging to a selfishness that trod toward its gratification on the +happiness of others.</p> + +<p>"Prove that to me," she retorted in the same cold fury. "Prove that he +doesn't need me and that I'm thinking only of myself, and I'll marry +anybody you say. I'll obediently deliver myself over and say, 'Here's +your marriageable asset. Do what you like with it.'"</p> + +<p>Her words had not been torrential, but glacially cold and hard under the +congealing pressure of indignation, but now the tone broke into +something like a sob, as she declared:</p> + +<p>"Boone has had only one girl in his life. His whole scheme has been +built about me. Show me that a love like that is only a whim, and I'll +agree that this chattel idea of marriage is as good as any other, and +I'll submit to it."</p> + +<p>Swiftly Larry Masters repressed a smile. Anne, he reflected, did not +realize how often that refurbished fiction has been retailed as an axiom +by young hearts in equinox.</p> + +<p>"Why did you smile, Father?" she demanded militantly, and he shook his +heed.</p> + +<p>"I was only reflecting," he assured her, "that every girl thinks that of +every man she loves."</p> + +<p>"Do you know of anything to disprove it in the present case?"</p> + +<p>"Since you ask," he made hesitant reply, "I did hear some +unsubstantiated rumours hereabouts that he had proposed and been +rejected by a mountain girl—Cyrus Spradling's daughter."</p> + +<p>Cyrus Spradling's daughter! At the name, Anne saw again the lank +mountaineer of the loose joints and the uncombed hair, who this morning +had parted from her mumbling maledictions against Boone.</p> + +<p>He had been a mystery then. Now his name falling into the conversation +like a shell that has found its range, had the demoralizing force of an +explosion. Her belief was no weathervane to veer lightly, but the bruise +on her heart was sensitive even to the touch of a breeze, and it was +freshly sore.</p> + +<p>"Who—ever told you that," she asseverated in slow syllables, "was a +liar. I'd gamble my life on it." Then having made her confession of +faith in those staunch terms, she illogically demanded, "When was this +alleged affair?"</p> + +<p>"Just after he finished college, I believe. I can't be quite sure."</p> + +<p>"At that time," said Anne Masters, "and before that, and after that, +Boone loved me. It was no divided or vacillating love. I'm so sure of +him that I'm perfectly willing to stake everything on it. I'm willing, +if I'm wrong, even to pay off my mortgage!"</p> + +<p>"Since you take that view," said her father, "I'm sorry to have repeated +the story. I hadn't regarded it as so damning, myself. Young men +sometimes love more than once without forfeiting all human respect. You +might ask Boone about it? I don't fancy he'd lie to you."</p> + +<p>"I will ask him," she vehemently declared, "and if there's any atom of +truth in it—and I know there isn't—I don't care whom I marry or what +happens afterwards! As to Uncle Tom, I don't think I can go on another +day being his charity child."</p> + +<p>"If you don't, you'll break his heart," her father told her, in a voice +of urgent persuasiveness. "For the present, at least, you must regard +what I've told you as Masonically confidential."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because he would see himself as having hurt you where he sought only to +be a loving magician with a wand of kindness, and I'm not the man to +injure him like that." He hesitated, and the climax of his statement +came with explosive suddenness. "Good God, Anne, he's just saved me from +disgrace."</p> + +<p>Then came the story of Colonel Wallifarro's latest benefaction, and at +the end of it the girl pressed her hands to temples that were hot.</p> + +<p>"I think," she said falteringly, "I'll go out for a while where the air +is fresher. It's very close in here."</p> + +<p>The door closed silently, almost stealthily, behind her, and Masters +thought she walked with the noiseless care of one moving in a chamber of +death.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + + +<p>Anne Masters looked out of the car windows with shadowed and preoccupied +eyes on that journey from the mountains back to Louisville. The old +conductor who always stopped and chatted with her, after a glance at her +expression, punched her ticket and passed on. Something was not well +with her, he reflected.</p> + +<p>To this girl, the joyous sense of freedom had been the essence of life, +and now she was going home with the feeling of one who has passed under +a yoke. It was as if henceforth she were to know the sea which she had +adventurously sailed in liberty only from the chained oar bench of the +galley slave. She felt humiliated and utterly miserable, and perhaps, +worst of all, she was oppressed by an unrelieved realization of her own +futility. Beside the competence of the young woman who took dictation at +Morgan's desk, her own social accomplishments appeared for the first +time summoned for comparison, and the parallel left her branded in her +own mind as an economic parasite. Marriage was the one way in which a +woman of her sort could finance her life, and the only marriage which +for her would be a fulfilment and not a travesty—itself requiring +financing—lay remote.</p> + +<p>Anne repressed the first indignant impulse to write to Boone of the +unjustifiable charge against him to which she had been forced to listen. +There at the capital he was adjusting himself to new duties and settling +his shoulders into an unaccustomed harness. She knew that he took these +things seriously since he meant to use their opportunities as +stepping-stones to broader achievement, and a letter on such a subject +would seem hysterical and wanting in faith, when perhaps he was most +depending on that faith. Now she told herself that except for having +unalterably committed herself to that course with foolish emphasis, she +would not even speak incidentally to Boone of the matter. She assured +herself that already she knew the answer and needed no further +evidence—but a pledge was a pledge, and she must have the reply to take +from his lips to her father.</p> + +<p>Yet in the weeks which intervened before that opportunity arrived, the +repudiated matter rankled like a poison, which abates none of its +malignity because its victim has pasted an innocuous label on the +bottle.</p> + +<p>So one day, while Anne was being tortured in spirit and was telling +herself that she was serenely untroubled, Boone was at the school where +Happy Spradling had for some years been a member of the teaching staff.</p> + +<p>His eyes were glowing with appreciation as he went about the place, +recognizing the magic that had grown there. It had woven its spell out +of the dauntless resolution of a little coterie of women who, like +unostentatious vestals, had kindled and fed here, where it meant +everything, the fire of education and wholesomeness. Surrounded by a +hinterland where sloven illiteracy fostered lawlessness, that fire +burned in houses that stood up as monuments both of practical utility +and surprising beauty. Its light was reflected in keen young faces +hungry for education and smiling young eyes in which Boone read the +presage of a new future for his people.</p> + +<p>Women had done this thing: women for the most part from the Bluegrass +who had surrendered ease and chosen effort: women who, out of a +volunteer greatness of spirit, elected to "wait in heavy harness on +fluttered folk and wild."</p> + +<p>Boone drew a long breath of silent tribute and homage. It pleased him to +think, too, that not all of the magic-makers came from beyond the hills. +Happy was one of them. In these years she had developed until one might +not have guessed that she, too, had not come from the source of a +gentler rearing. She had met the representative of her district as an +old friend, but in no glance or inflection was there a hint that between +them lay any buried memory.</p> + +<p>"They sent for you to come here," the girl told him, as she showed him +over the redeemed grounds, "because we want your help. They didn't know +that we were old friends, and I didn't mention it. You see what we are +trying to do here, but we need roads. A country without highways is a +house without windows. That is where you can help us. We're very poor, +you know."</p> + +<p>"You're making the country very rich," he answered gravely, and he +returned to Frankfort with the affairs of that school near his heart.</p> + +<p>That week-end he went to Louisville, and as he sat at Anne's right at a +dinner party a mood of romanticism laid its glamour upon his thoughts. +Tonight he could seem to step back across the years and stand looking +into the hungry, discontented eyes of a boy in hodden-gray perched on +the topmost rail of a rotting fence. It seemed incredible that that boy +had been himself. To that boy, all life except the hard realities of a +pioneer people had been an untried thing of formless dream tissue.</p> + +<p>And tonight he sat here! In many respects it was just such a table and +just such a company as everywhere reflected the niceties of civilized +society, yet in the little intimate things it was distinctive.</p> + +<p>In the voices, the colloquialisms—the very colour of thought—spoke the +spirit of the South—not the Old South, perhaps, yet the offspring of a +mother who had passed on much of herself.</p> + +<p>From the log cabin to this dinner seemed to him the measure of his +progress thus far. It was as though with seven-league boots he had +crossed the centuries!</p> + +<p>Behind him lay a boyhood that belonged to the little sectionalism of the +backwoods settlement. Here was the widening circle of the life evolved +out of it, yet still a circle of sectionalism. What lay beyond?</p> + +<p>In his imagination the young Kentuckian saw the dome of the capitol at +Washington, the nerve centre of the nation, where functioned the broad +affairs of statecraft. Above the dome an afterglow hung in the sky, and +in it shone a single star—the evening star. That, of course, was a long +way off, yet from Louisville to Washington seemed a shorter and smoother +road than from the laurel thickets to Louisville. Youth was his, and a +resolution forged and tempered. Ambition was his, and the incentive of a +beacon whose light he renewed whenever he looked into the violet eyes +that were not far from his own.</p> + +<p>The race would not, of course, be easy. There would be the heart-testing +smother of effort before the prize was won, but the future lay open, and +he coveted no victory of unwrung withers and unwearied lungs.</p> + +<p>Thank God, the one thing without which he must fail was surely his: the +loyalty of the woman he loved.</p> + +<p>Anne had been unusually quiet and grave this evening, but he had arrived +on a late train and had as yet had no opportunity for talk with her +alone. That would come later.</p> + +<p>When he had driven home with her, he followed her into the old parlour, +with its ripe portraits from the brush of Jouett, and the cheery blaze +of its open fire. With her opera cloak thrown across his arm, he watched +her go over and stand on the hearth, while the firelight played on the +ivory whiteness and the satin softness of her neck and shoulders, and +made a nimbus about her bright hair.</p> + +<p>"You're not wearing your string of pearls tonight," he smiled; and she +smiled, too, but not happily.</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "I thought I wouldn't."</p> + +<p>She did not add that she had not worn them because they were the gift of +Colonel Wallifarro and seemed to her an emblem of bondage.</p> + +<p>All that she would tell him in a few minutes, but first she had an +awkward question to ask which had hung over her all evening as the +threat of bedtime punishment hangs over a child. Now she meant to +dispose of that quickly and categorically and have it done with. She +felt shamed, as his frank eyes met hers, to broach an inquiry that +seemed so nearly an insult to his allegiance. But she stood pledged and +she had planned the matter in just one fashion. There would be the +question and the negative reply, then the ghost would be laid.</p> + +<p>That there could be any other answer than "No," however modified or +justified by circumstance, had not entered into her premises of thought +as conceivable. The general who, no matter how flawless his +plan-in-chief, has arranged no alternative strategy, is a commander +doomed. Anne had admitted in advance no substitute for absolute denial.</p> + +<p>Now she turned and spoke gently:</p> + +<p>"Before we talk of anything else, dear, there's a question I must ask +you, and you must answer it in one word—yes, or no. You'll want to say +more, and afterwards you may—but not at first." She paused, and a note +of apology crept into the voice that went on again: "I feel disloyal +even to ask it, but it's a thing I'm pledged to do, and I'll explain the +reason afterwards."</p> + +<p>Boone smiled with the confidence of a man for whom the witness stand +holds no terror.</p> + +<p>"Ask it, dearest."</p> + +<p>"Did you ... ever"—she faltered a moment, then went hurriedly on, as if +racing against a failure of resolve—"ask ... any other girl ... to +marry you?"</p> + +<p>The smile was struck from his face in an instant, leaving his eyes +pained and his lips straight and tight, and her gaze, fixed on his, read +the swift change of expression and responded with a sudden terror in her +own pupils.</p> + +<p>"I was never ... in love with any one...!"</p> + +<p>"One word!" Her interruption came in a tone he had never heard her use +before. It was so quiet that it carried with it a chill like that of +death. "Yes or no."</p> + +<p>Boone felt a cold moisture on his hands and temples. A matter easy to +explain had, of a sudden, become inexplicable. Looking back over lapsed +years, all the quixotic urging of a false sense of justice had gone out +of conduct which had then seemed so mandatory. The inescapable +obligation to which he had responded seemed empty and twisted now. He +could see only that he had insulted Happy with a half offer and been +false to his avowed love of Anne and to his duty to himself.</p> + +<p>That, at the time, he had been groping toward a callow and half-baked +conception of honour failed now to extenuate his blunder, and if he +himself could no longer understand it, how could he hope to make her do +so?</p> + +<p>His voice came in a dull monotone.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I did. May I explain?"</p> + +<p>In the credo of this girl's life fairness and generosity were twin +cornerstones, and condemnation without hearing was an abhorrent and mean +injustice. But the unadmitted poison of an accusation fought in secret +had been insidiously undermining her sanity on the one central theme of +her life, and Boone's affirmative had seemed to sever with a shock of +complete surprise the anchor cable of her faith.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, and for once it might have been the acid-marred voice of +her mother, "that's all I need to know."</p> + +<p>"But, Anne"—Boone took an impulsive step toward her and sought to speak +sanely, while he held off the sense of chaos under which his brain +staggered—"but, Anne, after all these years, you can't throw overboard +your faith in me without giving me a chance to be heard."</p> + +<p>She laughed bitterly, and of course that was hysteria, but to the man it +seemed only derision.</p> + +<p>"Until three minutes ago," she said, "I would have staked my life on my +faith in you ... I did just about do it.... Now, I'm afraid ... there +isn't any left ... to throw away."</p> + +<p>"If you ever had any," he declared—and he, too, spoke under a stress +that gave an unaccustomed hardness to his voice, "there should be some +still. The answer you held me to answers nothing. It gives no +reason—no explanation."</p> + +<p>"The reasons ... don't count for much. Yes means yes. It means years of +deceit and lies to me.... Good-bye."</p> + +<p>Boone Wellver turned and walked to the door. His eyes, fixed ahead, saw +nothing. As he went, he collided with a table and paused, looking at it +with a dazed sense of injury. On the threshold he halted to speak in a +voice which was queer and uncommanded.</p> + +<p>"You are sending me away," he said, "without a chance. I still have +faith in you ... unless it's a false faith, you'll send for me to come +back ... and give me that chance.... Until you do, I won't ask it ... or +try to see you."</p> + +<p>The girl stood looking past him in a sort of trance. "Good-bye," she +repeated, and he took up his coat and hat and went out.</p> + +<p>For a little while after he had gone Anne Masters remained staring with +a stunned and transfixed immobility at the empty frame of the door +through which he had gone; a frame it seemed to her out of which had +suddenly been torn the picture of her life, leaving a tattered canvas. +She shivered violently; then she, too, started toward the door, swayed +unsteadily, and fell insensible.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A measure before the lower house of the General Assembly had split it so +evenly that when the roll call came on the vote, a deadlock was +predicted and one absentee might bring defeat to his cause. After each +adjournment noses were jealously counted, and the falling gavel, calling +each session to order, found Boone in his seat with a face that sought +to mask its misery behind a stony expressionlessness. It was a deadly +sober face with eyes that wandered often into abstraction, so that men +who had seen it heretofore ready of smile commented on the change, yet +hesitated to question one so palpably aloof.</p> + +<p>In these days it was hard for Boone to see, with his single purpose +shattered, the reason or value of any purpose, yet habit held him to his +routine duties with an overserious and humourless inflexibility.</p> + +<p>After the first dull wretchedness of the night when he and Anne had +parted, he had laid hold upon a hope which had not endured. He had told +himself with the persistence of a refrain that the girl who had that +night condemned him out of hand was a girl temporarily bereft of +reasoning balance by a tide of heartache and a tempest of anger. The +mail would soon bring him a note announcing the restoration of the woman +he loved to her own gracious fairness and serene self-recovery. He could +not, without losing his whole grip on life, bring himself to the +admission that the passion of a wild, ungenerous moment would endure. +Indeed, the thought of what she must have suffered—what she must still +be suffering—so to carry her and hold her outside her whole orbit of +being, tortured him as much as his own personal loss and grief.</p> + +<p>But no word had come. That wild, hurried interview had moved with such +torrential haste and violence to its culmination of breached +understanding that there had been no time for stemming it with +moderation or explained circumstances.</p> + +<p>She had not had the chance to tell him of the disclosures her father had +made, or of the sense of bondage that had weighed upon her until the +colour of her thought had lost its clarity and become bewilderingly +turgid. She had not been able to let the light into the festering +brooding that had subconsciously poisoned her mind. A single idea had +carried all else with it as a flood carries wreckage. For years she had +stood out for Boone. A time had come when he had been charged with +absolute duplicity toward her, and she had scornfully wagered her life +on his fealty and submitted the whole vital matter to one question. His +answer had been a confession.</p> + +<p>There had been no years of intermittent association when he could +logically or decently have entertained another love affair. From the +first day of his avowed allegiance until now there had been no break in +his protestations. Therefore, the word "yes" or "no" contained all the +answer there could be to the question of his loyalty, and the word which +shattered the whole dream came from his own lips.</p> + +<p>One day, as Boone was leaving his hotel room for the state house, two +letters were handed him, and his heart leaped into drum-beat. One was +addressed in her hand, and that one he thrust into his pocket, as one +saves the best to read last.</p> + +<p>The other was an invitation from Colonel Wallifarro: an engraved blank +filled in with a name and date. In a secluded corner of the hard-frozen, +state house grounds he sat on a bench to read the note from Anne, but +when he had torn the envelope and glanced at the sheet the light went +out of his eyes and his bronzed cheeks became suddenly drawn.</p> + +<p>"I thought you might like to know," she said. "The invitation from Uncle +Tom looks innocent enough, but I don't think you'd enjoy the party. It's +given to announce my engagement to Morgan."</p> + +<p>Boone sat there dazed, while in the icy air his breath floated cloudlike +before his lips.</p> + +<p>Eventually he awoke to some realization of the passage of time, and +looked at his watch. It was past the hour for the roll-call on the bill +which his absence might deliver into the hands of the enemy, the cause +for which he and his colleagues had been fighting.</p> + +<p>He came with an effort to his feet and went heavily through the corridor +and into the chamber. At the door, where he leaned against the casing, +he heard the clerk of the house calling the roll, and the staccato +"Ayes" and "Noes" of the responses. Already the alphabetical sequence +had progressed to the U's, and soon his own name would follow. Then it +came, and at first his stiff tongue could not answer. He was licking his +lips and his throat worked with some spasmodic reflex. Finally he heard +a strained and unnatural voice, which he could hardly recognize as his +own, answering "No."</p> + +<p>Heads turned toward him at the queer sound, and from somewhere rose a +twittering of laughter. That was perhaps natural enough, for to the +casual and uncomprehending eye he made a spectacle both sorry and +ludicrous—this usually self-contained young man who now stood +stammering and disordered of guise, like a fellow not wholly recovered +from a night-long debauch.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> + + +<p>The transforming touch of a razor, a studied amendment of manner and +apparel, and the passing of ten years: these are things which can work +an effective disguise for an Enoch Arden returned to village streets +that knew him long ago. Quietly dressed in clothes that were neither +good enough nor mean enough to arrest the passing eye, a middle-aged man +dropped from the evening train onto the cinder platform at Marlin Town.</p> + +<p>Shrewd winds whipped in through icicled ravines, and the new arrival +fresh from equatorial latitudes shivered under their sting.</p> + +<p>He thrust his hands into his pockets and scowled about him. For so long +his memory had softened the uneven contours and colours of this town +with the illusory qualities of homesickness that now its tawdry +actuality brought something of a shock. It was all raw and comfortless, +and as the newcomer looked up at the forbidding summits he snarled to +himself, "They ain't a patch on the Andes."</p> + +<p>Across from the old brick court house, with its dilapidated cupola and +its indefinable air of the mediaeval, sat the general store, proclaimed +in a sign of crippled lettering, "The Big Emporium." Tom Carr's nephews +directed this centre of industry and, from a grimy "office" above +stairs, Tom Carr directed his nephews. Until recent days he had also +directed, with a dictator's fiat power, most of the affairs of the +countryside. From that second-story room, the Gregories would have +declared with conviction Tom's father had "hired" Asa's father killed. +It was in its unadorned fashion a place of crumbling traditions.</p> + +<p>Sitting there of late, Tom had done some unvarnished thinking anent the +expanding influence of young Boone Wellver.</p> + +<p>He was sitting there now in the light and reek of a smoky lamp, by a +stove that was red-hot with no window open, and he was alone. He heard +the wooden stairs creaking under the ascending tread of stranger feet, +for to his acute ears footsteps were as individual as voices, and his +head inclined expectantly. Tom was waiting there for a man who had +written him a letter.</p> + +<p>There followed a rap on the panels, and in response to his growled +permission the door opened and closed almost without sound, showing +inside the threshold a man clean shaven and inconspicuously dressed.</p> + +<p>"Howdy, Saul," welcomed the seated baron of diminished powers. "I'd call +hit a right boldacious thing ter do—comin' back hyar—if I stood in +yore shoes."</p> + +<p>Into the furtive eyes of the visitor came a shallow flash of bravado.</p> + +<p>"Who's to hinder me, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Young Boone Wellver's got ter be a right huge power in these parts here +of late. He don't love ye none lavish, ef what folks norrates be true."</p> + +<p>Saul seated himself, with a shrug of the shoulders. "I've had run-ins +with worse men than him," he declared, "and I'm still on the hoof."</p> + +<p>"On the hoof an' fattenin', I should say," graciously acceded the leader +of the Carrs. "Ye've got a corn-fed look about ye, Saul."</p> + +<p>"I stayed away from home," continued Fulton, "so long as it was to my +profit to be elsewheres. Now it suits me to come back, and there isn't +room enough here for both me an' him."</p> + +<p>The elderly feudist surveyed his visitor with a cool shrewdness, and +after a long pause he remarked drily: "Ef so be, Boone Wellver was +called ter his reward, Saul, I wouldn't hardly buy me no mournin' +clothes, but for my own self I don't dast break ther truce. Howsomever, +when a feller hits at a snake he had ought ter <i>git</i> hit. Thet feller +thet ye hired ter lay-way him hyar of late didn't seem ter enjoy no +master luck."</p> + +<p>"All he needed was a little overseein'," retorted Saul blandly. "That's +why I'm here now. I've got to lay low for a while because there's still +the little matter of an indictment outstandin' but the same man stands +in your light and mine—we ought to be able to do some business +together."</p> + +<p>"Things have changed a mighty heap," demurred Tom uneasily, but Saul +laughed.</p> + +<p>"Let's change them back, then," he responded.</p> + +<p>The plotting of a murder is erroneously presumed by the unpracticed to +be an affair of hushed voices and deeply closeted conspirators. Between +these two craftsmen it was discussed in the calm hard-headedness of +severe practicality. To Saul, who had been long an absentee, Tom Carr's +intimate familiarity with current conditions proved a bureau of vital +statistics. To Tom, who saw in Boone a dangerous trouble-maker and who +yet hesitated to make a feud-killing of the matter, the hand of a +volunteer was welcome, and so, as they talked, a community of interests +developed. Tom was to provide Saul with an inconspicuous refuge, and +Saul was to do the rest. A few others whose active participation was +needed were to be taken into confidence, but the secret was to be held +in close-guarded circle.</p> + +<p>It is said that no other bitterness can be so saturated as that of the +apostate, and Saul brought into Tom's presence one day a boyish fellow +whose blood was Gregory blood but whose one strong emotion seemed to be +hatred of his own breed. He had been selected by the intriguer as the +man to take in hand and carry to success the assassination of Boone +Wellver.</p> + +<p>Into Tom's office slouched "Little" Jim Bartleton by the front way, and +into it, by back stairs, came Saul at the same time.</p> + +<p>Until a short time back no one had thought much about Little Jim. He had +not been a positive personality until recently, when he had taken to +drink and developed a mean streak. Always he had been fearless, but that +elicited no comment in a land where cowards are few. His most recent +friendships had all been among the Carrs, and no insult to his own +people had been uttered in his hearing which he had not capped with one +more scathing.</p> + +<p>Just where his grievance lay had been his own secret. For Saul's +purpose, it sufficed that it existed and was dominant.</p> + +<p>"Son," questioned Tom Carr in his suave voice, "I see plenty of reasons +why a feller should disgust Boone Wellver, but he's yore kin. Why does +ye hate him so?"</p> + +<p>The answer came, prefaced with a string of oaths:</p> + +<p>"I hain't nuver named this hyar ter nairy man afore now, but I aimed ter +wed an', ter git me money enough, I sot me up a small still-house nigh +ter whar he dwells at."</p> + +<p>Spurts of hatred shot out of the speaker's dark eyes; eyes which in +kindlier moods were lighted by intelligence.</p> + +<p>"Ef I'd been left alone I could of got me enough money ter do what I +wanted ter do ... ther gal was ready ter hev me. But, damn his +law-an'-order, hypocritical piety! he hed ter nose out my still an' warn +me thet without I quit he'd tip me off ter ther revenuer."</p> + +<p>"Some folks," put in Tom, "moutn't even hev warned ye."</p> + +<p>"Thet's jest ther p'int," panted the boy. "He told ther revenuer +fust-off an' then warned me atterwards. Ef hit hedn't of been fer a +right gay piece of luck, ther raiders would of come afore I got ther +still hid away—an' I'd be sulterin' in jail right now. I've done swore +ter kill him."</p> + +<p>"An' ther gal, son," prompted Tom gently.</p> + +<p>The black face went even blacker.</p> + +<p>"I reckon," he said savagely, "she don't aim ter wait fer me no longer. +I owes thet ter Boone Wellver, too."</p> + +<p>"An' so ye're willin'—?"</p> + +<p>"Plumb willin' an' anxious! I've done held my counsel. He don't +suspicion how I feels.... I knows every path an' by-way over thar. I +knows every step he takes when he's at home. Thar hain't no fashion I +could fail."</p> + +<p>"An' ye knows, too, how ter keep yore mouth shut?"</p> + +<p>"I hain't nuver told nuthin' yit."</p> + +<p>The two conspirators looked at each other and nodded. Here was an agent +who could move without suspicion and act out of his own ardour of +hatred. Decidedly he was a discovery.</p> + +<p>So the hireling was instructed and given a leave of absence to go and +"set up with ther gal in Leslie County." But he did not go to Leslie +County. He went, instead, by a roundabout road to the state capital, and +one evening knocked on the door of Boone Wellver's hotel room.</p> + +<p>When the messenger arrived, Boone was sitting alone with a brooding +face, while in his hand he held a telegram which had fallen like an +unwarned bolt on his lascerated soreness of spirit.</p> + +<p>Two hours ago he had received and read it. In it Victor McCalloway had +said: "Deeply regret not seeing you for farewell. Called suddenly for +indefinite absence. Luck and prosperity to you always."</p> + +<p>Luck and prosperity! Boone just now was hoping at best to fend off +despair and a total disintegration of a hard-built structure of ideals. +To McCalloway his thoughts had turned for the succour of a steadying +calm—and that one ally was no longer in reach. Boone had read the words +with a numbed heart, for now out of the confusion of tempest-smother +that beat about him he had lost even the solace of the bell-buoy's +strong note.</p> + +<p>This misfortune, be assured himself, at least exhausted the +possibilities of perverse circumstance to hurt him. Misfortune's box of +tricks were empty now!</p> + +<p>Tonight Colonel Wallifarro was entertaining at dinner. Anne would be +smiling as they congratulated her. A little while ago he had been at +just such a dinner, marvelling greatly at the good fortune that had +brought to him such progress. Now it stood for the emptiness of effort.</p> + +<p>Tonight he wanted the hills—not calm and star-lit, but rocking to +hurricane fury and thundering with flood. No voice of all their voices +could be too wild or ruthless for his temper.</p> + +<p>Boone was in a dangerous mood. He sat there with no eye to censor him, +and more than once he winced, biting back an outcry. His strongly thewed +shoulders heaved and flinched with thoughts that fell on quivering +brain-nerves like the merciless lashing of an invisible scourge. He +tried to analyze himself and his relation to affairs outside himself, +but his psychological attuning was pitched only to such an agony as +cries for outlet. Everything that he was, he bitterly reflected, was a +summary of acquired ethics designed to bury and hide his natural +heritages. He was a tamed and performing wild animal, and just now the +only assuagement that tempted him was the instinct to be wild again—to +lash out and punish some one for his hurting.</p> + +<p>The star that had led him had gone out, but one could not punish a star. +Even in his frenzied wretchedness he could not even want to punish his +star.</p> + +<p>But her world—to which he had climbed with a dominant ambition—that +was different. That smugly superior world had betrayed him.</p> + +<p>The young features hardened, and the eyes kindled into the +lightning-play that leads men, but it was such a leadership as animates +the chief who dances around the war fires and no longer of him who +smokes the pipe of sane counsel.</p> + +<p>Just now it would take little to send the pedestal of acquired thought +down in ruin. Just now an enemy would not have been safe within the +reach of his blow.</p> + +<p>Yet with a pale, expiring flicker, struggling through darkness, there +remained a half realization that this was all a delirium which he must +combat and overcome.</p> + +<p>"I reckon," he said aloud, with that self-pity which is not good for a +man, "I've been as deep down in hell today as a man can go." Then he +started as a knock came on his door, and into the room stepped Jim +Bartleton of Marlin Town.</p> + +<p>"Saul Fulton's done come back," he announced curtly, "an' Tom Carr's +done tuck him in. I'm one of the men thet's been hired ter kill ye."</p> + +<p>Of course, the tale of the still and the threatened raid was of a piece +with all of Jim Bartleton's hatred; of a piece, too, with his seeming +degeneration. Boone Wellver, facing the animosities of enemies who +fought with ancient guile, had sought to meet that condition. "Little" +Jim was one of several, wholly faithful to him, who had undertaken to +insinuate themselves into the confidence of the conspirators.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The same Commonwealth's attorney who had prosecuted Asa Gregory had gone +to his own house for dinner, and now he sat before his library fire in +slippers and faded smoking jacket. On the floor near him lay an +afternoon paper, but the day's chief news he had garnered more directly +by personal contact. Over there in the Assembly was being waged a battle +which interested him deeply. So inured had he become to high tides of +political struggle that it did not occur to him to reflect upon the +frequency with which, in his native State, bitter campaign followed upon +bitter campaign. A Democrat and a Republican were at grips for the +United States senatorship. Each of them had been a governor of Kentucky +and the legislature, where senators were still made, hung in grimly +unyielding deadlock. All that afternoon until its adjournment the lawyer +had sat in the visitors' gallery of the house or laboured in the lobby. +Now he sought brief relaxation after his own fashion. He sat upright in +his armchair with a clarionet pressed to his lips and his cheeks +ballooned, playing "Trouble in the Land."</p> + +<p>The soloist at length took the instrument from his pursed lips and wiped +the mouthpiece with his handkerchief, and as he did so the negro man who +was both bodyservant and butler opened the door of the room.</p> + +<p>"Thar's a gentleman done come ter see you, sah. He 'pears mighty urgent +in his mind an' he wouldn't give me no name."</p> + +<p>The officer, bethinking himself of political satellites who sometimes +make a virtue of mystery, smiled as he directed: "Bring him in here, +Tom. It's cold in the parlour."</p> + +<p>Into the library came Boone, and stood silent until the negro had closed +the door upon his exit; then he nodded curtly. There was an air of +suppressed wildness in his eyes and a pallour under the bronze of his +cheeks, upon which the attorney, as he offered a chair, made no comment.</p> + +<p>"I'm here," announced the visitor with a brusque pointedness, "to give +you information upon which it is your duty to act."</p> + +<p>There was an unintended rasp of challenge in the manner, and under it +the official's lips compressed themselves. Boone in his overwrought +state felt that he must make haste, while he yet held himself in hand, +and the attorney, believing his visitor to be ill, curbed his own +temper.</p> + +<p>"Let's have the information," he suggested. "Then I'll be in a better +position to construe my own duty."</p> + +<p>"Presumably you wish to punish all those guilty of the conspiracy that +ended in Senator Goebel's death," went on the mountain man in a hard +voice. "I say presumably, because the Commonwealth has heretofore +appeared to discriminate among the accused."</p> + +<p>The attorney bridled. "As to Governor Goebel's death," he asserted +heatedly, and in the very employment of the widely different titles the +two men proclaimed their antithesis of political creed and opinion, "my +record speaks for itself. My sincerity needs no defence."</p> + +<p>"That you can prove. Saul Fulton is under indictment in your court. He +forfeited his bond and went to South America with or without your +knowledge. He has come back, and I am prepared to direct your deputy +sheriff to his hiding place. If he got away without your knowledge you +ought to be glad to have this news. If you winked at his going, I mean +to put you on record."</p> + +<p>Boone Wellver had not seated himself. He still stood, with a stony face +out of which the eyes burned unnaturally, and the Commonwealth's +attorney took a step forward, his own cheeks grown livid with anger, so +that the two men stood close and eye-to-eye.</p> + +<p>"In this fashion I permit no man to address me," said the prosecutor, +with his voice hard-schooled to evenness. "You have come to my house to +insult me, and I order you to leave it."</p> + +<p>For a moment Boone remained motionless. Between him and the man across +from him swam spots of red; then words came with a coldly affronting yet +quiet ferocity:</p> + +<p>"I am not surprised, but I've done what decency demanded. I ... gave you +your chance ... and you repudiated it ... like the charlatan you are. +This man shall die ... but it was your duty and your right ... to know +first."</p> + +<p>He turned on his heel and opened the door, and the man in the smoking +jacket gazed after him in amazement. Evidently, the truculent visitor +was not himself, and there was no virtue in quarrelling with a temporary +madman. Boone knew only that he had invoked the law and the law had +rebuffed him. He could not see that his reception, however just his +mission, was inevitable since he had invited it with insult.</p> + +<p>Back at his room he found another guest awaiting him. It was Joe +Gregory, who had also come from the hills. Boone had reached that point +at which surprise ends, and to this man, who was a kinsman and a deputy +sheriff in Marlin County, he gave as cursory a greeting as though he had +come only from the next street.</p> + +<p>But Joe's grave face, in which character and sense spoke from every +strongly drawn lineament, was disturbed, and he went without preamble to +his point. Down there in the hills trouble was brewing, and among both +Gregories and Carrs a restive feeling stirred. Fellows walked with chips +on their shoulders as though each side were seeking to invite from the +other some overt act of truce-breaking. Joe had sought to analyze the +causes of this seemingly chance rebirth of long-quiet animosities. He +had learned of Saul's return, but Saul was lying low and most men did +not know of his presence. It must be, then, that from his hiding place +that intriguer was inciting a spirit of truculence in the Carrs to which +the Gregories were automatically responding. If that went on it meant +the breaking out of the "war" afresh—and a renewal of bloodshed. The +bearer of tidings ended his narrative with an appeal based on strong +trust.</p> + +<p>"Boone, thar's jest one man kin quiet our boys down and stop 'em short +of mortal mischief, I reckon. They all trusts <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"Will they all follow me?"</p> + +<p>"Straight inter hell, they will!"</p> + +<p>"And yet you think"—Boone looked full into the direct eyes of the other +with a glint of challenge in his own—"yet you think I ought to quiet +them instead of leading them?"</p> + +<p>"Leading them which way, Boone? Whatever ther rest aims at, you an' me, +we stan's fer law and peace, don't we? That's what you've always drilled +into me, like gospel."</p> + +<p>To his astonishment Joe had, for answer, a mirthless, almost derisive, +laugh—a laugh that was barked.</p> + +<p>"So far we've stood for that, and what have we gained?" Boone's mood, +which had been all day seething like the imprisoned fire-flood of a +volcano, burst now in lava-flow through the ruptured crater of +repression. "Asa abided by the law seven years and more ago—didn't he? +Well, he's rotted in a cell ever since! Saul Fulton played with the law +and the law played with him and paid him Judas money and made him rich! +You say they'll follow me. Then, before God in heaven, I'll lead them to +a cleansing by fire! When we finish the job, those murderers and +perjurers will be done for once and for all!"</p> + +<p>"And you," the deputy sheriff reminded him soberly, "you'll be plumb +ruint."</p> + +<p>"I'm ruined now."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was not a handsome room in which the two men stood, and Boone had +taken it with a provident eye to its cheapness, but it was in a hotel +stone-built in the times of long ago, and from the days of Henry Clay +and John C. Breckinridge to the time when Goebel died there history had +had birth between those heavy walls.</p> + +<p>In the cheaply furnished bedroom whose paper was faded, the observant +eyes of Joe Gregory had caught one detail that struck his simple +interest, even in the surge of weightier tides.</p> + +<p>A massive silver photograph frame lay face downward on the table as +though it had been inadvertently over-turned.</p> + +<p>Now with a sudden gesture Boone picked it up and held it in his hand a +moment. His eyes centred their blazing scrutiny on it with a fixity +which the ruder mountaineer did not miss. For a moment only Boone held +the frame, out of which looked Anne Masters' face before his gaze; then +he replaced it on the table. He did not stand it up but laid it face +down, and in the moment of that little pantomime and the quality of the +gesture the visitor read something illuminating. He felt with an +instinctive surety that he had seen an idol dethroned, and the +mysterious words, "I'm ruined now," filled out with meaning as a sagging +and formless sail rounds into shape under the livening breath of wind.</p> + +<p>He, too, had in those few moments seen an idol at least totter on its +pedestal. He had been a hill boy famishing for advancement, and before +his eyes Boone Wellver, distantly his relative, had been an exemplar. +Now Boone was in some unaccountable vortex and talking wildly of +inciting men who needed to be calmed. Into Joe Gregory's mind flashed an +instinct of resentment against Anne Masters, whom he had often seen +there in the hills. In some fashion, he divined, she was to blame for +this situation.</p> + +<p>The representative wheeled and left his bewildered visitor standing in +the room alone. Below in the basement bar of the hotel a noisily +laughing crowd jostled at the counter, and the white-aproned Ganymedes +were busy. From the door Boone Wellver cast smouldering eyes about the +place, searching for a certain partisan Democrat.</p> + +<p>Yonder, talking in loud voice, stood a colleague from a neighbouring +mountain district. He was nursing, in fingers more used to the +gourd-dipper, the stem of a cocktail glass, and his cheap wit, couched +in an affected drawl and garbed with exaggerated colloquialisms, was +being acclaimed with encouraging mirth. The fellow fancied himself a +<i>raconteur</i>, appreciated. In reality he was a sorry clown being baited.</p> + +<p>At another time that sight, trivial in itself, would have steadied Boone +with a realization of his own self-duty to represent another type of +mountain man. Now he was past such realization.</p> + +<p>He found the man of whom he had come in search and drew him hastily +aside.</p> + +<p>"You said this afternoon you wanted to get away from Frankfort for a +week."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, Wellver, I've got a sick child at home; but this deadlock's +got me tied up. A man must stick to his colours."</p> + +<p>Boone nodded. "You can go," he said briefly. "I've come to pair with +you. I've got to go home, too. Do you agree not to vote in the house for +one week's time?"</p> + +<p>The opponent extended his hand. "It's a go, and thank you. Let's have a +drink on it." But Boone had already turned. He was hastening up the +stairs, and five minutes later found him throwing things into a bag.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said in a savage voice to Joe Gregory who still waited, "let's +get away from here. There's going to be a snake killing in Marlin."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> + + +<p>Left alone in Wellver's bedroom, Joe Gregory had been thrown back on the +companionship of his own thoughts, and they told him that a tide and a +wind were mounting which, unless they could he swiftly stemmed, would +leave a trail of wreckage along the heights and valleys of Marlin, like +drift in the wake of a spring flood-tide; but this would be human +wreckage.</p> + +<p>None of Boone's adherents at home had supported his program of progress +more whole-heartedly than young Joe Gregory, and the infamous perfidy of +Saul Fulton was a hateful thing to him, burning in his heart with need +of reprisal, for Asa was his "blood-relation."</p> + +<p>But as things had shaped themselves, Saul Fulton no longer stood alone, +and so long as he was sheltered under the wing of Tom Carr, no blow +could be struck him without reopening the "war." Joe knew what that +meant. The hills again would redden; again men would ride in fear of +death, and that fear would verify itself in murders; as Joe had put it, +in "mortal mischief." The whole archaic damnation would rear its head +over the new-taught security of peace. The sum of effort toward a +stabilized order which men like Boone and himself had built tediously +upon patience, would go the collapsing way of land behind a broken dyke.</p> + +<p>If a human being lived who could stay that catastrophe it was Boone, so +to Boone he had come and found the single available mediator hot-blooded +for violence.</p> + +<p>Now he shuddered. If Boone Wellver had the power to dissuade those +tempestuous clansmen and hold them in abeyance, how much more easily and +mightily could he spur them forward! If he, the apostle of peace, +breathed the one word, "war," they would be the wild-eyed followers of +a Geronimo cast loose on the blood trail.</p> + +<p>And Boone's own future, the deputy sheriff mournfully reflected, when +this storm was past would be a bright bubble pin-pricked and ended. The +man whom local pride proclaimed a statesman to be reckoned with would +stand a relapsed son of the vendetta with blood-soiled hands and an +inconsistency-smirched record. Even the men whom he could so easily +inflame now would, in the end, turn on him, and his career would be as +brief as it was floridly picturesque.</p> + +<p>They followed feud leaders—but they did not send them to Washington!</p> + +<p>Yet Joe was of that blood, too, and could understand Boone's +reversion—a reversion willing in a moment to cast aside the armour +which he had served his term of years for the right to wear. The thing +now was to bring him back in time out of the crimson fog that blinded +him. Joe's eyes dwelt absently on the over-turned frame as he stood +there thinking, and the articles on the table were photographed on his +gaze with a pictorial accuracy of detail, yet because of his +abstraction, without meaning of their own.</p> + +<p>So mechanically and without at first realizing what he was doing, he +read two outspread sheets of paper: Anne's note and McCalloway's +telegram. Then abruptly the messages became an integral part of his +thought.</p> + +<p>Anne Masters, whom Boone loved, was going to marry another man—there +was the key to Boone's wild mood, and Victor McCalloway, his friend, had +gone away!</p> + +<p>If it was Anne who had led Boone to the brink of this peril, it was her +duty to lead him back. So ran his elementally simple logic.</p> + +<p>"Ef she's decent," declared Joe Gregory tensely to himself, "she kain't +skeercely do no less."</p> + +<p>So after Boone had returned and begun packing his bag, Joe made a +plausible excuse and went out to seek a telephone pay-station. Over the +long distance he got Colonel Wallifarro's house, with the amused +assistance of an operator who saw only his rustic gaucherie, and who +missed entirely the simple, almost biblical, dignity of his bearing.</p> + +<p>"Miss Anne? No, sir, she isn't here," replied Moses, the negro butler, +and, while Joe's heart sank, that admirable majordomo, recognizing the +long-distance call, secured a connection for the speaker with the +Country Club.</p> + +<p>While the wire buzzed distractingly, Joe Gregory stood in the closed +booth and perspired. Outside he watched a travelling salesman who, with +a chewed cigar between stout fingers, bent over the switchboard and +chatted with the blonde operator. Then finally he heard a voice at the +far end. It was a somewhat frightened and faint voice, but even in his +anger he admitted that it held a sweet and gentle cadence.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the girl half hoped that this ring which called her from guests +to whom her engagement was being announced carried a twentieth-century +equivalent for the appearance of Lochinvar. Perhaps she only feared bad +news. At all events, she spoke low.</p> + +<p>"Miss Masters, I'm Joe Gregory," announced an unfamiliar voice which +held across the wire a straightforward and determined significance. The +name, too, carried its effect, for Anne knew of this man as Boone's most +stalwart disciple. "The thing I've got ter tell ye hain't skeercely +suited ter speech over a telephone, an' yet thar hain't no other way. +Hit's about him, an' he's in ther direst peril a man kin stand in. +Thar's just one human soul thet hes a chanst ter save him—an' thet's +you."</p> + +<p>Sometimes the long-distance wire hums with confusion. Sometimes it +enhances and clarifies the ghost of a whisper. Now Joe Gregory heard a +choking breath, and for an instant there was no other sound; the man, +catching the import of the gasping agitation, went on talking to its +speechlessness. It was if between them "he" could mean only one man.</p> + +<p>"He hain't skeercely in his rightful senses, or I wouldn't hev no need +ter call on ye. He's goin' back ter—well, back home tonight. I kain't +handily tell ye what ther peril is, but ef I was ter say thet two days +hence he'll be past savin'—an' others along with him—I'd only be +talkin' text ter ye."</p> + +<p>"But how"—there was desperation of panic in the question—"how could +I—save him?"</p> + +<p>"He needs savin' from hisself, ma'am. Thar's a train of cars leavin' +Looeyville nigh on midnight. Ef ye teks hit I'll meet ye at ther station +when ye gets <i>thar</i> in ther mornin'. Him an' me is leavin' on one thet +starts from hyar an hour from now. Thet's all I kin say afore I sees +ye—save thet matters are plumb desperate."</p> + +<p>"But I can't—I don't see how—"</p> + +<p>Anne had never quite realized such a quietly unbending sternness as that +of the voice which interrupted her:</p> + +<p>"Ef ye don't aim ter stand by an' see his ruin, ye needs must <i>find</i> a +way. Jest <i>come</i>, thet's all—an' come alone. No other way won't do. +I'll be at ther deppo."</p> + +<p>And the receiver clicked with a finality that brooked no argument, +leaving the girl leaning unsteadily against the wall of the booth. She +opened the heavy door a little but did not go out. From the dining-room +came a sally of laughing voices, and from the dancing floor haunting +scraps of the "Merry Widow" waltz. A clock across the passage ticked +above these sounds, and on its dial the hands stood at eight forty-five.</p> + +<p>Upon her ears these impressions fell with a sense of remoteness and +lightness as if they could be thrust away, but more oppressive and close +was the unnamed something brooding in the hills two hundred miles—yes, +and two centuries—away.</p> + +<p>She knew that she stood at one of those unequivocal moments that cannot +be met with life's ordered deliberation. By tomorrow things might be +done which could never be undone. An hour hence, decision would be the +harder for newly recognized difficulties. The penalty of faltering +might be a life of self-accusation for herself—for Boone a tragedy.</p> + +<p>She had assured herself with passionate reiteration that Boone was a +character in a chapter torn out of her life, but the heartache remained +in stubborn mutiny against that ordaining. It had been first gnawingly, +then fiercely, present while she laughed and talked at the table with an +effervescence no more natural than that pumped into artificially charged +wine, and she had needed no death's-head to sober her against too +abandoned a gaiety at that feast. Joe Gregory's words had, for all their +want of explicitness, been inescapably definite. They meant ruin—no +less—unless she intervened and came at once.</p> + +<p>To go meant to stir tempests in teapots—to defy conventions, and +perhaps by a vapidly rigid interpretation, to compromise herself. To +refuse to go meant to abandon Boone to some undescribed, and therefore +doubly terrifying, disaster.</p> + +<p>Anne Masters was not the woman to shrink from crises or from the +determined action for which crises called. Almost at once she knew that +she was going by the midnight train to the hills, and let the problems +that sprung from her going await a later solution. But how?</p> + +<p>Going unaccompanied from a country-club dinner party to desperate +affairs brewing in the Cumberlands presented difficulties too tangible +to be dismissed. To confide in Colonel Tom or Morgan would mean only +that they would insist upon accompanying her. To confide in her mother +would mean burning up precious moments in hysteria. The one unobstructed +alternative appeared to be the unwelcome one of flight without +announcement.</p> + +<p>But back to the table she carried little outward agitation. If her heart +pounded it was with a sort of exaltation born of impending moments of +action. If her face had paled it gave a logical basis for the plea of +violent headache upon which she persuaded Morgan to drive her home as +soon as the guests rose, and to make the necessary explanations only +after she had gone.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Masters returned she found a note entreating her not to give +way to undue anxiety. Anne was gone, and the hurriedly written lines +said she would telegraph tomorrow from her father's house, but that it +was not illness which had called her there.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In such a situation, provided one approach it in the mood of Alexander +toward the Gordian knot, the greater complexities appear in retrospect.</p> + +<p>It was looking back on those pregnant hours that their various +enormities were made plain to her, chiefly through the expounding of +<i>ex-post-facto</i> wisdom operating cold-bloodedly and without the urge of +a peril to be met.</p> + +<p>With much the same acceptance of the bizarre as that which marks the +fantasy of dreams, she endured the discomforts of that night's journey +and found herself at daybreak looking into gravely welcoming eyes on the +station at Marlin Town.</p> + +<p>Her own eyes felt sunken and hot with fatigue, but to Joe Gregory, who +had also spent a sleepless night, she seemed a picture of the fresh and +dauntless.</p> + +<p>They went first to her father's bungalow, and there a new difficulty +presented itself. Larry Masters had gone away to some adjacent town and +had left his house tight locked.</p> + +<p>"Boone's on the move today," Joe Gregory informed her, "but matters'll +come to a head ternight. Twell then things won't hardly bust, but when +ther time comes, whatever ye kin do hes need ter be done swiftly. When I +talked with ye last night I misdoubted we'd hev even this much time ter +go on."</p> + +<p>Then as they sat on the doorstep of the closed house, which no longer +afforded her the conventional sanction of paternal presence, the deputy +sheriff outlined for her with admirable directness and vigour the +situation which had driven him to her for help. To clear away all +mystification he sketched baldly the little episode of the down-turned +photograph and the bitterness of the three words, "I'm ruined now."</p> + +<p>"Thet's how come me ter know," he enlightened simply, "thet Boone war +sort of crazed-like—an' thet <i>you</i> mout cure him, ef so be ye <i>would</i>." +Then with a sterner note he added: "Whatever took place betwixt ther two +of ye air yore own business, but thar's some of us thet would go down +inter hell ter save Boone Wellver. I needed ye, an', despite yer bein' a +woman, ef ye're a man in any sense at all, ye'll stand by me right now."</p> + +<p>Anne rose from the doorstep where she had been dejectedly sitting and +held out a hand.</p> + +<p>"You see, I came," she said briefly; "and I aim to be man enough to do +my best."</p> + +<p>From the door of the wretched hotel as the morning grew to noon, she +watched the streets, and it seemed to her that, quite aside from the +usual gloom of the winter's day and the scowl of the heavy sky, there +was a new and intangible spirit of foreboding upon the town. That, she +argued, could be only the creative force of imagination.</p> + +<p>She wished for Joe Gregory, but among many busy people that day he was +the busiest, and it was not until near sunset that he came for her, +leading a saddled horse. Riding along the steep and twisting ways, a +sense of sinister forces oppressed her.</p> + +<p>It seemed to her that the dirge through the brown-gray forests and the +shriek of blasts along the gorges were blended into an untamable litany. +"We are the ancient hills that stand unaltered! We and our sons refuse +to pass under the rod. Wild is our breath and fierce our heritage. Let +the plains be tamed and the valleys serve! Here we uphold the law of the +lawless, the nihilism of ragged freedom!"</p> + +<p>Once Joe halted her with a raised band. "Stay hyar," he ordered, "twell +I ride on ahead. Folks hain't licensed ter pass hyar terday ontil they +gives ther right signal."</p> + +<p>He went forward a few rods, and had Anne not been watching his lips she +would have sworn that it was only the caw of a crow she heard; but soon +from a cliff overhead and then from a thicket at the left came the +response of other cawing. Then with a nod to her to follow, her guide +flapped his reins on the neck of his mule, and again they moved forward.</p> + +<p>It was dark when they came to the road that passed in front of Victor +McCalloway's house, and there Joe drew rein.</p> + +<p>"I've still got some sev'ral things ter see to," he informed the girl, +"so I won't stop hyar now. Boone's inside thar, an' like as not hit'll +be better fer ther two of ye ter talk by yoreselves. I'll give ther call +afore I rides on, so thet ther door'll open for ye. Hit hain't openin' +ter everybody ternight."</p> + +<p>Then for the first time Anne faltered.</p> + +<p>"Must I go in there—alone?" she demanded, and Gregory looked swiftly +up.</p> + +<p>"Ye hain't affrighted of him, be ye? Thar hain't no need ter be."</p> + +<p>Anne stiffened, then laughed nervously. "No," she said, "I'll go in."</p> + +<p>The deputy sitting sidewise in his saddle, watched her dismount, and +when she reached the doorstep he sung out: "Boone, hit's Joe Gregory +talkin'. Open up!"</p> + +<p>Anne's knees were none too steady, nor was her breath quite even as the +door swung outward and Boone stood against its rectangle of light +peering out with eyes unaccommodated to the dark. He was flannel shirted +and corduroy breeched, and since yesterday he had not shaved. But his +face, drawn and strained as he looked out, not seeing her because he was +studying the stile from which the voice had come, was the face of one +who has been in purgatory and who has not yet seen the light of release.</p> + +<p>"Boone," said the girl softly, and he started back with astonishment for +the unaccountable. Then as his gaze swung incredulously upon her, still +wraith-like beyond the shaft of the door's outpouring, he moved to the +side, and she stepped into the room.</p> + +<p>"But you're in Louisville," he declared in the low voice of one whose +reason resents the trickery of apparitions, and his pupils burned with +an abnormal brightness. "You're announcing your engagement."</p> + +<p>"Not tonight," she reminded him; and then his brain, like his eyes, +having readapted its perception to reality, he slowly nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"No. That was—<i>last</i> night," he answered, with a bitter change of tone. +"I'd forgotten.... Things are moving so rapidly, you see."</p> + +<p>"I came," she said, with direct gravity, "because some one told me that +you were in danger—of wrecking your life. I came to speak ... for the +thought in time."</p> + +<p>While her eyes held his, he returned her gaze with a steady +inscrutability, and the two stood there with a long silence between +them.</p> + +<p>Then the man announced in a dead tone:</p> + +<p>"It's too late. Come here!"</p> + +<p>He led the way to the bedroom door and threw it open with an emotionless +gesture. The girl flinched as she looked in and succeeded in stifling a +scream only by bringing both her hands swiftly to her lips. But Boone +took a step over to the cot where Victor McCalloway had slept and lifted +the sheet from something that lay there.</p> + +<p>"That's 'Little' Jim Bartleton—or was," he added slowly. "I folded his +hands there on his breast such a little while ago that they're hardly +cold yet." He paused a moment; then the flat quality went out of his +bearing and his voice, though no louder than before, became transformed. +It held the throbbing intensity of distant drums beating for action and +battle.</p> + +<p>"He was trying to serve me by watching the enemies that plotted my +murder. He was riding my horse—and was mistaken for me. You see, you +come too late."</p> + +<p>"But, Boone—when—did this—?"</p> + +<p>"About an hour ago," the man interrupted her. "He fell just about where +you dismounted, drilled through by a bullet hired by Saul Fulton and Tom +Carr. I found him there—and brought him in."</p> + +<p>"Do—do his people know?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. Only you and I know it—yet." Again the voice leaped +tumultuously: "But soon his people are coming here—his people and mine. +They are coming for my counsel, and, by God, it's ready for them!"</p> + +<p>"And you'll tell them?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell them that I've come back from following after new gods. I'll +tell them that the blood of my forefathers hasn't grown cold in me, and +that if they follow me, tonight they will see 'Little' Jim avenged." He +paused an instant before adding passionately, "Not by a single man or a +couple, but with as many filthy lives as it takes to balance one decent +life."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> + + +<p>As Anne Masters stood in the narrow doorway of the room where lay the +dead body of "Little" Jim Bartleton, she seemed to lose her hold on +modernity and to stand a hostage to the forces and emotions of the +mediaeval.</p> + +<p>The fire rose and fell and flickered. It snapped and sighed, roared and +whispered, and with it the shadow of the sheeted figure and silhouette +of the uncovered face grew and lessened in grotesque fluctuation.</p> + +<p>Before she could begin her struggle with the man whose face wore little +promise of conversion, she must conquer the struggle in herself, for +suddenly she had need to defend her own feelings against the currents of +thought that swayed him, and the rôle of righteous avenger no longer +seemed so indefensible.</p> + +<p>"Boone," she said, with an effort at convincing steadiness, yet feeling +weak of will beside the set determination of his bearing, "I've come a +long way to talk with you. Will you listen?"</p> + +<p>His bow was that of compulsory assent, but his eyes showed defiant +through their enforced courtesy.</p> + +<p>"I'm listening," he said, "though when I asked you to listen, and +everything we'd planned our lives for depended on your hearing me, you +refused. Yet that was different, I suppose. After all, I'm only partly +educated in the ways of polite society. I haven't learned to be casual +in such things."</p> + +<p>"If you're a barbarian now," she told him quietly, "it's from pure +choice. Gentlemen have taught you their code. You've been a gentleman +yourself."</p> + +<p>Boone laughed.</p> + +<p>"Cleopatra, I believe, had pet leopards that were allowed to purr on the +steps of her throne. But they were only a part of the picture and they +didn't quite become gentlemen. You let me be a pet leopard, too—for a +while. Now I've gone back to the jungle."</p> + +<p>She ignored the reference to herself. That way lay endless dispute, and +this battle to avert feudal tragedies, she thought, was not a thing to +be fought on a field of personalities. She spoke slowly and with a +dignity that made his cheeks redden to the realization of his own bitter +facetiousness. "I came," she said, "only to bring a warning—while there +was time."</p> + +<p>"Warning of what?" The question was ominously quiet.</p> + +<p>"Against confusing black hallucinations with all the saner, bigger +things that you know. Warning against betraying a confidence you have +won by stampeding people who believe in you and follow you blindly."</p> + +<p>The eyes of Boone Wellver narrowed and hardened defensively under this +arraignment from lips that had once shaped for him softer responses. +Then as they fell again upon the man who had died in his cause, a +baleful light reawoke in them. From that spokesman came a silent +argument which needed no voice: "Here I am, not a theory but a fact. I +died for you!"</p> + +<p>He spoke to her as one who makes an explanation, not of obligation but +as a concession to the motives which had brought her.</p> + +<p>"Before I usurped the functions of the law I appealed to the law. +Blackstone says that before a man takes human life—even in defence of +his own—he must 'retreat to the ditch or wall'! I obeyed that mandate, +and the law refused me. Saul Fulton came back ten thousand miles to have +me murdered, and by accident an innocent man died in my stead. Then, and +then only, I assumed a man's prerogative to do for himself and his +people what courts of injustice decline to do for him." He paused then, +and the ferocity of his thoughts brought an ironical smile to his tight +lips.</p> + +<p>"You <i>have</i> come a long way. One can only appreciate what rampant +difficulties stood in your path by considering how sacred and unbending +are the artificial little laws of your world. It was a bold thing and a +kindly thing for you to do, but the text that you preach is—you must +pardon the candour of saying it—a sermon of platitudes. They have lost +their virtue with me—because, tonight, I'm looking straight into facts +and thinking naked thoughts."</p> + +<p>"Just what are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Do?" He echoed the word tempestuously. "I'm going to call on Tom Carr +to deliver Saul Fulton over to me and my mob. I suppose you'd call them +that. Saul is going to die, and Tom is going into exile. I reckon first, +though, there'll be a sort of a battle. The Carrs are a headstrong +crew."</p> + +<p>He turned on his heel with the air of a man who has surrendered to the +demands of politeness moments that can be ill spared from a more +pressing urgency, and walked around the cot to lift from the floor +behind it a heavy box of rifle cartridges. But when he had straightened +up and his eyes again met hers, the sight of her and the sound of her +voice brought overpoweringly upon him a surge of that feeling which he +had been trying to repress.</p> + +<p>They had met thus far as two duellists may meet, each testing the blade +of his will and studying the eye of the adversary where may be read the +coming thrust in advance of its attempted delivery.</p> + +<p>Consciously Anne had admitted that wariness and determination. Boone had +chosen to regard her merely as the woman he had once worshipped, who, +after failing of loyalty, was making a theatric effort in his behalf, +inspired by a sentimental memory of a dead love.</p> + +<p>Now he recognized with a disturbing certainty that to try to think of +her in any past tense of love was worse than hypocritical. He knew that +to him she had never seemed more incredibly beautiful than at this +moment when she stood there in the rough corduroy riding clothes in +which she had crossed the hills. Those eyes, with the amazing inner +lights, were to him dazzling and unsteadying.</p> + +<p>"What you have just told me is what you meant to do," she declared, with +the sort of calm assurance that can speak without faltering or misgiving +against the howl of the furies, "but you aren't going to do it. You +<i>couldn't</i> do it, except in a moment of delirium—"</p> + +<p>Boone's chest heaved with a spasm of agitation that made his breath a +struggle. Until tonight he had not seen her since they had separated in +Colonel Wallifarro's library in Louisville. The world had been desolate. +Now she seemed to fill it with Tantalus allurement, and they stood in a +battle of wills with a dead man lying between them—and the dead man had +been murdered for him.</p> + +<p>"Why do you care," he demanded, with a fierce outburst of hungry +emotion, "what I do? What are the lives of these human snakes to you?"</p> + +<p>Anne's chin came up a little.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she declared crisply. "Perhaps death is too good for them; +but murder's not good enough for you!"</p> + +<p>He leaned forward toward her with an avid eagerness in his eyes, and +abruptly his voice shook as he stubbornly repeated his question:</p> + +<p>"I was asking you why—so far as I'm concerned—you care?"</p> + +<p>The curt interrogation, with the throb of the restraint in the voice +that put it, brought to Anne that same feeling of exaltation that had +come when he had seized her so vehemently in his arms in the bluegrass +garden on a June morning. Even now she could sway him if only she let a +touch of the responsiveness that clamoured in her find expression, but +she had come in answer to a more austere summons. Between them as lovers +who had irreparably quarrelled matters stood unchanged, and she was not +here to fight emotion with emotion. She had come to draw him back, if +she could, from the edge of disaster. Incidentally—for to her just then +it seemed quite incidental—she was engaged to marry Morgan Wallifarro.</p> + +<p>"I care," she said, rather weakly and conscious of the ring of platitude +in her words, "because of the past—because we are—old friends."</p> + +<p>Boone's face darkened again into clouded disappointment; then he looked +down, jerking his head toward the cot, and demanded shortly:</p> + +<p>"All right. I was a fool, of course, but how about him?"</p> + +<p>"Will he sleep easier because you prove a deserter to the cause to which +you swore allegiance?" There was a touch of scorn in her voice now. +"Does his rest depend on your punishing one murder with another?"</p> + +<p>"We're talking two languages," he retorted, and the upflaring of his +lover's hope had left him, in its quenching, inflexible. "Our standards +are as far apart as the Koran and the Bible."</p> + +<p>"Neither of them exalts the coward," came her swift response. "Any +agitator could lash the Gregories into mob-violence tonight. Only one +man might have the courage—and the strength—to hold them in leash."</p> + +<p>Boone set down the heavy box and came out into the room where the fire +burned. He seemed, in his white-hot anger, too distrustful of himself +for speech, and, perhaps because he loved her so unconquerably and +despairingly, his fury against her was the greater.</p> + +<p>"Before Almighty God," he declared, in a voice low and quaking with +passion, "I think I can understand how some men kill the women they +love! Call me a barbarian if you like. I am one. Call me a renegade from +your self-complacent culture. I welcome the impeachment, but don't call +me a coward, because that's a lie."</p> + +<p>He broke off; then burst out again in a mounting voice:</p> + +<p>"Until a little while ago I might have yielded to everything you asked, +because the fear of offending you was a mightier thing to me than +everything else combined. But that was the infirmity of a man weakened +by love—not strengthened. I've regained my strength now, and I mean to +keep it. Hate is a stronger god than love!"</p> + +<p>Remaining stiff-postured on the hearth, Boone rained upon her the wrath +that cumulative incitements had kindled and fed to something like mania, +and she met it with challenge for challenge and with eyes whose fires +were clearer than those of his own.</p> + +<p>"You say you've regained your strength. Is that why you're afraid to +listen to me? Is that why you don't dare undergo my test?"</p> + +<p>"Afraid to listen?" In spite of his fury he put his question with a +courteous gravity that was disconcerting. "Haven't I been listening? Am +I not still listening?"</p> + +<p>But Anne was not to be deflected, and her clear-noted voice still rang +with the authority of conviction:</p> + +<p>"You talk of holding your hand until you had 'retreated to the ditch or +wall,' or whatever your legal phrase was, yet you know that you don't +dare give your anger time to cool. You don't dare hold these men, who +are crying out for blood, quiet for twenty-four hours and spend that +time alone with your own conscience."</p> + +<p>"And yet," he ventured to remind her, "I left Frankfort last night. +Before I started I reached my decision. There have been already more +than twenty-four hours, but they haven't cooled me except to make my +certainty greater."</p> + +<p>"This boy whose face you just showed me brought word to Frankfort that +Saul Fulton was back to have you murdered," went on the girl with +unshaken steadiness. "The old instinct for vengeance swept you into +passion, but you didn't surrender to it then. You went to the +prosecutor. Why?"</p> + +<p>"I've already told you. I tried the law first."</p> + +<p>"Because yesterday you realized that this lawless way was the wrong way. +Your rebuff there maddened you still more. You came back, and when you +got here you were in doubt again. Isn't that true?"</p> + +<p>"Not for long," he replied shortly.</p> + +<p>"Yet you <i>were</i> in doubt. Then you listened to the hot heads, and the +fever rose again in your veins. Tonight this boy was killed. One after +the other these things happened to work you up to a sort of frenzy and +keep you there. I've heard you tell how murder lords here used to hire +assassins and how they had to keep them keyed up with whiskey till the +work was done. Don't you see that you've been drinking a more dangerous +whiskey, and that you don't dare to let this vengeance wait, because you +know if you did, you couldn't face your own self-contempt?"</p> + +<p>At first there had been despair in her heart because the face of the man +she thought she knew had been the face of a stranger, as unamenable to +change as that of the sphinx. But now she knew that if she could only +make him see in time what she had seen, she might succeed. He was a +sleep-walker, and to the sleep-walker only the dream is real—yet he had +only to be waked to step again into sanity. The steel had been too +gradually forged, tempered and tested to become pig iron again in a +breath, simply because it dreamed itself pig iron.</p> + +<p>"You talk of your strength, and I call on you to test it. I call on you +to do not what any persuasive agitator could do, but what only you can +do—to keep the wild-beast impulses in your own men caged for one more +day—and to spend that day with your own conscience."</p> + +<p>"You ask me first to forget that you are anything more to me than an old +friend. Then you ask me to obey your whim in doing what is next to +impossible," he summarized in a coldly ironical voice. "You are setting +me very easy tasks tonight!"</p> + +<p>"Any one can do the easy things." The contempt in her clear tone was not +for him. It was not accusing, but it seemed to wither the men of lesser +strength and subtly to pay him tribute by its indirection, and then +abruptly she played her strongest card: "Victor McCalloway, your +teacher, didn't school you to seek the easy way."</p> + +<p>Once more the anger darted in his eyes, but he flinched at the name as +though under a lash.</p> + +<p>"Why need we bring Mr. McCalloway into this discussion?" he indignantly +demanded. "Perhaps I understand him better than you. Mr. McCalloway is +no apostle of tame submission."</p> + +<p>Anne caught the tempestuous note of protest, and she caught, as well, +the meaning that actuated it; Boone's self-denied unwillingness to +confront the accusing thought of his hero. That name she had studiously +refrained from mentioning until now.</p> + +<p>"And yet you know that what I am saying might come from his own lips. +You know that if he were here and you left this house tonight to lead a +mob of incendiaries and gunmen over the ridge you couldn't go with his +blessing or his handshake. You know that you'd have to leave behind you +a man whose respect you'd forfeited and whose heart you'd broken."</p> + +<p>She stopped, and the voice that came to her was strained as it +questioned: "Is that all you've got to say?"</p> + +<p>Anne shook her head. "No," she told him, "there's one thing more—a +request. Please don't answer me for five minutes."</p> + +<p>Boone Wellver jerked his head with a gesture that might have been either +acquiescence or refusal. But from his pocket he drew a watch and stood +holding it in his hand. The tight-drawn muscles of his face made it a +painful thing to watch, and after a little while he turned from her and +she could see only his back—with shoulders that twitched a little from +time to time under the spasmodic assault of some torturing thought. She +was glad that she could not see his eyes. Had there been any place of +retreat, save that room where death lay, she would have fled, because +when a man stands in his place of Gethsemane he should be alone.</p> + +<p>But before Boone's mental vision, a vision from which a bloody and +darkening veil seemed to be drawing slowly aside, were passing pictures +out of his memory. He saw grave eyes, clouded with the embarrassment of +talking self, as the tall figure of Victor McCalloway stood in the woods +admitting that he had refused a commission in China, because a mountain +boy might need him in his fight against an inherited wormwood of +bitterness. He saw himself now an apostate to a faith he had embraced; a +doctrine he had both learned and taught. Boone Wellver was waking out of +an ugly trance, but he was not waking without struggle, not without +counter waves that threatened to engulf him again, not without the sweat +of agony.</p> + +<p>The crystal into which he gazed cleared and clouded; clouded and +cleared. He could not yet be sure of himself. While he stood with that +stress upon him still in molten indecision, he was not quite sure +whether he heard the girl's voice, or whether it came to him from memory +of other days, as it had sounded under dogwood blossoming on the crest +of Slag-face:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Comes now to search your manhood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through all the thankless years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold, edged with dear bought wisdom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The judgment of your peers!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was, however, a real voice though a faint one, that came next to his +ears.</p> + +<p>"You said these wild sheep were your people—that you owed them what you +could give them—of leadership."</p> + +<p>Boone wheeled, and his voice broke from him like a sob, as the watch +slipped from his fingers and fell, shattered.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to go through with it—you and Morgan?"</p> + +<p>But before she could shape a response, his hand came up and he went on +in excited haste: "No, don't answer. You didn't come to answer +questions." Then, with a long intake of breath and an abrupt change to +flint hardness again, he added: "It was I who was to answer you. You are +right. I was a damned quitter. These <i>are</i> my people, and I belong to +them—but not to the feud-war, to myself—nor to you."</p> + +<p>"Boone," began Anne Masters, but she got no further than that, for the +man again raised a warning hand and spoke in a crisp whisper:</p> + +<p>"Hush!" he commanded, and bent, listening.</p> + +<p>In the distance a long whoop was dying away, and then after a moment of +tense silence a cautious whistle sounded from the night outside. Boone +took a step toward the door, and halted.</p> + +<p>"They're coming! It won't do for you to be found here with me alone." He +cast a hurried glance toward the other room, then added; "No—<i>he's</i> in +there. They'll have to see him. Can you wait upstairs?"</p> + +<p>Anne Masters nodded, and as, with a lamp which he handed her, she put +her foot upon the lowest step of the boxed-in stairway, he went on:</p> + +<p>"You've paid me one compliment tonight. You said that I could control +men. As for myself, I doubt that, and if I fail—well, that comes +later."</p> + +<p>From the stairhead she looked down. Boone had gone to the door and stood +with his hand on the latch, yet for the moment he did not lift it. To +her he seemed bracing himself against a fresh assault of heavy forces.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL</h2> + + +<p>With Joe Gregory entered three others, and to Anne, who was walled off +from any sight of what went on, every word and intonation came up the +enclosed stair well as if from a sounding board. She felt like a blind +theatregoer whose ears strain to make amends for the want of eyes while +a tense melodrama is building toward its climax.</p> + +<p>Her imagination filled in the intervals of silence with heart-straining +anxiety, and she felt that she must see the movements, the gestures, the +light and shadow in the sombre eyes, when the wrath of the voices broke +off in ominous quiet. At the thought of the closed door which must soon +be opened to them she shuddered, and she wanted to see Boone; to be able +to assure herself that he was dominating the situation, which, as she +listened, seemed blazing beyond control like a fire that outgrows the +power of its fighters.</p> + +<p>It was difficult to gauge the flow and counterflow of influences in the +scene below stairs. Boone's voice came infrequently as though he, too, +were only a listener, and in the other voices was a unanimity of +violence and hatred. It was a clamour for prompt vengeance unfolding an +iliad of long-fostered animosities.</p> + +<p>To the girl it seemed an intolerable babel—a dissonance of profane fury +and menace—and she could feel her heart pounding like a muffled drum.</p> + +<p>"We've passed out word to the boys and we won't hev need ter delay now +ter git 'em gathered together," came a deep-chested voice at whose +raising the others fell silent. "They're gathered right now in leetle +clumps an' hovers hyar an' thar, whar they kin rally straightway when ye +gives ther signal." The bass fell silent, then supplemented in +reassurance to the leader: "Thar hain't a timorous ner a disable feller +in ther lot."</p> + +<p>"I'm obliged to you, Luther," Boone spoke as one in deep contemplation. +"Then I reckon we're fixed to go over there and take Saul away from the +Carrs, aren't we?"</p> + +<p>Anne Masters pressed her hands agitatedly to her breast as a chorus of +yapping assent gave answer. Had he so soon, under the pressure of their +crowd influence, repudiated his decision to play the hard rôle of +restraint?</p> + +<p>"Maybe, though, boys," the representative's voice continued reflectively +when he had succeeded in quieting them, "we'd better wait for the other +men before we start on any grave errand. I hear some of them out there +now."</p> + +<p>For an hour the talk ran in a hot freshet, while newcomers augmented the +handful, and with the increase of numbers came a fuller-throated +mounting of passion. Would Boone be able to curb their ferocities? Could +any man do it? Did he even mean to try?</p> + +<p>As she listened to the feud disciples coming in from creek beds and cove +pockets, it appeared to her entirely possible that they were capable of +turning on and rending the leader who ventured to cross their strongly +fixed purposes.</p> + +<p>Saul Fulton's treachery to Asa, Tom Carr's giving sanctuary to the +Judas, the affront to the clan; these things made up the inflamed burden +of their growing and deepening wrath, and as yet they had not been told +of the man who lay dead, a victim freshly justifying their hunger for +reprisal!</p> + +<p>Anne missed the voice of Joe Gregory who, after a brief consultation +with Boone, had gone out again. In Joe's presence she would have felt +strong reassurance, but Joe was carrying sorry tidings to the house of +the boy who lay dead.</p> + +<p>Boone knew his people, and he was adroitly playing a most difficult +rôle, but to her ears came no proof of that. Until the clansmen had +opened and aired the festering sores of their grievances there lay in +them no hope of amenability. After that—perhaps—but the issue must +await its moment, neither anticipating nor procrastinating by the part +of a minute.</p> + +<p>At last Boone's glance measured the crowd and recognized that there was +no longer any one for whom to wait. Ahead lay a disclosure, but before +its making he must throw his dice and let circumstances ordain with what +faces upward they would roll.</p> + +<p>He stood before Victor McCalloway's fireplace and raised his hands.</p> + +<p>"Men," he began without haste or excitement, "I've listened to all of +you and I've had little to say. I sat with Asa in the court that tried +him. I've visited him not once but often in the jail where Saul Fulton's +perjury has put him and kept him. I've besieged the Governor to plead +for him, and I yield to no man in loyalty to Asa Gregory. Now I claim +the right to be heard."</p> + +<p>Anne crouched, listening with inheld breath, while the voices below +stairs dwindled from clamour to attention. She tried to visualize the +speaker, but because the whole world had receded from familiarity he, +too, became vague and hard to picture.</p> + +<p>But as Boone talked, she knew that his voice and words and the heart +which was meeting, full-front, an issue he had been in danger of +deserting, were making magic, and along her own scalp went the creep +that is the ultimate test of drama. Inconsequentially she fretted +because she could not see his eyes. His auditors, though, could see the +eyes and respond to their hypnotic fires—respond though the text he +taught was hard to stomach.</p> + +<p>He was winning them against their prejudices, and so skilfully had he +carried them step by step that they were saved from anything like full +realization of self-reversal, which means loss of self-esteem. If for +the hireling shot from the laurel they had no other response than +retaliation in kind, they were only rising to the bait of a lawless and +unimaginative enemy. It was better, he asserted, that the efforts to +murder him succeed than that they should draw the life essence out of +every principle in which his adherents had supported him.</p> + +<p>Anne said to herself that Boone had carried the night, but Boone knew +otherwise.</p> + +<p>A handful of men keyed for violence now accorded him calm attentiveness. +They could even laugh, on occasion, but he was thinking of the closed +door of McCalloway's room. He had need to grapple them to his leadership +more strongly yet, for when he opened that door they would no longer +laugh.</p> + +<p>Now he drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"These things that I am saying to you, I say not only with a full +knowledge of all that you men have told me but with a knowledge of a +harder thing to bear." He paused, and then he told them bluntly:</p> + +<p>"'Little' Jim Bartleton lies dead behind that door. He was killed +tonight when he rode my horse on an errand for me, and was taken for +me."</p> + +<p>After an interval of hushed amazement, the commotion broke afresh, and +Boone again raised his hands and awaited its subsiding.</p> + +<p>"When a man asks his friends to hold their hands, though their hearts +are justly hot, he has need to prove his own steadfastness. Here is my +promise. Tomorrow Joe Gregory as deputy sheriff, and myself are going to +Tom Carr's house. We are going alone in the full light of day and +without any force of armed men to bolster up our demands. If any enemy +seeks our injury he must do that too in the full light of day. In the +name of the law and not of the mob, we will demand that Saul be turned +over to us. We will accept no lies and no evasions. We will take Saul to +Frankfort and present him to the court that refused to send for him. If +they fail, then, it will be time for <i>you</i> to act. Meanwhile you must +wait. I have never before asked any test of your trust in me. Now those +that believe in me must stand with me, and—" his last words were like +the crack of a cattle whip—"and those that don't must fight me."</p> + +<p>With eyes that burned and a breast that pounded, Anne awaited the +reception of that peroration, and for what seemed an endless time there +was no reception at all, except tense silence. The girl closed her eyes +and fancied a pendulum swinging in the dark, and as it registered +seconds her nerves tautened until the impulse to scream became poignant. +Yet she told herself this long silence meant assent—must mean assent.</p> + +<p>Then, with an abruptness that made her start, came a voice, not from the +room below, but raised from the roadside in a long halloo, and from +within sounded the staccato challenge, "Who's thar?"</p> + +<p>Once more a silence momentary and taut, a silence that hurt, came like a +margin about sound, then the outer voice spoke again:</p> + +<p>"Hit's me—Mark Bartleton." That much was steady, but there the +intonation altered and mingled challenge with heartbreak. "I've done +come with my jolt wagon—ter fotch my dead boy home."</p> + +<p>Anne covered her face with her hands and shivered behind the door. She +did not need to have her fears confirmed in the growing whisper that +raised itself slowly from the sunken levels of silence. Those words with +the weighty force of their simplicity had crashed upon trembling scales +of indecision, and they trembled no longer. Labour and courage and +effort had gone into Boone's upbuilding dam of persuasion. It took a +single blow to shatter it.</p> + +<p>Now the night belonged to the torch and rifle, unless a miracle +intervened, and though Boone would struggle like a shepherd whose flock +has been scattered, he would persevere in the face of foredoomed +failure. Yet until the death-freighted and ox-drawn wagon had strained +and jolted slowly away, and even a little longer, the specious calm +held.</p> + +<p>The swinging lantern had disappeared around a turn; the sounds of +creaking axle and hub had died into the night and the door of the house +had been closed, before the hum of low talk gave her any coherent sign. +Below there was only the confused blurring of words such as may come +from a locked jury room, until over it sounded the deep basso that she +had heard first that evening.</p> + +<p>Its words were not pitched in oratorical effect, but they were +contemptuous and final. "Come on along, men," said the voice. "We're +wastin' time hyar foolin' with a man thet kain't do nothin' but talk. +What we wants now is a man with guts inside him."</p> + +<p>The sentiment of accord declared itself loudly, profanely and +indubitably. But as the fickle gathering grew turbulent, Anne heard once +again a shout followed by the opening of a door, and after that an +outcry of amazement which she could in no wise translate, beyond a +realization that something was happening which was both unforeseen and +incredible.</p> + +<p>Anne's posture, as she listened to the fluttering of her own heart, was +one of terror in its most abject and helpless form. She had persuaded +him, not only with argument but the taunt of cowardice, to interpose +himself between this tidal wave of human savagery and its object. Now +the wave had seized him up and tossed him from his precarious foothold. +His career had ended: his influence, crumbled under too severe a strain, +and his life itself probably hung on a hair balance while he stood among +wolves. She told herself that the responsibility lay with her, and her +reason grew palpitant and dizzy. Only a miracle could quench the +conflagration now, and a miracle five minutes hence would be too late.</p> + +<p>This deadly pause was unendurable. A door had opened and clamour had +been breathlessly stilled. What did it mean? Some one had entered—Who +was it?</p> + +<p>The man who had just made his entrance had boldly pushed his way to the +threshold before he called out, and had as boldly thrown wide the door +without awaiting a reply. Faces turning with a single impulse toward the +invader remained staringly intent as they saw standing there the +broad-shouldered figure of Asa Gregory, who should be in jail, who for +seven years had not been free to ride or walk the highways.</p> + +<p>"I was pardoned out, this morning," he said briefly, "and I met up with +some of our boys while'st I was ridin' home. I was right interested in +what them boys told me."</p> + +<p>"Ye've done come in good season, Asa," shouted an impulsive spokesman. +"We're settin' out ter settle old scores, an' Boone Wellver's done laid +down on us."</p> + +<p>But Asa turned a cool eye on the informant, and into the sonorous +quality of his voice came an acid bite.</p> + +<p>"Who's got the best license here to talk about score-settling? Who's +been sulterin' in jail for seven years?"</p> + +<p>"You have, Asa," came the chorused response. "We're hearkenin' ter ye, +Asa."</p> + +<p>"All right," snapped back the new arrival. "What I have need to say I +kin say right speedily. Quit it! Go home and leave me to pay off my own +scores!" He crossed to Boone and laid a hand on his shoulder, and +standing that way, he added: "The man that says this boy lays down is a +liar. As for me, I stands by what <i>he</i> says! Ef our own folks don't know +who their strong men are, our enemies know—an' seek to hire 'em kilt. +Go home an' wait till we calls on ye!"</p> + +<p>An hour later Boone stood alone with Anne in the room where he had been +overthrown and rehabilitated.</p> + +<p>"I ought to take you across to Aunt Judy's house," he told her in a +weary voice. "I don't suppose you should be left here—with me—like +this—for what's left of the night. Until now there's been company +enough."</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head wearily. "I'd fall off of a horse," she said. +"I'm too tired to ride. I'm going back up those stairs—"</p> + +<p>The man moved a step forward.</p> + +<p>"Joe Gregory is coming back," he explained, "but it will probably be +near to dawn before he gets here."</p> + +<p>As she reached the stairway she halted impulsively with her hand on the +latch, and stood poised there with an expression of baffling, half-eager +expectancy. The sensitive beauty of her face and the slender grace of +her body seemed for a moment to cast aside their fatigue and to invite +him, but Boone stood resolutely the width of the room away.</p> + +<p>Had he known it, that was a moment in which he might have grasped a more +vital rehabilitation. Had he then offered again the explanation for +which he had once been denied opportunity, her readiness to hear him +would have been eager. At that moment she was once more his for the +taking. He need only have extended his arms and said, "Come!" and she +would have responded instantly and gladly. She was receptive, stirred, +but one thing her pride still inhibited. She could not make the +advances.</p> + +<p>Boone let his moment pass; let it pass unrecognized with the blindness +of life's perverse coincidence. At that precise instant, a mood was upon +him which was no intrinsic reflection of his own spirit, but rather the +reflection of all the stormy transitions of the night.</p> + +<p>She had seen him at a crisis when he had been on the verge of collapse +like a bridge whose centre rests upon a span of flawed steel. True, he +had not actually collapsed, but, save for her intervention, he would +have done so. Now his mortification withered him and perversely +expressed itself in resentment against her—for having witnessed his +shame.</p> + +<p>He owed her everything—so much that his self-respect was +bankrupted—and if he could have hated her, he would have hated her just +then. He even fancied that he did. He saw in her a cold, impersonal +deity, consciously superior to himself and secretly triumphant over his +weakness. So he not only let the moment pass, but he rebuffed its +unspoken invitation.</p> + +<p>"I owe you everything," he said with the cold ungraciousness of a +grudging confession. "If you hadn't come, I'd have had a hell in my +conscience tomorrow. I'd have been a murderer. I even tried to force you +to admit that it was for me, myself, that you cared enough to do it. I'm +ashamed of that.... It won't happen again." He paused and his voice was +bitterly edged when he went on. "I begged for the chance to explain +things—when there was still time. You refused to hear me. Now I +wouldn't explain if <i>you</i> begged <i>me</i> to—That's over, but I acknowledge +the debt I owe you—for tonight. It's a heavier debt than any man can +stand in and keep his self-respect."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Morgan and Anne had been to the theatre, and when they came back to the +house the lawyer had drawn from his pocket a small package, and while +Anne opened it he looked on. It was an engagement ring, and quite worthy +of his connoisseur's selection. But when he put out his hand to take +hers, she drew it back and spoke impulsively:</p> + +<p>"Before you put that on—Morgan—there's something I must tell you."</p> + +<p>He smiled his acquiescence and waited with the emerald set emblem in his +fingers, while, in the manner of one who has determined upon a recital +that does not flow easily, she began. She filled in for him the events +of the two days of her recent and somewhat mysterious absence, and its +cause.</p> + +<p>Morgan had learned to accept with a certain philosophy the +impulse-governed life of the girl who had promised to marry him. If Anne +had been less uniquely her own unstereotyped self, she would not have +been the fascinating person who had captured his fastidious admiration.</p> + +<p>While she talked, his face grew sober, but he refrained from any +interruption, and at last she looked up and said simply: "I thought it +was best to tell you all about it now. I went—and that's where I +was—and for hours of that ghastly night—there was no one else +there—but just the two of us."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Morgan slowly. She waited for him to supplement the two +words, and when he failed to do so, she went on:</p> + +<p>"I thought maybe that—knowing about that—you might not want to—" She +broke off, and her eyes falling on the ring, finished the sentence.</p> + +<p>Morgan shook his head. His usual self-possession was a shade shaken, but +he responded definitely, "I do."</p> + +<p>"Of course," she conscientiously explained, "when I went, I didn't know +what lay ahead, but I took the chances and—that's what it's important +for you to understand, Morgan—even if it were to do over—and I knew it +all, I'd go again."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said her fiancé slowly, "I suppose so." He paused a moment before +he finished. "Naturally, it's not a thing that I'd have chosen to have +occur, but it was the only thing you could do—and be yourself."</p> + +<p>"And you have no—questions to ask me?"</p> + +<p>Once more he shook his head. He even smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>"No," he said without hesitancy, "I have no questions to ask you."</p> + +<p>Anne rose from her chair and laid a hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Morgan," she exclaimed, "you know how to be generous. I've got to be +honest with you. I'll stand by my agreement—but I guess I'll always +love him. If you marry me, you're taking that chance. I can't give you +my heart because it's not mine."</p> + +<p>He slipped the ring on her finger, and across his serious features came +a slow smile.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's what a thousand fools have said before, Anne, and a +thousand more may say it again, but all I ask is the chance to make you +love me. I'll succeed because I can't afford to fail."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI</h2> + + +<p>Had Tom Carr chosen to sit in a penitential spirit, reviewing his life, +he might, perhaps, have been forced to acknowledge a record tarnished +with misdeeds, but his conscience would have remained clear of that most +depressing sin—bungling the undertaking to which he had set his hand. +Even his delegated murders had been accomplished with tidy and +praiseworthy dispatch. Now he had collaborated with a bungler and +harvested a dilemma. Saul Fulton had selected an executioner whose rifle +ball had targeted itself in a breast not marked for death—yet one which +would none the less cry out for vengeance. Above all, the <i>contretemps</i> +had proven most ill-timed, since it coincided with Asa's pardon and +return.</p> + +<p>Word of his coming had reached the house of Tom Carr before Asa himself +had ridden away from the livery stable, and that same hour found Saul, +like the general discredited by a <i>débâcle</i>, an outcast from the support +of his late allies and a refugee in full flight.</p> + +<p>Tom conceived that he was doing enough by way of generosity when he +supplied Saul with a horse and a lantern and set him on his way toward +the Virginia boundary. Asa's recrudescence from the burial of prison +walls to the glamour of a delivered martyr brought him to a choice +between standing siege or throwing his Jonah to the whales, and Tom had +not hesitated.</p> + +<p>So when the party that rode with the deputy sheriff dismounted at the +door of the Carr house, they found it unreservedly open to them. Tom did +not even waste a lie when he met eyes as uncompromising as though they +were looking across rifle-sights.</p> + +<p>"You boys hev come jest a leetle too late," he tranquilly informed them. +"Yore man spent some sev'ral days an' nights with me—but he hain't hyar +now."</p> + +<p>"Then,"—it was Boone who put the question, while Asa maintained the +stony-faced silence of a graven image—"then you admit that you took him +in and sheltered him?"</p> + +<p>The eyes of the Carr leader had held the open light of candour. Now they +mirrored that of guileless surprise, and both expressions were master +achievements of deceit.</p> + +<p>"Why wouldn't I take him in, Boone," he inquired with admirable gravity. +"He 'peared ter be mighty contrite erbout ther way he'd done acted at +Asa's trial. He 'lowed he'd come back home a' purpose ter put sartain +matters before ther new governor thet mout holp Asa git his pardon. Thet +was p'intedly what he said—or words ter thet amount."</p> + +<p>Boone smiled his open and ironic disbelief. "And you swallowed that lie, +Tom? It doesn't stand on all fours with your repute for keen wits."</p> + +<p>The face of the intriguer remained steadfast save that the unblinking +eyes became a little pained. He fumbled in his breast pocket, and from +among the few dirty envelopes that came out sheafed in his hands, +selected a crumpled page of letter paper.</p> + +<p>"Thet's whut I went on," he said simply. "I've done lost ther envellup +hit come in, but thar hit is in Saul's own hand-write."</p> + +<p>Boone took the missive which bore a South American date line and, after +reading it, handed it without comment to Asa.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Tom," it ran. "I swore to a volume of lies at Asa +Gregory's trial to save my own neck. It's been haunting me +until I've got to come back and help to get him a pardon. I'm +indicted myself, and I've got to come in secret or go to jail +without getting results. I'm coming to your house, and until +the time is ripe it mustn't be known that I'm there. You don't +love Asa, but we're all mountain men together, and that trial +was a trial of the mountains. Resp. Saul Fulton."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Saul had ridden away the night before in the haste of a man whose life +is forfeit to delay, yet before he mounted he had penned that letter at +Tom Carr's dictation, and the ink of the South American date line was +scarce twelve hours dry.</p> + +<p>"I'll send it back to you, Tom," he had demurred. "There isn't time now. +They may come any minute to get me!"</p> + +<p>"If ye don't write hit—an' thet speedily—they'll find a ready-made +corpse when they gits hyar," had been Tom's succinct reply with an +eloquent gesture toward his armpit holster. "Ye got me inter this +fix—now ye've got ter alibi me outen hit."</p> + +<p>Without waste of words, the posse turned and left the house. They were +starting on a pursuit which they knew would end in nothing, but Tom, +following them to the gate, called out cheerfully: "I hope ye gits him, +boys. He left my house without no farewell betwixt sundown an' +sun-up—an' he took ther best nag outen my stable ter go with."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>One who would sound the depths of ingenious depravity should lend ear to +the tale of the householder whose life has been ravished of tranquillity +by that small boy of the neighbourhood who leads and incites the local +gang of youthful hooligans.</p> + +<p>To such a tale the judge of the Louisville Juvenile Court was listening +now, and the defendant, who sat sullen eyed in the essential wickedness +of his eleven years, heard witness after witness unfold his record of +misdoing. He and his vassal desperadoes, it was averred, broke windows +and street light globes, preyed upon the apple barrels of the corner +grocery, and used language that scalded and sullied the virginal ears of +passing wash-ladies and plumber-gentlemen.</p> + +<p>"There can't nobody live in peace in them two blocks, Judge, your +Honour," came the heated asseveration of the man in the witness chair. +"He's got more influence over my boys than what I've got myself—and the +Reform School's the only place for the likes of him."</p> + +<p>"Where do you spend your Saturday nights?" inquired the personage on the +bench irrelevantly, and the furtive eyes of the witness shifted and lost +their self-assurance.</p> + +<p>"Here and there, Judge, your Honour. Sometimes I drop in at Mike's place +for a glass of common beer."</p> + +<p>"Do you occasionally send your boys—the followers of this dangerous +bandit—to Mike's place with a bucket?"</p> + +<p>The man hesitated, and his glance savoured of repressed truculence. +"Maybe I do, once in a while," he replied doggedly. "I ain't on trial +here, am I?"</p> + +<p>"No—not just now." The judge spoke almost gently. "Stand down and let +the fellow who <i>is</i> on trial take that chair."</p> + +<p>The child with the sullen face slouched forward, and the Judge's eyes +engaged his smouldering young pupil's with less austerity perhaps than +the description of his turpitude warranted. This man, who sat one day a +week to try the cases of delinquent and incorrigible children, presided +five days over more mature hearings. From Monday through Thursday he +mantled himself in judicial dignity and his language was the decorous +speech of the bench. One who observed him only on Friday would hardly +have gathered that. Just now he leaned forward and addressed the boy in +a conversational tone and an argot that savoured of the +alley-playground.</p> + +<p>"Willie, haven't you got any other name—I mean amongst those kids that +belong to your gang?"</p> + +<p>Willie swallowed hard, but inasmuch as he failed to reply, his +inquisitor went on:</p> + +<p>"Surely those other kids don't call a rough-neck like you just Willie. +You wouldn't stand for that, would you? Haven't you got some +professional name like Bulldog Bill—or something?"</p> + +<p>A fugitive glint of pride flashed in the boy's eyes under their +cultivated toughness and their present alarm, and with a sheepish grin +he enlightened this embodiment of the law.</p> + +<p>"The other kids calls me 'Apache Bill.'"</p> + +<p>The Judge did not smile, but accepted the information with full gravity, +and spoke reflectively:</p> + +<p>"Officer McGuire tells me that there are about a dozen members in your +gang. It looks like a feller that can boss a crew of that size ought to +have something in him. Look here, kid, let's talk this over."</p> + +<p>After five minutes of low-toned confidences the man on the bench found +himself looking into eyes of abated sullenness and listening to a voice +that was simply small boy.</p> + +<p>"You see it's a sucker play for you to travel the route that ends in the +pen."</p> + +<p>The Judge made it seem that Apache Bill himself had arrived at this sane +conclusion in which his Honour merely concurred.</p> + +<p>"And since you realize that yourself, I'm not going to send you to the +Reform School this trip. You are going to give me your promise to run +that gang differently." He looked up, and his glance fell on a young +woman sitting among several others at the back of the room. There was +much in her appearance to arrest the attention and challenge interest, +but what one noticed most were eyes that held an inner light and a +starry brightness. "I'm going to have you report to one of our probation +officers every week," continued the Judge to Willie alias "Apache Bill," +"and come to see me myself occasionally."</p> + +<p>Usually for a case of this sort he would have selected a man from that +group of volunteers who made effective the machinery of the children's +court but this young terrorist would take a bit of understanding in his +reclamation, and among the men and women who aided and abetted his +efforts no other seemed to see into the intricacies of the boy mind +quite so unerringly as that young woman with the starry eyes, who had +been a famous belle and before that a tom-boy.</p> + +<p>So the Judge nodded to her and said, "Miss Masters, I'm going to have +'Apache Bill' report to you. You two might talk over a boy-scout +organization down there in his district."</p> + +<p>As the girl rose from her chair, the Judge's face suddenly developed +stern lines and his brows knit closely as he turned his attention to the +principal complainant.</p> + +<p>"John Vaster," he announced, this time with no softening of tone, "a +probation officer is coming to your house, too. If those boys of yours +go to Mike's place after this with a bucket, or if you don't find a way +to keep them off the streets at night, you're coming back here, not as a +prosecuting witness but as a defendant."</p> + +<p>Anne Masters had turned to this work of volunteer probation officer as +to a refuge from herself. Perhaps in her own mind it stood also for a +sort of penance for sins with which she stood self-charged.</p> + +<p>Her marriage with Morgan had been set for June, and somehow it seemed to +her that when the ceremony had been gone through with her besetting +doubts and struggles would end, if not in happiness, at least in +resignation. Then she would acknowledge the abdication of Romance and +accept her allegiance to Duty.</p> + +<p>But meanwhile, until the solemn seal of the Church's ritual had been set +upon that resolve, bringing, as she sought to convince herself it would, +a steadied feeling of solace and of perplexities resolved, she seemed to +hang like a Mahomet's coffin in suspended disquiet and misery.</p> + +<p>Boone had said he would never explain—and she accepted his assertion as +final. But for that explanation which she had once silenced, and which, +when she was receptive, he had refused, she now burned with anxiety. +Unless she had work to do while she fought back the insurgency and +revolt of her heart, she would not be able to endure the pictures with +which her imagination filled the future. Through this period of +heartache she missed the essential, in that she did not discern the +artificiality of the whole situation or the cure that would have lain in +a repudiation of false pride.</p> + +<p>Whatever mistakes she had made, she was now bound by her promise to +Morgan, and doubly bound by the tyranny of her mother's dependence +which, having been once accepted, could no longer be repudiated.</p> + +<p>Colonel Wallifarro, bending over his desk one forenoon some two months +after he had given the dinner to announce his son's engagement, had +chokingly fallen forward with his face on his elbows.</p> + +<p>When the physicians arrived, he was lying on his office lounge under the +age-yellowed engraving of President Jefferson Davis and the grouped +cabinet of the erstwhile Confederate States of America, and it was there +that he died within the half hour.</p> + +<p>"Acute indigestion," said the doctors, "His blood pressure was high and +he refused to ease up on the work. He had often been warned that this +might occur."</p> + +<p>His will showed that in one respect at least he had heeded the warning, +for its date was recent. The estate, much shrunken below the estimate of +public supposition, was devised entirely to his son except for a bequest +of a few thousand dollars to Anne's mother. There was mention, too, of a +note, as yet unpaid, for twenty thousand dollars "loaned and hereby +released, to my friend Lawrence Masters, Esq."</p> + +<p>"In leaving my whole estate to my beloved son Morgan," read an +explanatory clause of the document, "I do so happy in the knowledge that +I likewise provide for my niece, Anne Masters, to whom he is engaged to +be married, and for whom my love and affection is that of a father."</p> + +<p>And Boone Wellver, who had still hoped against hope to receive from Anne +the word that would restore to him at least a fighting chance, heard +nothing. It all seemed to his gloomy analysis relentlessly logical that +the girl, who for a long while had fought for her choice of an alien in +her own world, should go back to her kind. After all she was not for +him, and his dream had only been a fantasy long indulged but no longer +possible of indulgence. So Boone plodded on, and in the more obvious +manifestations of life was not greatly changed. The zest of the game was +gone, but its realities remained to be met, and for him there was a +coward memory to be lived down—the memory of a relapse from which a +woman had saved him.</p> + +<p>The ordeal of waiting was almost over for Anne, and the wedding +preparations were under way. From the bed which she had not been able to +leave since the day of Colonel Wallifarro's burial, Mrs. Masters +injected a more fervent enthusiasm into these preliminaries than did the +bride to be.</p> + +<p>After the fashion of one who has been embittered and enjoys a belated +triumph, the mother lived in a sort of fantasy which could see no clouds +in the sky of her daughter's future. A factitious gaiety animated her, +even though the death of her mainstay had crushed her into invalidism.</p> + +<p>The haunted misery in Anne's face, and the lids that closed as if +against a painful glare when Mrs. Masters forecast the happiness to be, +were things that had no recognition or acknowledgment from the lady in +the sick bed. It was as if her own joy in a dream achieved were +comprehensive enough to embrace and assure the life-long happiness of +her daughter, as the whole includes the part.</p> + +<p>But when Anne sat down at her desk one afternoon to address some of the +wedding invitations, she was out of sight of the maternal eye and her +sensitive lips dropped piteously.</p> + +<p>On the list before her, made out by herself and augmented by Morgan and +her mother, she had come upon the name of Boone Wellver, and suddenly +the things on her desk swam through a mist of tears.</p> + +<p>Anne Masters sat there for a long while, then with a white face she drew +a line through the name on the list. At least he should be spared that +heartlessness of reminder.</p> + +<p>She and Morgan were going abroad. Morgan had foreign business which made +the journey imperative, and it was only when the courts adjourned and +political matters fell quiet with the coming of summer that he could so +long be away from his practice and his public affairs, but Anne could +not think of Europe now. Her thoughts turned mutinously to imagined +vistas seen from a rock at the lop of Slag-face across valleys where +sunset cast the shadows of mountains: where just now the dogwood was in +a foam of blossom and the laurel would soon be in pink flowering.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII</h2> + + +<p>When Victor McCalloway came home in June he read in the face of the +young man he met there that chapters deeply shadowed had been written +into his life, and Boone was prompt enough in his confessions, though +when he alluded to Anne's approaching marriage his words became meagre +and his utterance flat with a hampering distrust of emotion and +self-betrayal.</p> + +<p>McCalloway gazed off grave-eyed across the small door-yard and +mercifully refrained from any hurtful attempt at verbal solace.</p> + +<p>Finally when the hum of bees in the honeysuckle had been the only +disturbers of their long silence, the Scotchman spoke—and the younger +features relaxed into relief because the words did not, even in +kindness, touch upon the soreness of his mood. "The old spruce over +there—the one that used to be the tallest thing we saw—it's gone, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Boone nodded. "The sleet took it down last winter."</p> + +<p>Victor McCalloway was sage enough in human diagnosis to divine that, +however much Boone had suffered through a period of months, the +expression of quiet but well nigh unendurable suffering that just now +haunted his eyes had not been constant in them. A man subjected long to +that soul-cramping stress, with no outlet or abatement, would have +become a melancholiac. In one sense it might be a chronic wretchedness, +but today some particular incitement had rendered it acute—acute beyond +the power of stoic blood to hold in concealment.</p> + +<p>Repression only made the gnawing ache more burdensome. McCalloway wished +that Boone might have gone, like the less inhibited folk of an elder +generation, to some wailing wall and beat his breast with clenched +fists—and come away less pent with hard control.</p> + +<p>"I'll just go in and have a look over my scant accumulation of mail," he +said with the same Anglo-Saxon pretence of armour-plated emotion. "In +these days even the hermit doesn't altogether escape letters."</p> + +<p>But when, inside the house, he found among the few and dusty envelopes +one containing a wedding invitation, and when his eyes went, +quick-glancing, to the wall calendar in a comparison of dates, his brain +cleared of its mystification.</p> + +<p>Tomorrow was the day of Anne's marriage.</p> + +<p>If the number twelve on the calendar's June page bore a black penciling, +like a mourning band, it was palpably a thing that Boone had not meant +other eyes to see or understand.</p> + +<p>McCalloway, himself in the shadowed interior, turned his head and could +see through the door a sweep of sun-flooded hills and flawless sky. +Against a background of blossoming laurel and crystal brightness Boone +sat, stiff-postured, with eyes fixed and unseeing. McCalloway carried +the card and its covering to the empty fireplace and touched a match to +its edge. When it had been consumed, he went out again, and the younger +man looked up, slowly, as though bringing himself out of a lethargy, and +spoke with a dull intonation.</p> + +<p>"You have said nothing, sir, of what I told you of myself. Saul came +back and I reverted. That night I was a feud killer pure and simple. If +blood didn't flow it was only because—" He broke off and began over, +speaking with the rapidity of one rushing at an obstacle which has +balked him, "it was only because—<i>she</i> stopped me."</p> + +<p>"The point is," responded McCalloway soberly, "that blood didn't flow. +You threw your weight into the right pan of the scales."</p> + +<p>Boone shrugged his shoulders, disdaining a specious justification. "The +rescue came from outside myself. One must he judged by his motive—and +by that standard I failed."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, sir! Damn it, not at all!"</p> + +<p>At the sudden tempestuousness of the soldier's outburst, Boone looked +up, surprised. McCalloway, too, had felt and reacted to the tension of +their interview, and now he cleared his throat self-consciously and +proceeded in a manner of recovered calmness.</p> + +<p>"You were in the position of infantry just then, my boy, under the fire +of field pieces. You needed artillery support—and, thanks to her, it +came. There are times when no infantry can endure without a curtain of +fire."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"She looked as if she'd been seeing ghosts," announced Anne's +maid-of-honour, with a little shudder of emphasis, as she stood in a +chatting group of wedding attendants just outside the door of Christ +Church.</p> + +<p>"I think she's the loveliest thing I've ever seen," declared another +girl. "Anne has a distinction that's positively royal. Don't you think +so, Reed?"</p> + +<p>The young man addressed, after a half hour's deprivation inside the +church, was hastening to avail himself of a cigarette. With a match +close to his lips he grunted, and then having inhaled and exhaled, he +supplemented the incoherent affirmative. "You're both right. As for +myself, I'd rather have my bride's royalty less suggestive of Marie +Antoinette riding in a tumbril. I don't like to have it brought home to +me that marriage is life's supreme sacrifice."</p> + +<p>Anne herself, sitting beside Morgan Wallifarro as they drove home, was +rather breathless in her silence. Today it had been the rehearsal, but +tomorrow it would be the ceremony itself, and from that there would be +no turning back. An intolerable sense of inevitability seemed to close +and darken in a stifling oppression that left her faint.</p> + +<p>Until now she had been telling herself, as one will tell oneself +specious things to prop a tottering resolution, that the ghosts of +incertitude and panic would hold dominion only over the days and weeks +of waiting. If she could keep her courage steadfast until she had +actually become Morgan's wife, the forces that support one in one's duty +would rally in closer order to uphold her.</p> + +<p>But there in the church, going through the formula of the rehearsal, +that fallacious self-bolstering had collapsed, and the misgivings of +these days stood revealed as prefatory only to a more permanent and +chafing thraldom.</p> + +<p>If Boone had been there she felt that there was no law within herself +strong enough to have prevented her from fleeing to him—and terror had +seized upon her.</p> + +<p>Then it was that the something came into her eyes which the +maid-of-honour had described as the appearance of one seeing ghosts.</p> + +<p>Morgan owed every success in life, or at least attributed every success, +to his refusal to admit the possibility of failure. Like the Nervii, "he +was strong because he seemed strong." Anne had brought him, at times, +close to an acknowledgment of defeat in his paramount resolve—but his +perseverance, he believed, had conquered, and his fears were over.</p> + +<p>Now he looked into a face from which the colour had ebbed and in which +the eyes were far from radiant—but Morgan told himself that it should +be his privilege to bring the bloom of happiness back, and his colossal +self-confidence was not daunted by any serious misgiving.</p> + +<p>It was not until they had entered the house and stood alone in the same +room where Boone had listened to his edict of banishment, that she +turned slowly and said in a voice both terrified and defiant:</p> + +<p>"Morgan—I can't do it.... For God's sake release me from my promise!"</p> + +<p>She stood facing him and braced for the recoil of that indignant +protestation which she had every right to expect from him. She was not +only withdrawing the promise upon which she had let him plan the entire +edifice of his future, but doing so with a tardiness that made it, for +him, inescapably conspicuous and mortifying.</p> + +<p>But Morgan was a master of the strategy of surprise. His jaw did not +drop in stricken amazement. His left hand, holding the glove just drawn +from the right, did not clench in dramatic tensity. His eyes did not +even smoulder into that suppressed rage which mischievously she used to +tease into them for the pleasure of seeing them snap.</p> + +<p>If anything, the prominent out-thrust of the clean-cut jaw was less +emphatic than usual, and the girl felt the sinking helplessness of one +who, keyed to a hard battle, launches the attack and encounters no +opposition.</p> + +<p>Morgan had seen the wild, almost irrational, terror of her eyes, and +they had silenced argument. For once he recognized a defeat that he +could avoid only by an ungenerous victory to which he could not bring +himself, and he had no reproach because he could see that, in her effort +to perform her promise, she had goaded herself to the breaking point.</p> + +<p>His face showed every thoroughbred and manly quality of its blood as he +inquired, with as great a deference as though her sudden announcement +came with entire reasonableness: "Are you sure—you can't?"</p> + +<p>When she had nodded her head miserably, Morgan argued his cause. He +talked with a quiet and earnest eagerness but without reproach, as if he +were for the first time pleading his love.</p> + +<p>But the arguments held nothing new. She herself had lain awake at night +repeating them until they were like parrot reiterations. They interposed +no answer to the monstrous fact that a marriage which she faced in such +unwillingness would be a thing that divorced the heart from the body. +That she had so long beguiled herself into believing it possible, filled +her now with self-scorn, but to the untimeliness of her decision he +offered no protest.</p> + +<p>They talked, all things considered, with surprising calmness, and at +length Morgan glanced down and, seeing on the table near his hand the +plans for the house they had meant to build, picked them up absently, +glanced at them and tossed them back. It was the gesture of accepting a +finality.</p> + +<p>"I suppose, Anne," he said, with a rather more than merely decent +assumption of whatever fault existed, "I've refused to see the truth +because I was blindly selfish, but I couldn't seek to hold you—if it +costs you both happiness and self-respect." He paused and then added. "I +ask only one thing, now. Don't make this decision final. Think it over +for three months—"</p> + +<p>"Morgan dear," she interrupted in a gasping voice, "for more than three +months, I've thought of nothing else."</p> + +<p>"I know." The gentleness of his speech was the more telling by its +contrast with his aggressive habit of self-assertion. "But you were +thinking then with a sense of being bound. Complete freedom may make a +difference. At least leave me that hope."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid," she faltered, "I'm very certain."</p> + +<p>"Anyway," he reminded her, as he forced a rueful smile, "it will be +easier to tell your mother in that fashion. She is on my side, you +know."</p> + +<p>Possibly Morgan had long ago counted this over-ardent advocacy on the +part of Mrs. Masters as a hurtful partisanship. He knew that Anne's +spirit had been fretted, ragged under the maternal insistence, even when +it was tempered with finesse. He knew too that in this final declaration +of freedom, the girl could not escape the knowledge that for her mother +as well as herself she was wrecking every provident prospect and raising +the ghosts of shabby, genteel poverty.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Morgan, with a delicacy of tact which one would hardly +have expected from him, "you'd better let me tell her—that we've +decided to wait until I come back from abroad."</p> + +<p>Anne sickened at the thought of her mother's disappointment and at the +thought too of how, for her, the future was to be met. Then as if that +were too gigantic a problem, her mind veered to lesser, yet disturbing, +complications.</p> + +<p>Today's papers had printed advance details of the wedding. The type of +one heading seemed to stand at the moment before her eyes, "Happy Event +of Interest to Society," but when she spoke somewhat timidly of these +things to Morgan he contemptuously waved them aside.</p> + +<p>"Damn the invitations and the wedding guests," he exclaimed. "We weren't +getting married for their benefit. Leave that to me. The papers will +announce that I've got to go to Europe—and that because of a turn in +your mother's condition you've decided to defer the wedding until I come +back. That's all they need to know."</p> + +<p>He turned to the window and after a minute wheeled suddenly back.</p> + +<p>"I have one thing still to ask. I have no longer any claim, of course. +But until three months have passed—you won't send for Boone Wellver, +will you?"</p> + +<p>The girl's head came up with a tilted chin.</p> + +<p>"I shall never send for him," she vehemently declared. "He's done with +me and that's all there is to it!"</p> + +<p>It was not undiluted fiction which Morgan gave to the morning papers +that night, as he regretfully reported the sudden heart attack of Mrs. +Masters, which necessitated an eleventh hour postponement of his +wedding. There had been a heart attack which might have been averted had +the good lady been able to receive his tidings with a less flurried +spirit, but that he did not regard it necessary to explain, and a flinty +something in his eye discouraged unnecessary questions.</p> + +<p>So Morgan set out alone on the trip which was to have been a honeymoon, +and the lady whose dreams of a rehabilitated place in society had been +dashed afforded her daughter a fulness of anxiety by hanging +precariously between life and death.</p> + +<p>It is doubtful whether those circles in which Anne and Morgan moved were +wholly beguiled, and it is certain that sympathy followed the traveller.</p> + +<p>"The engagement will never be renewed," mused an elderly lady who had +been fond of Anne from childhood. "She won't take up again with her wild +man of the mountains either, you may rest assured of that."</p> + +<p>"But why?" challenged the gentleman to whom these sage observations were +addressed. "Presumably a persistent interest in young Wellver caused +this break with—"</p> + +<p>A quiet laugh interrupted him, and the gentleman's eyes for some reason +grew grave. He and the woman with whom he talked had been lovers once, +engaged years upon years ago, and society had always wondered that +neither of them had ever married. Now with snow upon both their heads he +still sedately marched where he had once danced attendance upon her.</p> + +<p>"Because," she soberly replied, "there is such a thing as letting the +psychological moment go by. Life isn't all mating season."</p> + +<p>"As to that," he entered dignified demurrer, "we have always disagreed."</p> + +<p>The lady, ignoring the observation, went on, holding intact the thread +of her reflections. "If the break with Boone had been remediable it +would never have widened till so many months ran between them. No, she +has given each his <i>congé</i>, and she hasn't a penny of her own in the +world and—" She paused dramatically, and the man finished the sentiment +for her in a less alarmed tone.</p> + +<p>"It would seem to leave her flat; still she has a good mind and +wonderful charm."</p> + +<p>"Yes,"—the retort was dry. "The mind is untrained, and the charm is a +menace."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Masters died early that summer, though the physicians assured her +self-accusing daughter that no possible connection of cause and effect +could be traced between her death and the heart attack provoked by the +doldrums of disappointment. But the girl's eyes were haunted when she +came back from the funeral to the empty house, which was not her own +house, and sat down, ghost-pale, against the black of her mourning. The +world which she must now face was an absolutely changed world from +which, as from dismantled furniture, all the easy cushioning and +draperies had been ripped away, leaving sharp and uncovered angles of +contact.</p> + +<p>In it there was no place for her, save such a place as she could gain by +invoking some miracle, for which she had no formula, to exchange +butterfly beauty for the provident effectiveness of the ant hill.</p> + +<p>Morgan, whose frequent letters had gone unanswered, became obsessed with +an anxiety which drove him homeward by a fast steamer that had seemed to +him intolerably slow.</p> + +<p>When its voyage had ended, a fog had held it in the harbour for half a +day, and during that half day Morgan paced the decks, fuming over a +dozen apprehensions.</p> + +<p>It was to a Morgan Wallifarro unaccustomedly pale and agitated that the +same lady, who had pessimistically forecast Anne's future, gave him, on +his arrival at home, what information she could.</p> + +<p>"No one seems to have her address, Morgan," she said. "I suppose she +wanted, for a while, to be in new surroundings. As for myself, I had a +brief note sent back with a book I'd lent her. She said that she was +going to New York—but that was all, and when I telephoned she had +gone."</p> + +<p>"But her affairs must be arranged for her. She has nothing," protested +the man desperately. "In God's name what is she going to do? How did she +suppose I was going to find her?"</p> + +<p>The lady laid a hand on the young man's elbow, and tears came into her +own eyes,</p> + +<p>"She didn't confide in me, Morgan. What I think is only guess-work—but +I don't believe she wanted you to find her."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII</h2> + + +<p>To Boone Wellver, Louisville had become a city lying without the zone of +personal experience. Like a steamer which has altered its sailings, he +made it no longer a port of call.</p> + +<p>That mad hiatus of apostacy, in which he had been willing to throw down +all the shrines of his acquired faith, had become to him an evil dream +of the past—yet out of it something had remained. The fog which had +bemused him then had left uncleared certain minors of realization. Just +as he had not yet recognized that the Commonwealth's attorney had sent +him away unsatisfied because he had come making his demands to the +arrogant tune of insult, so he failed, too, to appreciate that Anne had +held the silence, which, without her permission, he was resolved not to +break, because he had violently rebuffed her.</p> + +<p>He had refused to read the papers on the day set for her wedding, +because he could not bear the torture of what he had expected to find +there, and McCalloway had not spoken of the postponement because it fell +within the boundaries of a topic upon which he had set a ban of silence, +unless the younger man broached it. So with what would have seemed an +impossible coincidence, it was weeks later that Boone ceased to +flagellate himself with the thought of a honeymoon that had never begun. +Even then he, unlike the more sophisticated of the circle to which he +had once been admitted, accepted without question the reason given for +the deferred marriage, and saw for himself no brightening of +possibility.</p> + +<p>With the curtain rung down on the thrilling drama whose theme had been +dominated by love, work seemed to Boone increasingly the motif of +things. Service appeared more and more the purpose meant in the blind +gropings of existence toward some end. Otherwise there was nothing.</p> + +<p>But one day long after all this, when the months had run to seasons, +Boone broke his law of self-appointed exile and went to Louisville. He +did not go from Marlin Town but came the other way—from Washington.</p> + +<p>For now the mountain man had his place on Capitol Hill and no longer +felt the uncertainty of diffidence in answering when he heard himself +recognized from the speaker's chair as "the gentleman from Kentucky."</p> + +<p>It was not at all the Washington he had pictured. In many ways it was a +more wonderful, and in many a less wonderful, place than that known from +photographs and print and fancy.</p> + +<p>Life had caught him out of meagre and primitive beginnings and led him, +for a while, through corridors of romanticism. Before his eyes, +imagination-kindled, had been the colours of dreams and the beckoning of +an evening star. The colours had been evanescent, and the star had set. +The corridor of visionary promise had come to an end, and its door had +opened on Commonplace.</p> + +<p>He told himself that he was done with romance. In his life it had been, +perhaps, necessary as a stage through which experience must lead him. +Henceforth his deity was to be Reason, a cold and austere goddess but a +constant one.</p> + +<p>But Boone did not quite know himself. Sentiment still lay as strong in +him as the spring life that sleeps under the winter sleet. The man in +whom it does not survive is one whose spiritual arteries have hardened.</p> + +<p>One lesson he modestly believed he had learned out of his journeying +from his log-cabin down to the Bluegrass and up to Capitol Hill. He had +become an apostle of Life's mutability, chained to no fixed post of +unplastic thought.</p> + +<p>Upon these things his reflections had been running as he made the +journey back to Kentucky, and of them he was thinking now, as, having +arrived, he stood with bared head in the billowing stretches of Cave +Hill Cemetery.</p> + +<p>Victor McCalloway had been in Marlin County hardly at all during these +last two years and he was not there now. As usual, when the veteran was +absent, Boone had no idea to what quarter of the globe, or in response +to what mysterious call, his steps had turned. He thought, though, that +it would be his preceptor's wish to be represented as the body of +General Prince was lowered to its last rest.</p> + +<p>He saw again in memory two figures before a cabin hearth, debating with +the heat of devotees, the calibre and qualities of today's and +yesterday's military leaders in general, of Hector Dinwiddie in +particular. He saw himself again sitting huddled in the chimney corner, +nursing the patched knees of an illiterate boy.</p> + +<p>Now one was dead—he could not even be sure that both were not dead—and +Boone, no longer in homespun, had come from Washington to uncover his +head under the winter sky as the words of the last rites were spoken +over the body of General Prince.</p> + +<p>Into that grave, it seemed to him, was going something unreplaceable. +This man was the embodiment of a passing tradition, almost of a dead +era, in the altering life of the nation itself.</p> + +<p>The ideas and beliefs for which his early life had stood were already +buried, and now he lay himself at rest, a link between present and +past—as much an exemplification of chivalry as though his feet had been +crossed and his sword laid in the crusader's posture of repose.</p> + +<p>Boone heard the austere beauty of the service—but he felt more +poignantly the picture that his eyes looked on: the coffin draped with +two flags that overlapped their folds—though once a tide of +cannon-smother ran between them—the Stars and Stripes of the Nation and +the Stars and Bars of the Confederacy.</p> + +<p>On one hand, in a grizzled honour-guard, stood old men in the same mist +grey that he had worn with a general's stars until Lee surrendered, and +on the other hand was ranged an equally frosted and withered squad in +Grand Army blue. Then at last a clear and flawless sweetness floated +away from the lips of the militia bugler, who, in accordance with the +General's wish, was sounding taps across his closing grave.</p> + +<p>Something rose in Boone Wellver's throat, and a strange idea stole, not +facetiously but with reverent sincerity, into his thoughts. He wished it +might have been possible for him to stand there as the clods fell, not +as he stood now in the dress of a gentleman, but in homespun and +butternut, clasping in his tight hands the coon-skin cap that his +boyhood had known. For in this gathering, that was like a quiet pageant +of passing eras, he stood for an elder thing than any other here. He +was, in effect, by birth and by beginning, the ancestor of them all, for +he had been born a pioneer!</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The school, which had become a home to Happy Spradling, had grown +marvellously since that day when the old mountaineer wrote with his +donation of rocky acres: "I have heart and cravin' that our young people +may grow better, and I deed my land to a school as long as the +Constitution of the United States stands."</p> + +<p>It was a precarious undertaking with no endowment except its spirit, but +it is not recorded that Elijah went hungry when his commissary was in +the keeping of ravens—for back of the ravens was the Promise.</p> + +<p>From year to year, dependent upon the generosity of those whom its +accomplishments convinced, the school not only existed but grew, and in +order that the springs which fed it might not run dry there were, +several times each year, the "begging trips" of the women who "went +out."</p> + +<p>For that was the phrase they used, just as in all wilderness life it is +the phrase with which men speak of journeys from the solitudes.</p> + +<p>When Miss Shorte went east or west, she carried to the outer world a +living and vivid portraiture of that folk immured behind the ridge and +its elder life. Then somehow the undertakings, absurdly impractical from +a material viewpoint, realized themselves, and a new school building, a +tiny hospital or a needed dormitory rose among the hardwood and the +pines of Marlin County.</p> + +<p>In the fall of 1913 Miss Shorte brought east with her a younger woman +also from the school, to sing for her audiences those quaint +"song-ballets" that sound around smoky mountain hearths to the +accompaniment of banjo and "dulcimore."</p> + +<p>Because no dollar could go out from the school's closely guarded +treasury without assurance that it would bring other dollars back, the +experiment of increasing the traveling expenses by including this girl +in the journey to New York had been discussed back of Cedar Mountain +with prayerful earnestness, and the girl herself had greeted the final +decision as one of the great moments of her life.</p> + +<p>Now that girl stood beside the piano a little tremulous with stage +fright as she looked out over an audience more sophisticated than any to +which she had ever sung before. It was in one of the women's university +clubs in the Forties and to her uninitiated eye the light fell on a +confusing display of evening dress and worldly-wise faces full of +self-containment.</p> + +<p>They would listen with politeness but how could her offering interest +these men and women to whom great voices were familiar? Hers was +untrained and the songs were crude vehicles for folk-lore compositions, +plaintive with uncultivated minors.</p> + +<p>That elderly gentleman, sitting far back near the door, had been +identified to her in a whisper. He was a music critic whose word carried +the force of authority—and she wondered if he sat near the exit with +thought of escape from her inflictions. Just now he was writing a series +of magazine articles on folk-lore music in America, and the girl felt +herself the subject of a cold experiment in mental vivisection.</p> + +<p>The lady with the white pompadour was one whose name she had known with +awe on the school's list of patronesses and even here in New York it was +a great name.</p> + +<p>The mountain singer's knees trembled a little as the accompanist struck +the keys, and her first note stole out, sweetly clear and naturally +fresh.</p> + +<p>She finished her first song and retreated to her chair on the platform, +wishing that there had been a trap-door through which she might have +escaped that barrage of human sight.</p> + +<p>Then her glance caught the elderly man with the great reputation in the +music world. He had not yet fled. He was making notes on a scrap of +paper and his keenly alert, finely chiselled face wore the expression of +unmistakable interest. The singer glanced at the white-haired lady—the +great Mrs. Ariton—and she read "well-done, my child," in a smile of +moist eyes.</p> + +<p>She could not know that there was a direct simplicity of pathos and +artless humour in her ballads, borne on a bird-like sweetness of voice, +to the hearts of these people. She could not know that she was bringing +to the touch of their sympathy phrases and forms that had seemed as +remote and unreal as lines from Chaucer and Shakespeare.</p> + +<p>Yet, because it was all so new and strange, the air seemed heavy to her +with a terrifying formality, as the incense laden atmosphere of a +cathedral might have been. So she looked, as she rose to sing again, for +the comforting presence of some face that might reassure her with a +kin-ship of human simplicity.</p> + +<p>Then she saw slip quietly through the entrance door, and drop into a +seat near the critic, a young woman who was unaccompanied and who, at +first glance, seemed to carry in her fine eyes the burthen of habitual +weariness.</p> + +<p>These eyes were deeply violet and though sadness haunted them and +bespoke ghosts that stirred uneasily and often back in their depths they +still held the hint of fires that had flashed, once, into gay and +spontaneous whimseys. The singer had a momentary sense of looking at a +face made for gracious and merry expressions, but drawn into the short +and desperate outlook of one who has fallen into deep and angry waters, +and who can see nothing ahead beyond the struggle to keep afloat.</p> + +<p>The newcomer was tall and slender, even thin, but there was still an +intrinsic gallantry about the swing of her shoulders that made one think +of invincible qualities, though the plain severity of her clothing +brought into that contrasting company the undeniable assertion of +poverty.</p> + +<p>The singer finished her ballad and once again went back to her chair. +This time with a diminished diffidence. She was thinking about the other +young woman at the back who looked poor and sick and who, in spite of +these things, gave her an indescribable impression of distinction. The +two of them, thought the mountain girl, had a bond of sympathy in that +they were each set quite apart from all these others unified by the +stamp of affluence.</p> + +<p>Miss Shorte was talking now; telling the story of the school and its +work; flashing before her hearers as if her words were pictures imbued +with colour and form, the patriarchal conditions with which this work +was surrounded. Laughter interrupted her lighter recitals, and when she +spoke of graver phases there was that light clearing of throats that +carries from an audience to a stage the proclamation of stirred emotion, +and of tears not far from the surface.</p> + +<p>The speaker gave a few illustrations of the sort of manhood and +womanhood that is sometimes wrought out of that crude ore when the +tempering of help and education is available to refine it.</p> + +<p>Lincoln had sprung from such stock. Even now the member in Congress from +that district was a man born in a log shack of illiterate parents. He +had fought feudal animosities and gone upward by a rugged ascent. Now +he was recognized by his colleagues as a man of ability and breadth. So +far had he outgrown the strictures of provincialism, that he was a +member of the Foreign Relations Committee. But better than that his own +people swore by him because they knew "their lives and deaths were his +to him"—because in a land where men had been afraid to serve on juries +and to enforce the law, they were no longer afraid.</p> + +<p>The school sought to develop other Boone Wellvers from the same +beginnings ... to help others toward a similar fulfilment.</p> + +<p>The musical critic heard a faint gasping breath from the chair at his +side. He turned quickly and was startled by the pale, emotion-drawn face +of the young woman who sat there without escort. For an instant he +thought that some poor creature actually pinched by want had crept in, +attracted by the light and warmth for a brief interval of rest, then he +looked with a more piercing appraisement at the features and discarded +that idea.</p> + +<p>"Are you ill?" he demanded in a low voice. "Can I serve you?"</p> + +<p>The young woman shook her head and forced a smile whose graciousness +must have come less from conscious effort than from life habit.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," she answered in a low voice that had meaning to one who +knew music wherever he found it. "It was nothing ... I came late ... who +is the girl who sang?"</p> + +<p>"She was introduced as Miss Happy Spradling," said the critic.</p> + +<p>His questioner's hands were at her sides where he did not see them +tighten convulsively, but he saw the pale cheeks go a shade whiter and +wondered if she was going to faint.</p> + +<p>She did not faint, and though through the course of the evening the +elderly man found time, more than once, to turn his friendly glance of +solicitude her way he did not again intervene with questions. Clearly +this young woman, whatever the cause, was in a condition of nerves that +might mean skirting the precipitous edge of collapse. Clearly too she +had that fortitude which can resist and after a shock bring itself back +to the poise of equilibrium. What had shocked her? He could not guess, +but he knew that in the depleted condition that her pale cheeks and +thinness argued, unaccountable trifles may assume the gravity of a +crisis. And besides the critic found his attention and interest +elsewhere engaged. That other girl who was singing claimed them both. +She was having a little triumph there on the platform beside the piano. +On her smooth, dark face was a pink flush and her deep eyes glowed with +pleasure for the enthusiasm that had capped the cordiality of her +reception.</p> + +<p>When the program came to its end the audience in large part gathered +about the platform and the meeting resolved itself into an informal +reception. Among the first to go forward was the critic and as he rose, +noticing a struggle between eagerness and hesitation in the violet eyes +of his chance neighbour, he yielded to an impulse of the moment.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go up together," he smiled, "and introduce each other? I have +a question or two to ask her?"</p> + +<p>But the girl shook her head. She had started nervously at the question +as though in realization that he had read her thoughts and as if she had +not wished them to be readable.</p> + +<p>Still when he had left her she lingered in the door before she turned +out to the street as if some strong magnetism sought to draw her into +the group about the speaker and singer—a group in which her clothes +would have been conspicuous. Finally she turned and left and went +outside, where the obscurity was more merciful.</p> + +<p>Her course took her southward and eastward and brought her at last to a +building that loomed large and dark now, but which in daylight sounded +to the shouts of immigrant children whose voices might have rung in the +sun-yellowed bazaars of Levantine towns or about the moujik habitations +of Russia. It was one of the settlement schools of the East Side where +the strident grind of the elevated was never silent, and in a small and +very bare room the girl took off her hat and coat. She was one of the +least important of the women who conducted the affairs of this mission +school. Its assembly rooms, <i>crêches</i> and diet kitchens constituted her +present world.</p> + +<p>They had said that there was nothing she could do—a society girl with a +drawing room and hunting field equipment—and only the All-seeing and +herself knew how near true it had proven.</p> + +<p>All these years, she reflected with a smile of self-derision, she had +harboured the thought of this mountain girl, caricatured by imagination +into a bare-foot sloven, before whose vulgar charms Boone's loyalty had +discreditably wavered. Now she had seen that girl and the dimensions of +her own injustice loomed in exaggeration before her self-accusation.</p> + +<p>For a long while Anne Masters sat there in her bare room. Often she had +wondered whether she could go on enduring the strain of a life that had +emptied out all its fulness and become pinched and aching. It seemed to +her that now she stood as one having touched the depths and the fine +quality of her courage was not far from disintegration.</p> + +<p>A great and hungry impulse filled her. She wanted to talk to Happy +Spradling—to talk to her under an assumed name—and to lay to the +bruises about her heart the solace of hearing something of those hills +she had once loved so intensely—something of the man who was now a +member of the Foreign Relations Committee of Congress! The wish grew +into an obsession and when, toward daylight, sleep came fitfully, it +wove itself into the troubled pattern of her dreams.</p> + +<p>There were many reasons why she should repress that desire. If Happy +learned who she was, the secret of her hiding would be penetrated, and +she would show herself as conquered.</p> + +<p>Yet the next day when the time came that gave her leisure from her +duties she went again, invincibly drawn, to the University Club in the +Forties.</p> + +<p>Opposite the door, and across the street, she paused, holding herself +hard in hand against a tidal sweeping of emotions, and as she stood +there she saw the door open and Mrs. Ariton come out, followed by Happy. +The two crossed the sidewalk to the curb and stepped into the great +lady's limousine.</p> + +<p>Anne still hesitated, then she shook her head and turned resolutely +away. The car rolled forward and rounded a corner, and the one possible +association with a part of Anne's old world was lost.</p> + +<p>Anne herself went over to the avenue and climbed to the roof of a bus.</p> + +<p>On the way downtown as the traffic crowded, the limousine and the +omnibus passed and repassed each other. It was a frostily clear forenoon +with Fifth Avenue sparkling like a string of jewel beads, and sometimes +Anne could see Happy's face thrust out with wonderment written large +upon its features. To her it was all new: this miracle of a city of +millions. Her heart was fluttering to the first sight of that tide of +men and motors; that crest-pluming of wealth and undertow of misery; +that gaiety and tragedy that rolls in vigour and in poison along a +mighty urban artery.</p> + +<p>But Anne felt like a fragment of flotsam carried hopelessly on the +current.</p> + +<p>When the limousine had turned into a side street of dignified old +houses, Anne rode on, and leaving the bus made her way on foot through +meaner streets where the smell of garlic hung pervasive and the +gutturals of Slavic speech came from bearded and beady eyed faces. She +went through the East Side's warrens of congestion and poverty, +slipping through crowds of shawled and haggling women who elbowed about +push-carts.</p> + +<p>Yet when she had time to retreat again to the sanctuary of her own small +room, Anne felt that an element of augmented strength had come to her, +as if she had caught a breath of the laurel bloom from Slag-face through +the stenches and the jargons.</p> + +<p>"If I can hold out," she told herself, "if I can only hold out, I'll +have my self-respect!" After a moment she added, "She will probably see +him soon, but she can't tell him she saw me—because she doesn't know +it."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV</h2> + + +<p>Uncle Billy Taulbee's store had stood for a half century in the shade of +mighty sycamores, where a trickle of water glinted over pebble and +shale, worn hub-deep into wheel-ruts. Except when the spring thaws +carried a tawny flood up almost to the edge of his doorstep and the +"tide" had right of way, that creek bed and the sandy lane angling +across it constituted the junction of the Smoky Hollow Road and that +debouching over to "The left hand fork of Nighway Creek." Roundabout it +were streamlets with pools where, in season, the mountain trout leaped +and darted in shimmering flashes, and to the store one summer noon came +two hungry fishermen from the lowlands. They sat on cracker boxes, +eating canned peaches and "Vienny" sausages, encouraging the keen-eyed +old storekeeper to talk and plying him with questions as to what his +coal royalties had run to on this tract and what on that, in the space +of the past few years. With neither boast nor evasion, the old man +answered them.</p> + +<p>"But, heavens above, Uncle Billy," exclaimed one of the visitors—(for +every man and child called him Uncle Billy—"An' I reckon," he said, +"ther houn-dawgs would too, if so be they had ther gift of speech"). +"Heavens above, if you go on making money like that you'll be able to +sign a check for a million dollars before you end up!"</p> + +<p>The storekeeper fished from the pocket of cotton overalls some crumbs of +"natural leaf" to rub between his leathery palms, and thrust them +greedily between his white-stubbled lips.</p> + +<p>"I reckon, son," he answered drily as he once more shoved forward along +the counter the tin of crackers, "ef so be thar was any sich-like need, +I could back a bank-check fer thet much money terday."</p> + +<p>His visitors sat up agaze, with "Vienny" sausages poised between tin-can +and lip, dripping grease on their khaki-clad knees.</p> + +<p>At last one of them inquired in a dazed voice, "But why don't you live +like a rich man, Uncle Billy? Aren't you sick of this God-forsaken +desolation?"</p> + +<p>Uncle Billy leaned with his elbows on his counter and seemed to be +giving the question judicial reflection. Finally he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"A man's right apt ter weary of anything in due time, but I've always +lived hyar. I wouldn't hardly hev no ease in my mind no-whars else, I +reckon. I leaves all thet newfangled business ter my children an' +gran'children and I follers in the track of my fore-parents my own +self." He paused, then added with a note of defensive pride:</p> + +<p>"Not thet I denies myself nothin' though. My old woman's got a brussels +cyarpet on ther floor upsta'rs right now an' a pianner thet hit tuck +four yoke of oxen ter team acrost ther mountings from ther railroad +cars."</p> + +<p>"Would she play it for us, Uncle Billy?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al she kain't jest ter say play hit, yit, but she aims ter git +somebody ter l'arn her how some day—She l'arnt readin' an' writin' when +she war past three score."</p> + +<p>Back in Marlin Town—a town now boasting sidewalks of concrete and a new +brick station, the fishermen saw the columned and porticoed mansions of +the old man's sons—and their thoughts went back to the store with its +bolts of calico, its harness, and above it the living quarters where +these children had been born.</p> + +<p>For the wealth of that county in coal had brought spurs of railroads +bristling into pockets of the wilderness where there had hardly been +"critter trails," and overnight fortunes had sprung into being. Moneyed +interests that centered there would have made the young attorney, who +was also the district's member in Congress, something more than a local +representative, had he not chosen to represent the native holders and to +stand as a buffer between their unsophistication and their would-be +exploiters. But if Boone could set his name to no million-dollar checks +or build himself no colonial mansions, more practice came to the office +where his shingle hung than he and his two new associates could handle.</p> + +<p>In other newly developed sections, Boone had seen the native exploited +and embittered. It had been his care that when prosperity came into +Marlin it should come as a blessing to the hill dwellers and not as a +curse. To that end he had locked horns with some adroit and powerful +adversaries, outriders of capital who would have been bandits had the +way lain open. They had first laughed at him, then resolved to crush him +and in the end sought to propitiate him. Finally they gave him his half +of the road and shook their heads in wonderment because he chose the way +of folly and refused to be made deviously rich.</p> + +<p>To each new advance he had had one answer: "I belong to these people, +gentlemen. They must be fairly dealt with."</p> + +<p>And yet while these mighty transitions worked themselves into being, the +alchemy of the Midas touch left life unchanged back of Cedar Mountain +itself. The brooding range threw its cordon of peaks across the tide of +development and turned it right and left. Not until the many fields +lying virgin and accessible had been worked out, would capital need to +wrestle with engineering assaults upon those sky-high barriers of flint.</p> + +<p>And with fidelity to history's ironic precedent, the man whose dream had +been strong in a world of doubters stood by unbenefited, while others +who had not known the nature of a vision reaped wealth. For Larry +Masters had thrown his initial winnings into other speculative +properties. He was the gambler who had won a large bet, and whose +ambition straightway burns to "break the bank." He had bought land in +his own right on a rising tide of values, and he had seen his own veins +of coal narrow to nothing, until his engineers had "pulled the pillars" +and abandoned the lodes. Finding himself ill omened and fallen on desert +spots in a land of oases, he had closed his bungalow in disgust and +taken a salaried position with an oil concern operating in Mexico.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Sometimes there comes into a Kentucky midsummer a strayed touch of +autumn. Then while the woods stand freckled and the ironweed waves its +sprays of dusty purple, a touch of languor steals into the sky, and the +horizon veils itself with a mist that is sweetly melancholy.</p> + +<p>On such a period, when the sun should have held its dog-day heat, yet +fell in mellow mildness, Boone Wellver sat on a low, hickory-withed +chair outside the door of McCalloway's house.</p> + +<p>He did not require the spell of that indefinable melancholy which lay +along the hilltops to bring home to him a mood of sadness, because for +two weeks he had been here alone with his thoughts. It had been his whim +during that time to isolate himself completely, and to wear, as a man +may wear old clothes or old shoes, the ease of solitude that makes no +demands upon one's conventional self.</p> + +<p>In Washington there was always the need of living before other eyes. +Here he had not even ridden across the ridge for letters or papers.</p> + +<p>At the moment, while the bees droned loudly about him and the mountains +slept in their ancient impassivity, he held on his knees Victor +McCalloway's tin dispatch box, and his eyes were deep with thoughts of +bereavement.</p> + +<p>The veteran had said that, on his death, Boone might turn the key of +that battered receptacle and read the papers which would give him a full +knowledge of the identity of his benefactor.</p> + +<p>Once he had declared, half smilingly and half in earnest:</p> + +<p>"I suppose that at any time you hear nothing of me for five years you +may assume my death." It had been five years now, and more, since he had +left the little world of his hermitage, and no word had come back to +Boone.</p> + +<p>The young man's heart was heavy with loneliness, and as he sat there +alone, he ached to know the secret that had shadowed the life of the man +to whom his devotion was almost an idolatry; the secret that had robbed +of a name one whose past must have been both colourful and tragic.</p> + +<p>In those five years since they had met, Boone had passed the milestones +from the local to the national, and if he held the respect of his +colleagues he owed it all to Victor McCalloway. They said that he was a +man with a broad and national vision. That, too, if it were true, was a +reflection of the soldier's teaching.</p> + +<p>But if McCalloway were to be only a memory, Boone looked forward to a +life almost beggared. There was that solitary strain in his nature which +came perhaps of having attached himself too strongly to a few, +all-important friends. Of these McCalloway had been the chief. A +facetious fellow-member had given Boone a nickname out of Kipling in +coatroom small-talk, and the title had stuck. "Wellver," said the +representative, "is 'the cat that walks by himself, and all places are +alike to him.'"</p> + +<p>Now, if he were not to see his old preceptor again, he must indeed walk +by himself.</p> + +<p>With a drawn brow he thought what eventful years those five had been, +and, looking up at the unchanging hills, laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>The North and South poles had been discovered. Portugal and China had +set up republics on the ashes of monarchy and empire. Diaz, the old +feudist lord of Mexico, had relinquished his powers and dropped out. The +Italian had fought the Ottoman; Europe's cry of "Wolf! wolf!" in the +Balkans had ceased to be an empty alarm and, burning fiercely up and +burning out, had broken again into secondary blazing. Our own armies +were on Mexican soil. In which of these abstract and epochal affairs had +his friend played a part?</p> + +<p>Boone felt, in his heart, a newly comprehended ache for the pathos of +the veteran's life. He could realize, as he had not before realized, the +unsatisfied hungers that must have been always with that solitary +exile—a hunger appeased in part only when under some name not his own +he heard again the call of the bugles and followed the flight of the +war-eagles.</p> + +<p>Manifestly, for all their closeness of thought and companionship, he had +only seen a part of the man McCalloway. There must be facets in the +stone even finer than those he knew, which had never been revealed to +him. He had seen—often—the warmth of affection like the softened glow +of a diamond lying on a jeweller's velvet, and—on occasion—the keen, +cold brightness of unyielding strength, but there must have been, too, +white spurts of blaze almost dazzling in their fierce lustre which it +had taken the battlefield to bring out.</p> + +<p>And these he did not know.</p> + +<p>He had just been reading a paper with which the gentleman had beguiled +many a lonely winter night and which he had left unfinished. It was a +critical analysis of Hector Dinwiddie's career and military thought, +undertaken at the request of Basil Prince.</p> + +<p>Prince himself had been a historian, and yet Boone doubted whether he +could in style or vigour of thought have bettered this casual writing. +As Boone read it, the portrait of a great soldier stood before his eyes. +He had never guessed until then how great a soldier had been cut off by +Dinwiddie's suicide. Now he could perceive why other governments, +governments which might some day meet Britain in the field, had drawn +sighs of relief at his death. So in a greater degree the world had +breathed easier when Bonaparte went to St. Helena.</p> + +<p>Yet of Dinwiddie, McCalloway had not written flatteries. Rather his +portraiture was strong because his brush stroke was so strict and severe +that often it became adverse criticism.</p> + +<p>Boone leaned back and drew from his pocket the key that would unlock an +answer to his questionings. He thrust it into the keyhole and then, as a +spasm of pain crossed his face, hesitated.</p> + +<p>Once he had done that, he should have admitted to himself that he had +abandoned hope, and he realized that he could not bring himself, even +after five years, to that admission.</p> + +<p>For a long while he sat hesitant. A squirrel chattered; a woodpecker +rapped high overhead on a dead limb, and at last the young man thrust +the key back into his pocket and carried the metal strong box into the +house again, unopened.</p> + +<p>Boone had ordained it as his law that when thoughts of Anne came into +his mind, he would not entertain them; that a seal had been placed on +those closed pages of his experience; but it was a law which he had no +power of enforcing on his heart, and as he came out again into the +sunlight he was thinking of her.</p> + +<p>He had never known in its true baldness the dependence of mother and +daughter upon the bounteous generosity of their kinsman, and without +that knowledge he had not guessed that Anne's departure from Louisville +had been an adventure, daring everything.</p> + +<p>All that he knew, or fancied he knew, was that even when she had broken +with Morgan she had felt no need of him, and it had been her callous +wish to live as if she had never known him. Since love is set in the +most delicate and intricate bearings of life, and holds in its own core +the possibilities of hate, he fancied that he felt for the Anne Masters +of his past adoration the present contempt due a woman who had been able +only to trifle with a life she had shaped. Because, too, she had once +saved that life from its threatened smirching, the gratitude which +might have been his most treasured sentiment became to him an +intolerable obligation.</p> + +<p>Standing there by the door, the man's face darkened, until for the +moment it wore again the sombre and sullen hate that had marred its +boyhood. The hands at his side closed into fists, and looking off across +the hills, he said aloud:</p> + +<p>"It was a dream that well-nigh wrecked me. I never want to see her or +hear of her again!"</p> + +<p>But after a moment the bitterness turned to longing, and with an +indignant voice, as though denouncing an enemy who stood before him, he +broke out tempestuously: "That's a lie! You love her.... You always +will!"</p> + +<p>Then around the abrupt turn of the road came a horseman, and Boone +recognized him, with astonishment, as Morgan Wallifarro, dust-covered +and mounted on a livery beast.</p> + +<p>But the Morgan who dismounted by the rail fence wore a face aged in a +fashion that startled Boone. He was not the kidney that burns out in a +few years of strenuosity, but a man with a mind of steel and a body of +whipcord, and now his eyes were lined and ringed as they should not have +been until his hair had turned white.</p> + +<p>Boone supposed that some matter of party consultation had brought his +unannounced guest, since they were both now men of leadership, so he +inquired, after they had shaken hands:</p> + +<p>"Is it politics, Morgan?"</p> + +<p>Wallifarro nodded.</p> + +<p>"In part that," he answered slowly, "but it's hard to pin one's mind +down to party details today, Boone. It's like whistling a petty tune +into the teeth of a hurricane."</p> + +<p>"Hurricane?" Boone repeated the final word in a puzzled tone. "I don't +follow you."</p> + +<p>"My God, man," exclaimed the other, in sheer and undisguised amazement, +"don't you know?"</p> + +<p>"Know what? Remember that I've been in the backwoods for three weeks," +smiled the hillsman, "and I haven't seen a paper for ten days."</p> + +<p>Again for a moment the Louisville lawyer stood incredulously silent; +then he said sharply:</p> + +<p>"The war.... It's four days old and more.... Austria, Servia, Germany, +Russia, France! They are all in it—and yesterday England came in."</p> + +<p>The face of the member of the Foreign Affairs Committee wore a stunned +blankness, and the blood went out of it. From the tree across the road +the woodpecker began once more his hammering, and about the hoofs of the +hitched horse drifted a cloud of pale-yellow butterflies.</p> + +<p>Finally Boone asked in a husky voice: "What of us?"</p> + +<p>Morgan shook his head. "Two weeks ago," he said, "the whole thing was a +sheer impossibility.... Now anything is possible."</p> + +<p>Boone's mind had flashed back to McCalloway's prophecy.... "When that +message of merging and common cause comes, it will come not on the wings +of peace but belched from the mouths of guns—riding the gales of war."</p> + +<p>"You are tired and hot," he found himself saying. "Let's go inside."</p> + +<p>Later the mountain man reminded his guest: "But you came on another +errand. What was it?"</p> + +<p>Morgan, who had been seated, rose and paced the floor with his mouth +tight drawn, and then stopping before his host, he broke out bluntly: +"Once before, Boone, we talked about <i>her</i>. Now we must do it again."</p> + +<p>Boone's shoulders stiffened, and his face froze into an unresponsive +reserve. Even with McCalloway he had not been able to discuss Anne, and +with Morgan it was impossible.</p> + +<p>"Morgan," he answered very deliberately and guardedly, "it was Anne's +wish to eliminate me from her scheme of things. To that wish I bowed, +and what is sealed must remain sealed. In all candour—I can't talk of +her."</p> + +<p>"Can't talk of her!" Through the strained composure of Morgan's manner +darted a flash of the old electric force. "When she may be suffering +actual hunger, and you might help! Can you afford to say you can't talk +of her?"</p> + +<p>"Hunger? Help?" Boone's voice was one of deadly tenseness. "My God, man, +don't bait me with words like that unless you mean them—and, if you do, +don't waste time!"</p> + +<p>For the first time the mountain man learned how Anne had burned her +bridges behind her and disappeared from her own world; how so +resourceful a lawyer as Morgan, employing every agency at his command, +had failed to learn anything of her or her circumstances.</p> + +<p>"It is as if," went on the lawyer desperately, "she had gone out of some +cabin in a frozen wilderness—without provisions, without even matches +or an axe, and God knows what she found there!"</p> + +<p>The two Kentuckians stood gazing into each other's eyes across the table +that lay between them. Upon the temples of each glistened beads of +terror sweat. With the suddenness of revelation, Boone Wellver saw the +falsity of all his bitter and fallacious judgments, and the love that he +had denied swept over him with the onrush of an avalanche. Then he heard +Morgan again:</p> + +<p>"Between us—somehow we managed to do this for her. From babyhood she +was under a coercion that neither of us appreciated. I don't know what +parted you—but I know that I love her enough to be happy if I could see +her married to you—and safe. I've hunted her and I haven't found her. +Perhaps she has hidden purposely from me. Perhaps she <i>wouldn't</i> hide +from you—"</p> + +<p>Boone raised a hand, and it fell limply at his side. He dropped abruptly +into a chair and cradled his face on his bent forearms. But after a +short while he rose, lividly colourless of check, and said:</p> + +<p>"I'll ride back with you. I'm going to New York to find her."</p> + +<p>But when he had been a month in New York he knew as little as when he +had come.</p> + +<p>One morning he read a brief item hidden away on an inside page of his +newspaper. A young woman had taken gas in a boarding house in the +Forties. She had been there only a few days and, save by the name she +had given, was unknown. A few dollars in change had been found in her +bedroom, but no letters or identifying data. She was tall, well dressed, +and had been beautiful. Her body lay, awaiting claim, in an undertaker's +shop of given address. In default of identification, it would be turned +over for burial among the pauper dead.</p> + +<p>Boone Wellver dropped the paper and went stumblingly across his room for +his hat. At his door he paused to steady the palsy that had seized him. +In his mind he was seeing a little girl at a Christmas dance, in a hall +where the tempered glow of mahogany and silver awoke to the tiny fires +of candle-light.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV</h2> + + +<p>As Boone's taxi wrenched its way uptown, threading jerkily in and out +between the pillars of the Sixth Avenue Elevated, he sought vainly to +close the sluice gates of fear and hold his equilibrium by a +self-hypnosis of arrested thought.</p> + +<p>But words of newsprint broke through this factitious barrier. The "brown +hair" of the reportorial description might be the same that McCalloway +had called a disputed dominion along the border land of gold and brown. +The "evidences of former beauty" might be an unappreciative appraisement +of <i>her</i>, badgered by misfortunes to her death.</p> + +<p>Standing at last on the curb before the undertaker's establishment, +Boone had to be reminded to pay his fare, because his attention dwelt +with a morbid fascination on the gilt words, "Funeral Directors and +Embalmers," etched on the black plate glass of the windows.</p> + +<p>After an appreciable interval of struggle with panic, he drew himself +together and went in through the open door, becoming instantly conscious +of a subtle, chemical odour.</p> + +<p>From his newspaper a man in broadly patterned green and lavender +shirt-sleeves lifted his eyes without rising. On the desk beside him, +however, ready at notice to convert him from the liveliness of colour +which in private life he fancied to the sable formality of his art, +stood celluloid cuffs and a made-up tie as black and sober as his +caskets.</p> + +<p>"I am an attorney," said Boone curtly. "I came to see if—" He broke off +and, proffering the newspaper clipping, made a fresh beginning: "To see +if I could identify her."</p> + +<p>Then the proprietor rose and, not deeming it essential, for that +occasion, to cover the fitful pattern of his shirt, led the way to the +back of the place, nursing a cigar stump between his fingers. The +heightened beating of Boone's temples was as though with small, +insistent knuckles all his imprisoned emotions were rapping against his +skull for liberation, and when the undertaker swung open one of several +doors along a narrow and darkened hallway, he found himself halting like +a frightened child. The motor centres of his nerves mutinied, so that it +seemed a labour of Hercules to force his balking foot across the +threshold, and when he saw that the room was too dark for recognition a +gasp of relief broke from his tight-pressed lips as if in gratitude for +even so momentary a reprieve.</p> + +<p>"Stand right there," directed the matter-of-fact voice of his conductor; +"I'll switch on the light."</p> + +<p>Boone Wellver was trembling, with a chill dampness on his forehead and +hair. He struggled against the powerful impulse to beg another minute of +unconfirmed fear. Then the light flashed, and Boone started as an +incoherent sound came from him which might have meant anything—the +muscular expulsion of breath deep held and the relaxation of a cramped +throat.</p> + +<p>The girl, who lay there, was very slender, and the still features were +delicately chiselled. She had been, as the clipping stated, in a fashion +beautiful, but it was not Anne's beauty.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the ivory whiteness and the wan thinness of the crossed hands +were the attributes of death rather than of the living girl. Most of all +he felt, with an awed appreciation, the serene and calm courage written +on the lifeless features. He had tried to reassure himself in advance +that it could not be Anne, because Anne's courage would not seek the +coward's escape of self-destruction. Now he could no longer reconcile +any idea of cowardice with that sweet tranquillity.</p> + +<p>"She must of caught her lip in her teeth," the undertaker interrupted +his reflections to inform him. "She took gas, you know, and sometimes +just at the last there's a little struggle against it."</p> + +<p>The Kentuckian nodded silently, and the proprietor went on: "I take it +she's not the party you were looking for, then?"</p> + +<p>"No." The response was brusque, and with a sudden craving for the outer +air, Boone turned on his heel to go—but stopped again inside the +threshold. "If relatives don't claim her," he said, "I want her to have +a private burial. Arrange the details—and look to me for settlement."</p> + +<p>In the office stood a little man, gray and poorly dressed, yet with that +attempt at fashion that strives through shabbiness after at least an +echo of smart effect.</p> + +<p>"I have come to learn when this poor child is to be buried, gentlemen," +he began, with that ready emotion which is easily stirred and runs to +volubility. "I didn't know her until a few days ago, when she took a +small room in the house where I board. She kept to herself, but her +manner was sunny and gracious, and her refinement was a matter of +comment among us. None of us suspected that she was contemplating—this! +I passed her in the hallway the night before it happened, and she smiled +at me."</p> + +<p>Boone sat afterward in the dreary little mortuary chapel while a +clergyman whom, the undertaker said, "came in in these cases," +performed, with the perfunctoriness of routine, the services for the +dead. Later, still with the gray little man at his side, the Kentuckian +drove in the one cab that followed the hearse to a Brooklyn cemetery +where Boone had paid for a grave. The little man, it seemed, had been a +character actor and, from his own testimony, one of ability beyond the +appreciation of a flippant present.</p> + +<p>Their mission today recalled to his mind others of like nature, and as +he talked of them, enlarging upon the piteous helplessness of young +women whose gentle natures are unequipped for the predatory struggles of +a city where one does not know one's next-door neighbour, Boone's +anxieties grew heavier.</p> + +<p>Those months of unavailing search stood always out luridly in his +memory, and because his search was a thing that could accommodate +itself to no rule except to follow faint trails into all sorts of +places, he grew to an astonishing familiarity with parts at least of the +town whose boast it is that no man knows it.</p> + +<p>It was natural that he should take up his own quarters near Greenwich +Village, where the fringes of the town's self-styled bohemia trail off +from Washington Square. There, with all its eccentricities and +absurdities, effort dwelt side by side with dilettante anarchy, and +strugglers with definite goals brushed shoulders with the "brittle +intellectuals that crack beneath a strain."</p> + +<p>He grew to know some of the sincere workers of this American <i>Quartier +Latin</i> and some exponents of affectation-ridden cults who travesty life +and the arts under creeds of pathetically shallow pretence.</p> + +<p>But these things, though absorbed into observation were small, +foreground details of Boone's life at that time. The motif of the +picture was the vain search for Anne Masters, and the whole was drawn +against the sombre and colossal background of the war itself. For in +those epic months was fought the First Battle of the Marne. In them +Hindenburg emerged from the obscurity of retirement to drive the Russian +hordes back from East Prussia, and, most tragic of all, the flood was +sweeping across Belgium.</p> + +<p>If he could think little of other matters than the girl he loved and had +come to seek, neither could the spirit that McCalloway had shaped ever +quite escape a deep feeling of the war, like an incessant rolling of +distant and sinister drums.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In the spring of 1916 the legations and embassies at Washington had +their birds of passage. They were neither secretaries nor attachés in +precise definition, yet men vouched for by their chiefs. Uniforms +bloomed, and among the visitors were those who wore scars and +decorations. To this category belonged the Russian Ivangoroff, and +between him and Boone Wellver sprang up a friendship which, if not +intimate, was certainly more than casual.</p> + +<p>Ivangoroff was young, tall and electric with energy. Animation snapped +and sparkled in his dark eyes; it broke into a score of expressive +gestures that enlivened his words: it manifested itself in quick +movements and a freshet flow of unflagging conversation.</p> + +<p>It puzzled Boone that, though he was some sort of adjunct to the Russian +Embassy, his gossip of intrigue at the Court of Petrograd should, on +occasion, permit itself a seemingly unguarded candour.</p> + +<p>One evening, as the two sat together at dinner, the Kentuckian made bold +to suggest something of the sort, and his companion laughed with an +infectious spontaneity that bared the flash of his white teeth.</p> + +<p>"Even at the court itself talk is quite frank," he declared. "Every +dinner party is a small cabal. What would you, with a German army +hammering at our front and a German influence infecting those about the +Tzarina?"</p> + +<p>"But surely," expostulated the congressman, "you can't be serious. How +can an enemy influence survive at a belligerent capital?"</p> + +<p>Ivangoroff shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You call it incredible, yet because of that influence the greatest +soldier in Europe was stripped of his powers as commander-in-chief and +exiled to a nominal viceregency in the Caucasus."</p> + +<p>Boone leaned forward, his attention challenged.</p> + +<p>"You mean the Grand Duke Nicholas?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You ask how such things can be. I can reply only that they are."</p> + +<p>The Russian raised his hands and let them fall in a gesture of one who +expresses disgust for the unalterable.</p> + +<p>"And yet what would you?" he demanded. "If a weak monarch is torn +between a genuine love, almost an idolatry, for a stronger man, and a +carefully fostered fear of him? If, while the soldier is in the field, +there are those at home who every day are whispering into the anxious, +imperial ear that his great kinsman will presently overshadow and +replace him, what are the probabilities? With the Empress ruling her +consort, and herself being ruled by a closet cabinet of women and monks, +what else was possible than that the captain who was busy stemming the +outer enemy should fall before the inner enemy?"</p> + +<p>"And," mused Boone thoughtfully, "there were few who could not have been +better spared."</p> + +<p>"My friend," asserted the Russian, "the world does not yet appreciate +the Grand Duke's measure. In retrospect history will devote some pages +to his achievements. She will canonize the magnificent ability and the +grim courage with which he fought on without support, without munitions, +crying out for the metal which did not come, and vainly demanding the +death of traitors at home whose failure to supply him was eating up his +armies. She will celebrate an orderly retirement which under other +leadership would have been a rout: the reluctant giving back of hosts +that were interposing bare breasts to artillery. As for the Tzar's +jealous fears—bah!"</p> + +<p>The speaker paused to light a cigarette, and from it puffed nervous +clouds of brown smoke through his nostrils.</p> + +<p>"I was at the Moghileff headquarters," he resumed, "when the Tzar +arrived to take into his own hands the duties that those stronger hands +had held. What took place between the two Romanoffs, I cannot tell you. +My place was not inside those doors ... but at the end I saw them both."</p> + +<p>Again the narrative broke in a pause, and the bright, dark eyes of the +Russian sobered into reflectiveness and pain.</p> + +<p>"You have seen his pictures? Nicholas Nicholaivitch, I mean? Yes, of +course; but they fail to give the adequate impression: the tall, gaunt +power of the figure; the dauntless eagle pride of the eye and stern +sadness of the mouth; the noble dignity of bearing! When the Tzar stood +with him at the railway station bidding him farewell, it was the eyes +of the monarch that held incertitude and tears. It was the Tzar who was +shaken with the wish to undo what he had done, yet who lacked the +resolution."</p> + +<p>For a little while the two men sat over their coffee, and even the +voluble animation of the Russian was stilled; then, as the talk drifted, +chance guided it to the topic of army caste.</p> + +<p>"Generally speaking, we are officers or men by heredity—yet anything +can happen in Russia," declared Ivangoroff, "when a peasant monk can +gain a hold like Rasputin's at court!" He paused, then laughed. "I even +know of one man who came to the Grand Duke's headquarters in civilian +garb—who was not a Russian—who was unknown. He secured an audience, +and ten days later found him a member of the leader's personal staff—a +confidant of the Commander-in-Chief!"</p> + +<p>Boone raised his brows. It occurred to him that this highly entertaining +companion might be more vivacious than authentic, and he murmured some +expression of interest.</p> + +<p>"Read your dispatches," said the Russian. "Occasionally you will find +there the name of one General Makailoff. It is not a name you will have +seen in our army matters before this war. True, one could look at this +man and know that he was a soldier, yet he was a foreigner, and it was +at a time when spy-ridden Russia distrusted every one. He went into the +Commander-in-Chief's presence. He said something to the +Commander-in-Chief, which no one else heard. He came out an officer on +the staff."</p> + +<p>With a sudden flash of deeper interest that made his words eager, Boone +bent across the table. "Tell me," he demanded, "what was his +appearance?"</p> + +<p>"It interests you?" laughed Ivangoroff. "Naturally, because it has the +essence of drama, has it not? He is tall and spare, with a florid face +and gray temples. He is hard-bitten and leather-tanned, as a soldier +should be, and in his eye, a gray-blue eye, dwells a quality which one +does not find in common eyes."</p> + +<p>"And when the Grand Duke went into his retirement in the Caucasus—what +became of this other soldier?"</p> + +<p>"That I cannot say. I fancy, judging from what I know of Nicholas +Nicholaivitch, that he did not waste this man. I should hazard the guess +that he passed him on to another commander—perhaps to Alexieff—perhaps +to Brussilov."</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything more about General Makailoff?" The Kentuckian +sought to clothe his question in the casual tone of ordinary interest, +but as he lighted a cigar his fingers held a tremour.</p> + +<p>Ivangoroff shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Of course there was mess-table talk—but that is always the gauziest +myth. Perhaps you know the fable that is told in all European armies of +the ghost general?"</p> + +<p>"No, I've never heard it."</p> + +<p>"The story runs that there is a certain man of extraordinary military +genius—genius of the first class—who is not so much a soldier of +fortune as a super-soldier. In peace times no army knows him. No +government owns him. He disappears as does the storm petrel when the sea +is quiet. But when the tempest breaks and the need arises for a leader +beyond small leaders—then, under a new name each time, this +ghost-commander reappears. You see, they make the story a good one. Mess +tables have embellished and elaborated it with much retelling over their +wine glasses. It is even said that the mystery man fights on the +righteous side and brings victory." The Russian lighted a fresh +cigarette and naïvely observed, "When we fought Japan, however, he was +reported to be against us, guiding the hand of Kuroki. When Savoff +defeated the Turks, it was rumoured that he sat in the Bulgar's +councils. Now"—Ivangoroff laughed—"now it is whispered in Petrograd +and Moscow that he laid his sword at the service of the Grand Duke +Nicholas and stands shoulder to shoulder with the men he fought in +Manchuria."</p> + +<p>The <i>raconteur</i> glanced at his wrist watch and rose hastily.</p> + +<p>"I have overstayed my time," he declared. "It is hard for me to leave +one who suffers me to talk—even when I talk of moonshine gossip like +this."</p> + +<p>But when he had gone, Boone sat for a long while unmoving, and before he +went to his bed that night he had resolved, so soon as his duties freed +him long enough, to undertake a journey to Russia.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI</h2> + + +<p>The snow that had lain along the Appalachian slopes had felt the first +breath of thawing breezes in March, 1917. Here and there, in a +sun-touched hollow, dry twigs grew less brittle and the hint of buds +gave timid forecasting of spring. The roads were deep in red mud and +black mud, and men in ill-lighted cabins looked to crowbar and pike-pole +and made ready for the swelling of the "spring tide" that should heft +their rafted logs on its shoulders of water to the markets of a +flattened world.</p> + +<p>In the log house which Victor McCalloway had built, Boone Wellver was +making his final preparations to go to Washington again—and, after +that, if God willed, to Russia. Upon his wall calendar once more a date +was marked; the date of a call, come at last, for which through two +years his spirit had fretted.</p> + +<p>The President had sent his summons for Congress to gather in +extraordinary session, and that order, given first for April the +sixteenth, had been advanced to April the second. That could carry one +meaning only—that at last the fiction of a national aloofness was to be +cast aside as a garment unworthy of its wearer; that at last the nation +was to take her place at Armageddon!</p> + +<p>Ahead lay action; the only medicine for a deep-rooted sorrow which, +after a grim clinging to the fringe of hope, had begun to admit despair.</p> + +<p>For almost three years Boone had divided himself between his work and +his search for Anne, and his mission had come to seem as far from +attainment as that of the seekers of the Holy Grail. Now he was to be +one of those whose voices should speak for the nation in its declaration +of war.</p> + +<p>That would not be enough. It would be only a beginning of his +self-required service, but since the well-springs of sentiment were +deeper in his nature than he realized, it was important to him that he, +the pioneer type of American, should join with his modern brethren in +committing his country to her forward stride across the Atlantic.</p> + +<p>The sun was setting over the "Kaintuck' Ridges" in a blazing glory of +wine red and violet, and his imagination flamed responsively until it +saw in the bristle of crest pine and spruce, the silhouette of +lance-bearing legions marching eastward.</p> + +<p>Already his trunk had gone in a neighbour's "jolt wagon," and the horse +that he was to ride across Cedar Mountain was saddled. Other respondents +to that call might motor to their trains. He must make the beginning of +his journey on horseback, with his most immediate needs packed in saddle +bags—as Jefferson had done before him.</p> + +<p>Boone paused at the door of the house, where already the fire had been +quenched and the windows barred. Now he turned the key in the lock and +went slowly to the barn, but even when he had led out his mare and stood +at the stirrup, something held him there with the spell of memory.</p> + +<p>He was not coming back here until he had fulfilled the resolve long ago +made—and since in these days overseas journeys were less simple than in +other times, he could not be sure of coming back at all. So with his +bridle rein over his forearm, he stood for a while with the picture of +the log cabin and the sunset in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Then he mounted and rode slowly away.</p> + +<p>In a few days he was to hear the earnest voice of the President sounding +over the sober faces of his gathered colleagues: "Gentlemen of the +Congress:—I have called the Congress into extraordinary session because +there are serious, very serious, choices to be made, and made +immediately, which it was neither right nor constitutionally permissible +that I should assume the responsibility of making."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Though he came bearing no official mission, because he was a member of +the American Congress and because the United States Ambassador had +exerted himself to that end, Boone Wellver found it possible to leave +revolutionary Petrograd and make his way to the front where, after a +year of successful offensive, the armies of Brussilov lay drugged with +the insidious poison of anarchy.</p> + +<p>Already, "Order Number One to Army" had with a pen-stroke abolished all +the requirements of discipline and all the striking power of unity.</p> + +<p>The marvel was that the heart of the organization had not at once +stopped beating—but old traditions still held the fragments loosely +cemented, and the resolute hand of Brussilov still grasped and steadied +the brittle material left to him in the face of the enemy and disaster.</p> + +<p>If guns still thundered on the eastern front, the men who had for a year +been launching successful assaults knew that their voices were hollow. +If his army groups still maintained a zone of activity between +themselves and the foe, he knew that it was only a screen behind which +he sought to shield the evaporating powers of his forces.</p> + +<p>Yet even in these days the commander adhered to his custom and received +the correspondents, and when Boone came to his headquarters with the +credentials that had passed him that far, he was turned over to an +intelligence officer, whose instructions were to serve him in every way +compatible with military expediency until the general could grant him an +audience.</p> + +<p>He had been motored through a timber-patched country of waving wheat +fields and had listened to the deep voices of the guns. He had been +taken into the trenches where he read the spirit of decay in sullen eyes +that had once been stolidly impassive or cheerfully childlike. He had +seen the "little and terrible keyholes of heaven and hell" through which +one looks, both sickened and exalted, upon modern warfare.</p> + +<p>In his mind, still unassimilated, were countless impressions, gruesome +and inspiring, petty and magnificent, appalling and ennobling; +impressions of broken men and broken villages, of pock-marked country +and unbruised valour. As the battered military car, mud-brown over its +gray, wallowed back from the front lines, he seemed to be leaving the +war behind him, though he knew that he was approaching the nerve centre +from which emanated the impulses which forged and wrought the purposes +of the Inferno.</p> + +<p>Finally in a village less hideously war-spoiled than its fellows, and in +a small but tidy room of what had been the inn, he awaited the pleasure +of the Commander.</p> + +<p>Of his conductor along the front he had put questions as to General +Makailoff. Yes, the officer, of course, knew of the General, but where +he was now he could not say.</p> + +<p>The General was a wheel in the mechanism of Brussilov's staff—and that +directing force was remote from the lives of lower grade officers. It +belonged to the part of the temple which lay behind the veil. Even in +attempted description of the man, the intelligence officer grew vague, +and Boone did not press him for a greater explicitness. That military +reticence that no civilian could justly appraise might be parent to the +officer's indefinite responses, and, if so, its covertness must be +respected.</p> + +<p>So in the room of the Russian inn the man from the Cumberlands waited, +and at length, when he opened his door in response to a light rap, he +saw an officer in a major's uniform, who saluted smartly and announced +in excellent English,</p> + +<p>"General Brussilov will receive you now, sir."</p> + +<p>Again a battered military car lurched through village streets darkening +to twilight, and brought up before a plain two-storied house, whose +walls, though shell marked, stood upright.</p> + +<p>Into a whitewashed room, littered with map-strewn tables, and empty +until they entered it, Boone was ushered and left alone.</p> + +<p>A lamp upon a crude table stood as yet unkindled, and only candles in +two tall sticks on a wall-shelf gave a yellow effect against which the +shadows stirred cloudily.</p> + +<p>Even the whitewashed walls were the gray yellow of putty in that feeble +light, and Boone turned his eyes toward the brighter spot of the door, +giving upon another room, where operators sat at switchboards and where +were mingled the buzz of voices, the tramp of booted feet, the clink of +spurs and accoutrements, into a tempered babel as restlessly constant as +surf on rocks.</p> + +<p>That door was a kaleidoscopic patch of changing colour, and Boone +watched it with a sense of confused unreality until a second opened, +letting in a draught under which the candles wavered and grew more dim, +and a spare figure entered through it, clad in a field uniform which had +seen heavy wear, and holding between the tapering fingers of the left +hand a freshly lighted cigarette.</p> + +<p>Boone had a realization in that first moment of a shadowy shape in a +semi-obscurity, yet out of the dimness, as though they were brightly +painted on a dark canvas, stood clear—or so it seemed to him—the +features of the man and the cross of St. George on his breast.</p> + +<p>Alexieff Brussilov closed the door behind him and inclined his head in +something less casual than a nod and less formal than a bow, and the +flames of the candles rose and steadied as if standing at attention. In +all of Boone's subsequent remembrance of that meeting, it was difficult +for him to unravel the fact from the play of an imagination, more fitful +just then than the candle glimmer, or to dissociate from the impressions +of that moment all that he had known before or learned afterwards of +this man, whose feats of arms he had heard so widely acclaimed.</p> + +<p>Even when the General's voice had broken the silence and they had +exchanged commonplaces, a surge of influences quite apart from his words +seemed to emanate from the erect figure and the stern eyes, as electric +waves flow out from an induction coil.</p> + +<p>Boone questioned himself sternly afterwards and could never answer his +own questioning as to whether he actually felt at that time or only +realized in retrospect the strong impression of doom and heartbreak in +Brussilov's eyes. His story was not yet ended, but he must have known +its end. He was yet to be commander-in-chief for two months of futile +struggle with crumbling armies, succeeding Alexieff, and being himself +supplanted by Korniloff. He was even to essay one more offensive—yet +his inner vision must already recognize the writing on the wall. He must +have seen the black smudge-smoke of disaster stifling the clean fire of +his achievement.</p> + +<p>But Boone knew that the time granted him out of those hours of stress +must not be abused, and as shortly as possible he told the General with +full candour why he had come, and ended by asking that he be presented +to General Makailoff and be allowed to see his face. If in Ivangoroff's +story there had been even a germ of truth, this man of mysterious advent +into the Russian army might well look to his superiors to protect his +secret.</p> + +<p>So Boone made it unmistakably clear that his eagerness was that of a +foster son, and he felt that his testimony needed no corroboration, +because under the searching severity of the eyes which held his own, as +he talked, any falsity must break into betrayal as manifest as a flaw in +crystal.</p> + +<p>When he had finished, Brussilov did not at once reply, and Boone thought +that back of the mask of reserve stirred a shadowing of strong emotion. +At last the General spoke evenly, almost stiffly:</p> + +<p>"As to General Makailoff's former record, I have practically no +knowledge. He came to me from the Grand Duke Nicholas. Naturally I +required nothing more. Of my own knowledge I can declare him a soldier +with few peers in Europe."</p> + +<p>"Then I may have the honour of being presented, sir? I may see his face? +If he is the man I have come to learn of, he will welcome me, I think. +If not, I shall pay my respects and rest under a deep obligation to +you."</p> + +<p>The eager thrill of the civilian's voice was unmistakable, and for a +moment the soldier stood looking into the face of his visitor, seeming +himself uncertain of his answer. But it was only the words of its +couching that troubled him, and presently Brussilov raised a hand and +let it fall while his reply came in few syllables and blunt directness:</p> + +<p>"Makailoff is dead."</p> + +<p>"Dead!" Boone echoed the word with a gasp. Only now did he realize how +strongly the hopes stirred to rebirth by Ivangoroff's fantastic +narrative had laid hold upon him and what power of shock lay in this +<i>dénouement</i>. Then he heard again the voice of Russia's second in +command:</p> + +<p>"It is incredibly strange that you should have come just now—if indeed +he is the man you seek. Thirty-six hours since you might have talked +with him." The General broke off and began afresh with an undertone of +savage protest in his voice: "In these late days when troops may ballot +and wrangle as to whether they will advance or retire, we must squander +our most indispensable. It is only by precept and example that we can +hope to hold them. Makailoff was such a sacrifice. He fell yesterday in +a position as far forward as that of any colonel or major of the line. +Had I been left a free hand, I could have enforced obedience more +cheaply—with machine guns!"</p> + +<p>He broke off and raised the forgotten cigarette to his lips, with an +ironic shrug of his shoulders, while Boone Wellver steadied himself with +an effort.</p> + +<p>"You must make allowances for my impatience, sir," he implored. "The +suspense of uncertainty is hard. May I know at once?"</p> + +<p>Brussilov bowed, and the falcon eyes moderated with the abruptness of a +transformation. "He lies only a few versts from this spot. Tonight we +bury him and fire his last salute.... You shall go with me.... I am +waiting now for—a gentleman, who knew him even better than I. I cannot +say who was more devoted to him, for that, I think, would be +impossible."</p> + +<p>An aide entered, saluted, handed his chief a paper, and went out again. +To Boone it seemed the irritating interruption of an automaton, in boots +of clicking heels that moved on hinges and pivots, but it served to +bring back to the General's attitude and bearing that impersonal and +aloof concentration which for the moment had been lost. Again his eyes +were windows of drawn shades, and as he studied the communication in his +hand, the civilian remembered that, though comrades fell, the task went +on, and its director could not be deflected.</p> + +<p>Beyond the door the noise of the switchboard operators and the tramp of +heavy feet coming and going sounded monotonously through the silence, +and then a second officer entered, saluted, as though he were twin +automaton to the first, and spoke in Russian.</p> + +<p>"You will excuse me for a moment," said the General. "The gentleman of +whom I spoke has arrived."</p> + +<p>He left the room, and Boone remained standing, his gaze wandering, but +his brain singularly numb and inoperative, like stiff machinery, until +he heard footsteps again, and with a conscious effort shook off his +heaviness of torpor. Then quite instinctively his civilian attitude +altered into something like the soldier's attention, as General +Brussilov re-entered with another figure, wrapped to the chin in a heavy +motor coat. The newcomer was not in uniform, yet Boone felt the creep +along his scalp of an electric and dramatic thrill because the giant +height of lean stature, the calmly indomitable bearing and the +indescribable stamp of greatness proclaimed the Grand Duke Nicholas +Nicholaivitch; the man from whose sure grasp the supreme command had +been filched by a jealous weakling; the man who might have saved Russia.</p> + +<p>He was a gray old eagle, whose mighty talons had been clipped and whose +strong pinions had been broken, but the eagle light was in the iris +still and the eagle power in its glance.</p> + +<p>The Kentuckian's thoughts flashed back to the night when life had first +begun to take on colour before his visioning. Then McCalloway and Prince +had named the pitifully few great soldiers of the present, peers of +those who had passed to Valhalla. Were it tonight instead of almost two +decades ago, they must have named this man among the mighty few.</p> + +<p>Boone found himself bowing, then he heard the deep voice of the tall +gentleman saying, "General Brussilov has told me. Let us go at once."</p> + +<p>Under a sky banked with clouds the car which they entered felt its way +along a broken road. Its lights glared on dark masses that leaped out of +the blackness and became lines of exhausted men stumbling rearward, or +carts of wounded bumping toward relief. The throats of the guns bellowed +with a nearer roar, and eventually they halted at another headquarters +and silently passed between saluting officers into a bare room where +candles burned dimly at the head of a coffin and Cossacks stood at +attention, guarding the dead.</p> + +<p>At a low-voiced word from Brussilov the place emptied, save for the +three who looked down on the casket, closed but not yet fastened. Then, +as Boone drank in his breath deeply with a steadying inhalation, the +General lifted the covering and raised his eyes interrogatively toward +the American.</p> + +<p>Boone's lips stirred at first, without sound, then moved again as he +said quietly: "It is he."</p> + +<p>With the last monosyllable, answering to a command of reverence and awe +and stricken grief, he dropped to his knees and knelt beside the casket, +and when at length he looked up—and rose gropingly—the picture of two +elderly soldiers, standing stiff and tight-lipped, stamped itself +ineradicably on his brain. He found himself a minute later fumbling in a +pocket and bringing out a small object from which with slow and +tremulous fingers he removed the tissue paper wrapping.</p> + +<p>His eyes turned first toward the Grand Duke, then toward the General, in +a mute appeal for counsel in a matter of fitness.</p> + +<p>"This is his," he said, with awkward pauses between his word groups; "he +won it in Manchuria.... May I pin it on his breast?"</p> + +<p>"The Japanese decoration of the Rising Sun," said the Grand Duke, +gravely and acquiescently bowing his head. "Why not?"</p> + +<p>Then, turning back his heavy civilian coat, his fingers sought the spot +where should have been the Cross of St. George, and came away empty.</p> + +<p>"I had forgotten," he observed drily, "I no longer wear a uniform—nor +have I any longer the authority. You, Brussilov—with you it is +different."</p> + +<p>So the man who still held precarious reins over a runaway army detached +the clasp of his ornament and pinned the two side by side on the +unstirring breast of the dead man; the emblem of honour he had gained in +war on Russia and that which rewarded the giving of his life to Russia.</p> + +<p>The Grand Duke turned his gaze on Boone Wellver. "Brussilov tells me +that this man was as a father to you ... that you had his permission, +when he was dead, to inspect papers revealing his true identity.... Is +that true?"</p> + +<p>"It is true, sir," came the low reply.</p> + +<p>"Then on my own responsibility I am going to share that secret with +General Brussilov—implicitly trusting his discretion. He"—the tall +Romanoff indicated with a gesture the body of the man who lay dead—"he +told me, when he came to me. He was one of the world's greatest +soldiers. Once before a casket, draped with flags and supposedly +containing his body, was borne to the grave on a gun caisson—and a +court paid tribute." The Grand Duke paused and spoke again in the +manner of one challenging contradiction. "But he was not buried. He had +not died except to the eyes of the world which was his right. His name +was Hector Dinwiddie."</p> + +<p>For a little while no one spoke, and at last Brussilov, with a reverent +hand, lowered the plate over the white face. "Come, gentlemen," he said, +with a brusque masking of agitation, "the burial detachment is ready."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII</h2> + + +<p>With the half-realized familiarity of unplaced features, one face +besides that of his two distinguished companions, declared its existence +to Boone Wellver out of all the faces that set the stage that night. +When they had entered the room where the body lay and the soldiers had +turned and clanked out, they had been as devoid of personal entities as +links in a chain—except one.</p> + +<p>An officer, though seen only through half shadow, had worn a stamp of +grief on eyes and a mouth which the Kentuckian did not seem to be seeing +for the first time.</p> + +<p>Again under the night skies by the open grave, when the lanterns burned +yellow and the white shaft of an automobile lamp bit out a hard band of +glare, the figures of the burial party might have been effigies, but +once more the tight-drawn figure of that spare officer declared itself +human because only something human could, without word or motion, convey +such a declaration of suffering.</p> + +<p>It was he who gave the orders, and as Boone watched the firing squad +step forward—gaunt, shadow shapes in silhouette—to fire the last +salute, he saw the details with a dazed and blunted gaze.</p> + +<p>The sharp order which brought the pieces to shoulder; the other sharp +order, and the clean-tongued reports, single in unison but multiple in +their crimson jets—somehow these took a less biting hold on his memory +than the hint of the break in the officer's voice or the empty click of +the back-thrown breech-blocks and the light clatter of empty and falling +cartridge shells from the chambers.</p> + +<p>It was over, and back in his bare inn room Boone sat in a heavy dulness, +alone once more, when a rap sounded on the door.</p> + +<p>"You are Mr. Boone Wellver, sor'r, are ye not? I heard them call ye so."</p> + +<p>With the Scotch rolling of the r's, a flood of memory came back to the +Kentuckian. This was the messenger who so long ago had come to the +mountain cabin, seeking to lure his preceptor out of his hermitage, to +China. The years had drawn him leaner and battered him, and his insignia +proclaimed him a major, but his beard and uniform had not Russianized +him.</p> + +<p>"Major McTavish!" exclaimed the younger man, and across the older face +passed a momentary surprise, too trivial to endure long against the head +currents of graver emotion. "Yes, I am Boone Wellver. I was his +foster-son."</p> + +<p>The veteran of forty years of soldiering stood stiff for a little while +and embarrassed. His undemonstrative nature was, just now, an ice-flow +racked by a warm and unaccustomed freshet, and his straight lip-line +twisted up, down, and up again under his effort.</p> + +<p>"I have a message for ye, sor'r. He did not die at once—and I was with +him from the moment he was struck."</p> + +<p>Boone closed the door and turned eagerly. He had been hungry for a +word—for a reassurance that in these last busy years this gallant +gentleman had remembered him; yet now he put another matter ahead of +that.</p> + +<p>"But tell me first, sir, of his death," he begged. "I have heard little +of that."</p> + +<p>"It was as he would have had it." The soldier spoke brusquely, as if +jealous of his superior's military devotion and in a monotone because +his voice needed guarding. "He fell under fire, holding steady a shaken +command."</p> + +<p>"Was there—much suffering?"</p> + +<p>"There was fever, sor'r, and he was out of his head at the end." The +officer reached into his tunic and brought out a pencil-scribbled paper. +"He had me write this for him. 'Tis to you."</p> + +<p>Boone took the note in tremulous fingers and spread it close to the +lamp. While he read, the other stood stiff, but his breathing, with a +catch like the ghost of an inhibited sob, was audible.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"My dear boy," ran the message, "McTavish writes this for me. I +have fallen at last in what I believe to be a fight for God's +cause on earth. That is well. I go now to report to the Great +Commander-in-Chief, before whom mere appearances do not damn a +man if he go clean-hearted. Russia will collapse and the cause +will depend upon your own country—a country no longer aloof, +thank God.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear boy, my thoughts that have been with you so long, +turn to you at the end. You filled with affection and pride an +emptiness that would have starved my soul. When I think of your +country, I think of you as an embodiment of its intrepid youth +and strength. Can I say more? God keep you. I—"</p></blockquote> + +<p>It broke off there, and Boone raised his eyes to the Major, who, +divining that the glance was an inquiry, said shortly, "He gave out +there, sor'r. The fever took him. What you have read required half an +hour to give me—between breaths, as it were."</p> + +<p>"You say he was delirious—after that?"</p> + +<p>The other nodded.</p> + +<p>"He spoke your name—and another."</p> + +<p>"Whose?" Boone whispered the question.</p> + +<p>"A man named Prince. Some General Prince, of whom I never heard. He +fancied that this man came from God to fetch him, sor'r. It was part of +the lightheadedness."</p> + +<p>"Can you recall his words?"</p> + +<p>"I was holding his hand. He pressed mine a bit and said very faintly, +'Good-bye, Sergeant.'—'Twas so he remembered me from other +times.—'Tell Boone good-bye. General Prince has come for me.'"</p> + +<p>The narrator broke off, and Boone refrained from hastening him. Finally +McTavish resumed:</p> + +<p>"He said, 'General Prince has come. Don't ye hear him, McTavish? He +says, "The Commander-in-Chief sends His compliments, and you will report +to Him, in person."'—That was all, sor'r. I thought at the time he +meant Brussilov, but I comprehend now that it was of God he spoke."</p> + +<p>"I see," responded Boone huskily. "I thank you."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In Cincinnati, loyal to the core, yet Germanic enough of feature and +accent to render him inconspicuous, a fair-haired Bavarian with borrowed +naturalization papers pursued an avocation which merited the attention +of a firing squad. One day in a boarding house of excellent repute, not +far from Eden Park, a stranger called to see him, whose dark hair fell +in a forelock over a face of sardonic cast.</p> + +<p>This pair strolled out through the wooded acclivities of the park which +looks down over the city and, between blossoming redbud trees, found a +spot favourably secluded for their interview.</p> + +<p>"I still don't see," admitted the sallow stranger in a dubious voice, +"what it's going to profit your Kaiser to preach draft resistance down +there in the hills. I'm not contending that they don't hate to have the +Government say, 'You must,' yet on the other hand, they don't hang back +on soldiering. What's the bright idea?"</p> + +<p>The German lifted his straw-coloured brows indulgently.</p> + +<p>"You Americans have no thoroughness. You cannot grasp the detail because +you are too impatient of small matters. One does not seek to administer +a cumulative poison with a single dosage. The German mind considers each +contributing element—and of the small things are born the large. I +sketch for you a picture: your mountaineer in resistance; the southern +negro stirred to sullenness; the reservation Indian made restive—all +small problems in themselves, perhaps, but taken together making a +sabotage of human machinery that destroys your unity. At all events, we +are paying those whom we employ. We can afford to be liberal since in +the end the foe will foot the bill."</p> + +<p>Saul Fulton shrugged his shoulders. "All right, Gehr—"</p> + +<p>"Not Gehr," the other irritably interrupted him. "That was my name when +we met in South America. It is not the name on my papers. Schultz, it +is. Please do not forget again."</p> + +<p>"Schultz, then.... I'm willing to take my share of this wasted coin, but +I can't work in my home county. I tried going back there once and it was +enough."</p> + +<p>"You know other mountain sections, though—and in your native county you +can influence lieutenants?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I reckon maybe I can do that, all right."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Saul Fulton, to whom intrigue was as the breath of life, had again +undertaken to earn the Iscariot wage, and he worked as covertly as if he +had lain hidden in the laurel thickets.</p> + +<p>The result of his efforts was that in one county, not his own, a handful +of desperadoes listened greedily to his teachings, and in his own a +single man—or boy—of whom it was said that he "was pizen mean an' held +a grudge ergin all creation."</p> + +<p>Save for that, he gained no disciples, and if, when the registration day +came, only one quarter of the men of military age went to enroll +themselves, it was because already, through the channels of recruiting +offices, the other three-fourths had flowed into the khaki-brown +reservoirs of the army. It is history now how the "feud counties" +responded; how in two of them not a single man claimed exemption; how in +one only two souls waited for the draft.</p> + +<p>But Marlin County had her shameful exception in young "Dog" Burtree, who +lived alone in a log shack at the head of Pigeonroost Creek.</p> + +<p>One Saturday night young Dog drank white whiskey at a blind tiger, and +it was reported of him that, in the Holly Hill barber shop, he "made +the brag thet he hedn't registered, an' didn't aim ter register." Those +who were present reported his manifesto with admirable promptness to the +local draft board, and the scandal winged its way along the creek-beds.</p> + +<p>Dog may have been drunk beyond remembrance that evening, for when +neighbours with faces set in lines of patriarchal sternness rode to his +door demanding the truth, he turned putty pale and swore that he had +been libelled, and would make his detractors eat their calumnies.</p> + +<p>It was on the next Saturday night and in the same barber shop, with much +the same group of loiterers present, that the ensuing act was staged.</p> + +<p>The shabby little place, lighted by lamps with tin reflectors, was full +of pipe smoke and talk that evening, when some one, looking up from a +tilted chair, saw a figure in the door.</p> + +<p>A startled silence fell and lasted, though not for long—because the +eyes of the face that looked in were blood-shot and the lips twisted to +an ugly snarl.</p> + +<p>Except for its malevolence of expression it was not a repulsive face, +though its lower jaw was overly prominent. Its eyes were amber spots +beneath heavy brows, and under the back-thrust, felt hat a heavy mass of +chestnut hair bushed in curls about the temples. The lips were brightly +red like a girl's, but over the whole countenance now lay a spirit both +desperate and wicked.</p> + +<p>Dog appreciated that what he did must be speedily done, and before the +pause broke; before the startled accusers had realised the mission that +had brought him his pistol had leaped from its holster; had, several +times, risen and fallen in the grasp of a hand hinged on a steady wrist, +and had barked each time its muzzle fell level.</p> + +<p>Wreaths of smoke and the acrid smell of burnt powder drifted through the +barber shop, and four bodies lay on the puncheon floor—of whom two were +already dead.</p> + +<p>Swiftly the night took Dog Burtree to itself, and almost as swiftly a +posse was on the trail, with Joe Gregory, now high sheriff of Marlin +County, riding a blood-sweat out of his black colt to assume command of +the man-hunt.</p> + +<p>The quarry circled over a wide arc of broken fastnesses and went to +earth in an abandoned cabin thickly timbered about, and shielded back of +huge boulders. There he barred the door and barked out his defiant +challenge, "Come in an' git me!"</p> + +<p>The cordon closed about the house and awaited the light of day. Until +hunger and thirst conquered him, the few casualties were all of the +refugee's making, but after two nights and a day of siege, a white rag +appeared through a chink on the end of a ramrod.</p> + +<p>"Tell Joe Gregory he kin come in," shouted the voice of the besieged +man. "I'm ready ter surrender ter <i>him</i>—but not ter nobody else!"</p> + +<p>"No," shouted back Gregory, who already wore a bandage about a grazed +arm; "you come out, and come with your hands high."</p> + +<p>So it was that Saul's single convert came, and it was three weeks +afterwards that, the jury having spoken and the higher court having +denied an appeal, Joe sat in a day-coach leaving Marlin Town, while in +the seat facing him sat Dog Burtree, with irons on his wrists, and a +journey before him which should have no return. He was going to the +electric chair at Eddyville.</p> + +<p>Word ran mysteriously through the length of the train that the slight, +youthful prisoner in charge of the tall, grave-faced sheriff was the +Holly Hill murderer, and passengers sauntered, with specious +carelessness and inquisitive side glances, past the section where he +sat.</p> + +<p>The condemned man gave them back stare for stare, seeking the sorry +refuge of a bravado which, when he forgot his pose and gazed out of the +window, sagged into a spiritless and haunted misery. The face of his +captor was harder to read, yet the young woman who had also boarded the +train at Marlin Town with a group of settlement school children bound +for trachoma treatment in Lexington thought that it held an unusual +magnetism.</p> + +<p>Simplicity and courage were written in the sober eyes; responsibility +and self-knowledge were stamped on the firm mouth-line and jaw-angle.</p> + +<p>Joe, who had once come to Frankfort to seek Boone's aid in curbing the +violence of Gregory wrath, was going through the capital now on another +mission, and he made no effort to conceal his heaviness of heart. He was +taking a fellow-man to die, and though the duty lay as clear-writ as +when it had called him into rifle fire from the fugitive's barricade, it +was no longer so easy to obey.</p> + +<p>From time to time the condemned man leaned forward and talked, and Joe +bent with as considerate an attention as though he were listening to a +dignitary. Sometimes he smiled in answer to a forced jest; sometimes to +a more sincere and less brazen effort he nodded grave response. One +would have said that the two were friends, and against the approaches of +the morbidly curious Joe interposed an aloofness as repellent as +bayonets. What were they, he thought, but men anxious to see the wheels +turn in a head that was soon to wear a cap with electrodes fitting +against shaven temples?</p> + +<p>From across the car Happy Spradling watched the mingled strength and +gentleness of the law's servant, and felt that she would like to know +this neighbour, whom, as it happened, she had never met.</p> + +<p>The girl was going home, a few days after that, on the same train that +carried the returning sheriff—this time travelling alone—and coming to +her seat somewhat diffidently, he held out a book.</p> + +<p>"If you'll excuse me for introducing myself," he said, "I'll give you +this. You left it in your seat when you got off the train coming down."</p> + +<p>Happy smiled, and, since they were, after all, neighbours, talked with +him for the rest of the journey. Though it had been a long while since +her heart had admitted a flutter at the glances or speeches of a man, +the young woman found herself awakening to the discovery that she was +still young. He asked if he might come to see her, and often after that +his horse stood hitched at the settlement school. When one night a few +months later he smiled his grave smile and said, "I've come to bid you +farewell; I'm going away tomorrow," she acknowledged a sudden sharpness +of pang.</p> + +<p>"Where?" she demanded. And he answered:</p> + +<p>"Over there."</p> + +<p>They were standing on the squared log that made a foot bridge between +the thicketed banks of Little Laurel, and through a heavy mass of clouds +the moon was just emerging into a narrow field of pearl and opal.</p> + +<p>Because it was rising and still hung low, its face was not pallid but +rosy, and the top plumes of a single hemlock-clump showed outlined, and +swaying. Elsewhere the sky was still cloud-dark.</p> + +<p>"I haven't known you long," Joe Gregory was saying, "and I've always +been a mighty plain, uninteresting sort of man, but if I come back, +there'll be things I've got to say to you." He paused, and there was a +touch of eager hope in his voice as he finished. "The war'll change lots +of things. Maybe it'll change me some, too."</p> + +<p>"Don't let it change you too much, Joe," the girl cautioned him, and he +bent forward to assure himself that the light which he thought he saw in +her eyes was real.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII</h2> + + +<p>Paris by night was a dancer who has taken the veil. Paris by day, when +the siren screamed its air-raid warning, was a bold spirit not cowed but +sobered with a realization of death. Yet today Paris was vibrantly alive +along her boulevards where, despite the shadow, bright currents flowed +and sparkled.</p> + +<p>For was not this the Fourth of July, the national day of the sister +republic across the sea? And this afternoon would not the avenues echo +to the tramp of the first marching feet, as columns in khaki swung along +under the flag of the new ally?</p> + +<p>Paris had bled as she waited; France had given life and treasure and +made no lament, but now the vanguard of mighty reinforcements had +arrived, and this afternoon, in the welcome poured out upon them, Paris +would voice her quickened spirit of confidence restored and doubt +dispelled.</p> + +<p>Along sidewalks, where once the world had come to behold the gaiety and +taste the enchantment, trooped civilian crowds, linking elbows with the +uniformed sleeves of France, of Italy, of Britain, of Belgium and of +Portugal. Everywhere flashed and rang the cheer of a great day, and +everywhere showed the sobering of black with the tunics of horizon blue. +With the fluttering flags went the white of bandages, and with tramp of +feet mingled the stumping of the <i>blessé's</i> crutch.</p> + +<p>Boone Wellver had been in Paris a short time only, and tomorrow he was +leaving for England—and then home. He felt that Congress was no longer +his place of first duty—and he meant to resign. Pitched to a tone as +much deeper than feud hatreds as the bay of artillery is deeper than +rifle-fire, the voice which called for vengeance rang in his ears, and +his hands ached for the feel of the musket.</p> + +<p>He would have preferred that today, his last in Paris, should have been +left untrammelled. He wanted to drift with the laughing crowds between +the chestnut trees and to return the gay salutation of eyes that gleamed +the more brightly because they had been washed with tears. He wanted to +lose himself in that general picture which portrayed the spirit of +France so simply and gloriously valiant that, as one laughed, one felt a +catch in the throat for the background of tragedy against which all the +brightness was painted.</p> + +<p>But a requirement of civility had robbed him of that full liberty and +left him no choice but to follow the instructions which had been +contained in a letter from a New York member of the House of +Representatives.</p> + +<p>"If you have the opportunity in Paris," his colleague had written, "my +wife and I wish very much that you would look up some close friends of +ours.</p> + +<p>"They are a little group of New York women who, with some reconstruction +unit, have been doing worth-while work in stricken territories of France +and Belgium. Our particular friend is Mrs. L. N. Steele, and while I +can't direct you to her, at the enclosed address they can give you +greater particulars. I understand they are occasionally in Paris, and, +if so—" Boone had groaned impatiently, then had dutifully made +inquiries, with the result that at noon today he was to meet and lunch +with a party including his friend's friend.</p> + +<p>Now he reluctantly made his way along the thronged streets to the +designated restaurant in the Rue de Rivoli.</p> + +<p>Even of her grim necessity, Paris had made a decorative virtue. The +pasted-paper designs on the shop windows—put there to prevent +bomb-shattered panes from flying dangerously—seemed to have had no +other purpose than the expression of their designers' originality and +temperament. The piled sand-sacks that buttressed monuments and arches +had a certain deftness of arrangement that escaped the unsightly.</p> + +<p>Boone crossed the Place de la Concorde—where once the guillotine had +stood—and turned under the arches, looking at the signs.</p> + +<p>He entered a restaurant that was, today, crowded, looking vaguely about +him, and with a shepherding urbanity of deportment the head waiter came +forward to his assistance.</p> + +<p>Boone paused, still searching the tables across the colour scraps which +two colours always dominated—horizon-blue and mourning black.</p> + +<p>Then he saw a gloved hand raised in a signalling gesture, and recognized +the lady of whom he had made his inquiries for Mrs. Steele.</p> + +<p>He had seen only the one face, for that particular group sat partly +screened behind the inevitable centre stand crowned with its masterpiece +of decoration, where a huge lobster lay in state on an ice-cake, +surrounded by a variegated cordon of <i>hors d'oeuvres</i>.</p> + +<p>Then Boone made his way between the tables and found himself being +presented to several other women, to a pair of liaison officers on leave +and, because it all took place in a moment, suddenly felt the floor grow +unsteady under his feet, and saw, as the one clear vision in a blur of +indistinctness, the slender figure of a woman whose hair was a disputed +dominion along the borderland of gold and brown.</p> + +<p>As Anne rose to meet him—for she did rise—the man looked into the face +for which he had so long been seeking, and found it paler and thinner +than he had known it, yet paradoxically older only in the sense of being +perfected and tempered.</p> + +<p>The violet eyes held undimmed the light that he had worshipped, and if +one could see that sometimes they had looked on ghosts one could see too +that they had prevailed over their haunting.</p> + +<p>Boone forgot the others about him.</p> + +<p>"I have been searching for you," he said.</p> + +<p>It was not until late that day that they found themselves alone, sitting +in the gardens of the Luxembourg on the south side of the Seine. +Convalescent veterans, some of them pitifully young, were taking the air +there as the day cooled toward evening, and Boone and Anne Masters sat +on a bench, contented for a while to let the silence rest upon them.</p> + +<p>Much had been said and much remained to be said. Finally Boone declared +fervently; "At all events, I've found you!"</p> + +<p>"Somehow," her voice was low and a little tremulous, "I always felt that +if—we ever found ourselves—we would find each other."</p> + +<p>"And I think," he responded gravely, "we've done that."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't an easy road," she told him, and then as suddenly as an April +sun may break dartingly through rainclouds she laughed, and in her +violet eyes flashed the old merriment and whimsical humour. "I can laugh +now, Boone, but I couldn't then.... Once I could have reached out my +hand and touched you."</p> + +<p>His eyes widened, and his vanity suffered a sharp sting. He would have +sworn that his heart-hunger would have declared her nearness at any hour +of that long period of search, and he told her so, but she laughed +again.</p> + +<p>"That's in romance, Boone dear. We were in life."</p> + +<p>"When was it?"</p> + +<p>"It was on Fifth Avenue—just off of Washington Square, one night when +sleet was falling. I remember the wet pavements, because I had a hole in +one shoe. I was wrestling with an umbrella that the wind tried to turn +inside out—and we all but collided..."</p> + +<p>"And you didn't speak to me!"</p> + +<p>"No. I hurried away as fast as my feet could carry me—including the one +with the leaky shoe."</p> + +<p>"But, Anne!" The reproach in his voice was almost an outcry, and the +girl laid a hand gently, for a moment, over his.</p> + +<p>"If I'd let you find me, Boone—just then—I'd never have found myself. +It would have been surrender."</p> + +<p>"But why!"</p> + +<p>"Because—just then, I wasn't far from being hungry, and I was +very—very close to despair."</p> + +<p>The man shuddered, and after a long silence he asked:</p> + +<p>"But how did you come into this work?"</p> + +<p>"It was logical enough. I graduated into it out of an East Side +settlement, but I went into <i>that</i> because it was all I could get to do. +I don't deserve any credit."</p> + +<p>She sketched for him what her life had been here in ruined and desolate +towns, and made him see vividly the picture of the reclamation work. She +had been in places where the war tide had flowed near and spoke +shudderingly of the stark things which a generous world had been slow to +believe, and at the end he told her of McCalloway's death, but not of +his true identity, for that one secret he might not share with her.</p> + +<p>"And now," he questioned, "now that I have found you—after these years +of search?"</p> + +<p>Her violet eyes met his, and he read in them an answer that sent +turbulent and rejoicing currents, like wine, through his veins.</p> + +<p>"There is no one else, Boone—but I've enlisted for the war."</p> + +<p>He nodded. "I shall soon be in uniform, too," he said. "I'm going to +come back here with some of those barbarians that I was born among—I +think it's with them I'd rather visit the German trenches. But when the +war is over, dearest—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Après la guerre</i>," she murmured. "How often have I heard that here! +After the war we shall have our lives."</p> + +<p>A blind <i>poilu</i> went by on the arm of a girl and, though his eyes were +covered with a bandage and his free hand moved gropingly, his laugh was +that of a lover, and not a hopeless one. Boone's fingers closed over +those of the girl.</p> + +<p>"After the war!" he breathed, in a low and vibrant voice.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TEMPERING***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 33736-h.txt or 33736-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/3/7/3/33736">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/7/3/33736</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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