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diff --git a/old/62497-0.txt b/old/62497-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f5ae6a5..0000000 --- a/old/62497-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5905 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Goose Creek Folks, by Isabel Graham Bush, et -al - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Goose Creek Folks - A Story of the Kentucky Mountains - - -Author: Isabel Graham Bush - - - -Release Date: June 27, 2020 [eBook #62497] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOOSE CREEK FOLKS*** - - -This etext was transcribed by Les Bowler - - [Picture: Book cover] - - [Picture: Mountain schoolhouse] - - - - - - GOOSE CREEK FOLKS - - - _A Story of the Kentucky Mountains_ - - * * * * * - - By - ISABEL GRAHAM BUSH - AND - FLORENCE LILIAN BUSH - - * * * * * - - [Picture: Decorative graphic] - - * * * * * - - NEW YORK CHICAGO TORONTO - Fleming H. Revell Company - LONDON AND EDINBURGH - - * * * * * - - Copyright, 1912, by - FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY - - * * * * * - - New York: 158 Fifth Avenue - Chicago: 125 N. Wabash Ave. - Toronto: 25 Richmond St., W. - London: 21 Paternoster Square - Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street - - * * * * * - - - - -To - - - _ALICE K. DOUGLAS_ - _OF BEREA COLLEGE_ - -_whose helpfulness of spirit and enthusiasm for learning have inspired -many a mountain boy and girl to a life of broad usefulness, this book is -lovingly dedicated by_ - - _THE AUTHORS_ - - - - -CONTENTS - - I. DAN GOOCH MAKES A DISCOVERY 9 - II. MARTIN SURPRISES GOOSE CREEK 21 - III. TALITHA SOLVES A PUZZLING PROBLEM 31 - IV. THE STORM 42 - V. AN UNEXPECTED RIVAL 52 - VI. HUNTING A VARMINT 62 - VII. THE JAM SOCIAL 74 - VIII. THE MASTER KEY 83 - IX. THE BAPTIZING 98 - X. SI QUINN REVEALS A SECRET 119 - XI. CHRISTMAS DOINGS 131 - XII. GOOSE CREEK PLOTS AGAINST THE SCHOOLMASTER 137 - XIII. THE “STILL” CAVE 150 - XIV. LOST ON THE MOUNTAINS 160 - XV. THE WALKING PARTY 173 - XVI. THE MOUNTAIN CONGRESS 186 - XVII. KID SHACKLEY GETS A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD 200 - XVIII. COMMENCEMENT TIME AT BENTVILLE 210 - - - - -I -DAN GOOCH MAKES A DISCOVERY - - -“DO you reckon it’ll seem the same?” Talitha, quite breathless with the -long climb, stood looking down at her brother, who was following more -slowly up the scraggy slope of Red Mountain. - -“Why not?” he answered. “But say, are you going to keep up this gait for -long? If you do you’ll be plumb tuckered before we get home.” - -The girl laughed, and then sighed. “I’m so anxious to get there, Mart; -seems like I can’t wait. To think we’ve been away ’most a year! Do you -s’pose Rufe and little Dock’ll know us?” - -“Like as not they won’t. I’m sort o’ in hopes they’ll think we’ve -changed some,” returned Martin. He dropped upon a convenient ledge and -pulled his sister down beside him. - -“I’m afraid they won’t see much difference in me, but you’ve changed a -whole lot,” Talitha declared proudly with a sidewise glance of the brown -eyes. “Mother’ll notice it the first thing.” - -“I guess you haven’t looked in the glass lately,” scoffed Martin, -reddening at the implied praise. “You aren’t the same girl who left for -school last fall with a pigtail hanging down her back and her dress ’most -to her knees.” - -“I s’pose I looked just as Lalla Ponder did when she started in this -spring, and she’s changed a sight.” Talitha put up her hands to smooth -the soft roll of wavy hair which had taken the place of the tight, -girlish braid. A year had never made so much difference before. - -“I’m going back in the fall,” suddenly announced Martin. “Aren’t you, -Tally?” - -“So far as I know, I am, but it all depends on mammy. It’ll be harder -for me to leave than you, I reckon.” Talitha rose to her feet and -adjusted her bundle knapsack-fashion across her shoulders. “We’ll make -it before dark, I should say,” thinking of the rough mountain way yet to -be traversed. They had left the train early that morning, and walked -steadily since sunrise. Now it lacked a half-hour of noon. - -Another steady climb and a descent, and the two found themselves on -familiar ground. At their feet Goose Creek crept sluggishly. A footpath -followed on the low, sloping bank like a persistent shadow until both -were lost to sight in the curves of the foothills. Here in the cool -shade of a tangled growth, close to the stream, brother and sister paused -to eat their lunch, which Martin produced from his bundle. They would be -at home in time for supper. - -“I wonder if Si Quinn is going to teach the Goose Creek school this -term?” Martin helped himself to a sandwich. - -“I reckon so, but I wish he could go to Bentville long enough to get it -out of his head that the earth is square. To think of his teaching us -such foolishness!” - -Martin shook his head. “It wouldn’t be of any use; he’s the greatest -person to argufy. He’s got it all figured out that if the earth is round -we’d all be rolled off into nothing. It would be ‘onpossible’ to stay on -it.” - -Talitha dipped her hands in the creek and wiped them on her handkerchief. -“I wish—” she began, then stopped suddenly. Martin looked up and his -eyes followed hers. - -Around the farther curve of the creek path appeared a horse’s head; then -the animal and its rider came slowly into view. “It’s somebody from -Stone Jug, I reckon,” said Martin, “only it rides like Dan Gooch.” - -“It is Dan Gooch,” decided Talitha under her breath. “Wait and see if he -knows us, Mart.” - -The old sorrel plodded dejectedly along the path. The man on his back -was as loose-jointed and angular as his steed. An ancient broad-brimmed -hat slouched over his face to keep out the bright sunlight. If the two -seated at the creek’s edge imagined he was about to pass them unnoticed, -they were immediately undeceived, for the man raised his head and eyed -them as though he had come for that express purpose. - -“Howdy!” said Martin with the tone of one stranger saluting another. - -“Howdy!” responded the man, still staring. His horse had already stopped -and was nosing the herbage. “Hit ain’t Mart Coyle and Tally?” exclaimed -Dan Gooch after a speculative silence. - -“It is.” Talitha sprang up with a laugh. “But you didn’t know us right -off, though.” - -“I ’lowed ’twas you and agin I ’lowed ’twas furriners. I never seen -young-uns change so in sech a few months. You’d better let me go ahead -and tell your mammy thar’s comp’ny comin’ fer supper.” The man slipped -from his horse with a chuckle. “If you’ve walked from the Gap, hit’s -been a purty stiff climb. Crawl up on the beastie, Tally, I’ll keep Mart -comp’ny.” - -After much demurring the girl mounted the sorrel and soon both were lost -to sight around the bend. - -The sun, a huge, fiery ball, was poised on the bare summit of a peak in -the west, when Talitha reached the edge of a cove on the mountain-side. -Curling indolently upward, the smoke from a cabin chimney was lost among -the trees crowding the slope beyond. In spite of her haste, she halted -the not unwilling sorrel and sat for a few moments gazing at the place -she called home. The picture in her memory supplied all invisible -details. - -The cabin was small, one-roomed, with a loft above, the rough, unbarked -logs brown as a beech nut. The mud and stick chimney at one end looked -ready to collapse at the first brisk wind. There was no glass in the two -shuttered openings which served as windows. The interior of the cabin -was scarcely more attractive. Wide cracks showed in the puncheon floor, -the walls were smoke-stained. In a corner near the fireplace,—there was -no stove,—were several rude shelves filled with coarse, nicked dishes. -The loom, warping bars, spinning wheel, a deal table, with three or four -chairs and a couple of benches, nearly filled the room. A row of last -year’s pepper pods and a bunch of herbs still hung from the dingy -ceiling. - -Outside, two children romped among the geese and chickens. Presently a -woman, spare and stooping, appeared, and toiled springward for a bucket -of water. Tears filled Talitha’s eyes as she went on. Her mother was -not old, yet she was as careworn and bent as women twice her age in the -village. To the girl, Bentville stood for the world which lay beyond her -mountains, and the longing to transform her home life into something like -the comfort and harmony of those she had just left was almost -overwhelming. - -Talitha rode up to the door amid the joyful shrieks of the children and -the squawks of the fowls as they flew precipitately in every direction. -Dismounting, she released herself as soon as possible from small -embracing arms and hurried to her mother who had set down the bucket and -was eyeing her daughter perplexedly. - -“Hit ’pears ter me you’ve growed a heap sence you war gone,” was all the -comment Mrs. Coyle made upon Talitha’s changed appearance. “Whar’s -Mart?” with sudden misgiving as the girl picked up the bucket of water -and stepped briskly along at her side. - -“He’s coming. Dan Gooch gave me a lift on his sorrel and he footed it -with Mart.” - -Talitha went on into the cabin, but her mother lingered outside. She had -caught sight of a young, stalwart figure beside their neighbour. She -smoothed her old homespun gown with worn, calloused hands, and wished she -had the “tuckin’ comb” Talitha had sent her for Christmas in her hair. - -“Hello, mammy!” Martin put his arms around his mother and kissed her -awkwardly. - -After Dan Gooch had accepted the hospitable invitation to stay for -supper, the three repaired indoors. Talitha had rallied the younger -members of the family to her assistance, and was already dishing up the -evening meal. A fresh cloth had been laid, and a handful of mountain -laurel, in a tin can on the window-sill, transferred to the centre of the -table. At this juncture Sam Coyle appeared from the “fodder patch.” -After a hasty greeting he retreated to the basin of water outside with a -bewildered, company feeling he had not experienced since a college -settlement worker had visited them the year before. - -At the table he listened with silent pride to the answers which Dan -Gooch’s volley of questions elicited. He learned that a mountain farm -could bring its owner a good living if rightly cultivated, that Talitha -had made with her own hands the dress and apron of “store goods” she was -wearing. Perhaps his wife had been in the right after all when she -insisted on the two older children going to school, although it was -against his judgment. - -“And you-uns hev been a-larnin’ carpenterin’?” continued their neighbour, -addressing Martin. - -“Yes, I’ve been working at it all the year, out of school hours,” was the -reply. - -“Then thar’s a job waitin’ fer you at Squar’ Dodd’s. His house ain’t big -’nough ter suit him, and he’s bound ter hev a po’ch and a lean-to on thet -place of his’n.” - -“Thank you ever so much. I’ll see Mr. Dodd about it to-night.” Martin’s -eyes kindled at the thought of putting his knowledge to such immediate -use. - -“I reckon thet school’d be a fine place fer my Abner and Gincy,” mused -Dan. - -“Oh, it would,” urged Talitha delightedly. “And Gincy could room with me -if I go back next year,” with an appealing glance at her father. - -Sam Coyle frowned. “I reckon a year’s schoolin’s ’nough fer any gal. -Hit’s a sight more’n I ever had,” he said surlily. - -His neighbour gave a derisive laugh. “Can’t neither of us read or write -no more’n if we war blind as bats. I hain’t any mind ter stand in the -way of my chil’ren gettin’ larnin’, ’specially if hit ain’t costin’ me -nothin’.” - -The thrust went home, as the speaker intended, for it was well known that -Martin and Talitha had paid for their year at school by their own -exertions. Also that Sam Coyle had taken little of the added -burdens—during their absence—upon his own shoulders. - -“Gincy would like it ever so much,” pursued Talitha, anxious to preserve -peace. “She’d especially like the singing.” - -“She would, I reckon,” agreed her father proudly. “Gincy has a purty ear -for a tune, and I’m aimin’ ter give her a chanct if I didn’t hev one -myself,” he said, rising to take his departure. - -Martin watched him disappear down the slope in silent astonishment. He -had supposed Dan Gooch would be the last one to see the “needcessity of -larnin’,” and here he was the champion of their cause against their own -father. - -Talitha was briskly clearing away the supper dishes when a couple mounted -on one horse rode up to the door. “Howdy!” greeted Sam Coyle, lounging -forward with a show of cordiality. - -“Shad ’lowed he seen a gal and boy tromp-in’ ’cross the mounting this -mornin’, and I sez hit wan’t nobody but Mart and Tally,” said the old -woman, slipping cautiously to the ground. - -“You war a true prophet fer once, Ann, but I’d be bound nobody’d known -’em anywhere else,” declared her brother. - -“Plumb spiled, most likely,” grumbled Ann. From the depths of her black, -slatted sunbonnet the gimlet eyes keenly scrutinized her nephew and -niece. “Well, you air growed up fer sure, and I reckon you know more’n -the old schoolmaster hisself. Thar ain’t nothin’ like the insurance o’ -young-uns thet’s got a leetle larnin’,” pursued the old woman with -acerbity. “Now what I want ter know is, what kin you do thet the gals -and boys what never seen Bentville, can’t?” Ann Bills had seated herself -before the fireplace, removed her sunbonnet, and was lighting the pipe -she had taken from her pocket. - -“Lawsy,’ Ann,” protested Mrs. Coyle indignantly, “their pappy and me air -terrible pleased with what they’ve larned, and I don’t see no call fer -you ter be so powerful ornery. If all your six boys hed been gals I’ll -be bound thar couldn’t one of ’em make a gown like thet Tally’s wearin’, -and she tuk every stitch herself. As fer Mart, you’ll know what he kin -do ’fore long, I reckon.” - -Mrs. Coyle and her sister-in-law did not agree on the subject of -education. The latter’s family of boys had grown to man’s estate and -married without having mastered the second reader. For once Sam Coyle -did not come to his sister’s aid. Although he had no intention of -allowing his children to return to school, he was swelling with pride at -their changed appearance and his tongue was ready to wage a sharp battle -in the cause of “larnin’.” - -Failing to secure an ally, the old dame prudently changed her tactics. -“Hit air purty fair work,” she admitted in a conciliatory tone, -scrutinizing the hem of Talitha’s gown. “But I don’t set much store by -thet kind o’ goods; hit can’t hold a candle ter homespun when hit comes -ter wear. If I war you, I’d put Tally ter the loom; she air old ’nough -ter be larnin’ somethin’ of more ’count.” - -Talitha turned back to her dishes with a sigh. Martin had escaped Uncle -Shad’s equally acrimonious tongue and gone to interview Squire Dodd. He -did not return until the old couple had taken their departure. - -Gincy Gooch came over the very next afternoon. The dinner work was out -of the way and Mrs. Coyle was spinning while Talitha sat on the doorstep -at work on the “store goods” Martin had brought his mother for a new -gown. Gincy watched the deft fingers wistfully. - -“Pappy says you-uns hev larned a heap of things,” she remarked. “And -you’ve changed a sight; ’most ’pears ter me you ain’t Tally Coyle any -more.” - -Talitha laughed. “Well, I am, and when you’ve been to Bentville a while -you’ll change, too.” - -“Kin you reely read books right off ’thout spellin’ out the big words?” - -“Yes,” Talitha nodded, remembering her shortcomings of only a year ago. -If she never went back to school how many things she had to be thankful -for. “You’d like the singing, Gincy,” she said abruptly, “it’s so -different from any music you ever heard.” - -“Diff’runt, how?” - -“Well, I’ll show you. Just begin some song and don’t get off the tune no -matter what I sing.” - -“I ain’t never got off the tune yit,” reproved Gincy. She began in a -clear, sweet voice “The Turkish Lady,” an old English ballad (one of many -preserved for generations among the mountaineers). It ran thus: - - “Lord Bateman was in England born, - He thought himself of a high degree; - He could not rest or be contented - Until he had voyaged across the sea.” - -Talitha joined Gincy in a mellow alto, and together the two sang verse -after verse. The spinning wheel ceased to turn while the spinner -listened to this new blending of voices, for the mountain people only -sang the air. At the edge of the slope Sam Coyle heard it in amazement. -The old ballad was familiar enough, but it had never sounded so -beautiful. - -Gincy showed no surprise at the innovation. Her hands clasped in her lap -she looked with large, dreamy eyes off to the green-topped hills lying -peacefully against the shining sky. The echoes crept out of the silences -and chanted the words softly over and over again. - -When the song was finished, Gincy hardly paused to take breath before she -swung into another familiar melody and Talitha followed, her work -forgotten. They had hardly reached the third line when a bass voice -joined them, and Martin dropped down on the doorstep beside the two -girls. - -Below, on the creek path, a sorrel horse and its rider had halted. “Thet -air Gincy’s voice fer sartin. I reckon the Coyles air a-singin’, too, -but hit sounds diff’runt’n I ever hearn ’em afore; somethin’ like them -a-choirin’ up yander, I reckon,” glancing upward. With a regretful sigh -he heard the last echo die away. - -“Gincy’s goin’ ter hev a chanct ter git larnin’, thet’s all,” declared -Dan Gooch as he jogged slowly homeward. - - - - -II -MARTIN SURPRISES GOOSE CREEK - - -THE next day, Martin began work on the addition to Squire Dodd’s cabin. -Sam Coyle, much elated at his son’s success in securing the job, hastened -thither and planted himself in the shade to watch its progress. He was -not without company. There were a number who considered the squire had -shown undue haste in giving so important a piece of work to a -“striplin’,” and had gathered to note proceedings and proffer advice. - -Martin listened in silent good humour to the wagging tongues. That his -employer had confidence in his ability was enough, and he worked with -unceasing energy. At the end of the second day the critics were -silenced, and before the week was over it had been noised abroad that Sam -Coyle’s son had come back from school with a trade at his “finger eends -’sides a heap o’ book larnin’.” The Settlement store was, for the first -time in many months, nearly destitute of loungers. - -Instead of the intended lean-to, a one story frame addition was built -across the front of the Dodd cabin, shutting the original completely from -view of the traveller on the creek path. A wide porch increased the -magnificence of the structure, and when a coat of yellow paint with -trimmings of a brilliant red denoted the completion of Martin’s contract, -the spectators were unanimous in agreeing that the mountains had never -seen anything quite so grand. The peaks looked down at the innovation -with a new dignity—so it seemed to the young carpenter. He had been -learning the value of simplicity, and he realized how little his -handiwork harmonized with the beauty around it. But he had only carried -out the wishes of the squire, and he dismissed the subject from his mind -for something more weighty was upon it. - -“I’ve been thinking ever since I came home,” he said that night to -Talitha, “of something Professor Scott said: ‘It isn’t enough to get good -things for ourselves, we must pass them on.’ I wish I could take some of -the boys back to school with me.” - -“I think you can reckon on Abner Gooch and the three Shackley boys -already. I call that a pretty fair beginning. And there’ll be more. I -heard that Dan Gooch said yesterday over at the Settlement, ‘If you want -ter know what thet school down below here kin teach your young-uns, jest -look at Squar’ Dodd’s manshun yander.’” - -Martin laughed grimly. “If they do go they won’t think it such a work of -art when they come back.” - -“When they get back they’ll have learned enough to understand, I reckon,” -responded Talitha. “The thing is to get them there. You ought to see -how Gincy’s working, and the whole family too, for that matter. I -actually believe they’ve picked most of the berries for ten miles around -here. They are at it now. Just think of Dan Gooch going berrying!” - -“He has some backbone after all. It’s such a pity he couldn’t have had a -chance when he was young. And that reminds me, I met Gincy ’way over in -Bear Hollow yesterday morning at sun-up with a bucket. After berries, I -suppose; but I don’t see how they’re going to eat ’em all.” - -“Eat ’em! They don’t, they’re drying ’em to sell. The Settlement store -has promised to take every pound. Then Mrs. Gooch is reckoning on her -geese feathers, too. If Gincy can only get money enough for a start, -she’ll find work to help her through the year.” - -“I reckon so,” assented Martin. “They’re mighty friendly folks at the -school.” - -“You’ve saved enough now, haven’t you?” Talitha’s mind suddenly reverted -to her brother’s prospects. - -“Yes, I’ll make it do with the odd jobs I can pick up; but I misdoubt -father’s being willing for me to go back. He thinks I know a sight now. -He’s running all over the country trying to get me another job, and -here’s the crop going to waste. I reckon I’m needed at home for a spell, -anyway,” and Martin went gloomily out to work in the much neglected -field. - -He had seen thrifty orchards and gardens in the little sheltered coves of -those great hills near Bentville, and he had often pictured his own home -with such a background. Disheartened, the young fellow regarded the task -before him for a moment, then rallied his two younger brothers. With the -promise of a reward they attacked the weeds among the corn while Martin -went on to the little orchard. It was thick with dead wood, and he fell -to pruning the branches energetically. With the knowledge he had gained -what a change he could make in the place even in the two months left of -his vacation. - -Over in the garden he could hear Talitha and her mother. Tending garden -and milking the cow was as much woman’s work, according to the Kentucky -mountain code, as washing dishes or making bread. The sound of a -sturdily wielded hoe in the earth spurred him on. “I’ll go back some -time, anyhow, if I live,” he declared, striking deep, vigorous blows into -a lifeless tree trunk. - -Had Martin and Talitha only known, their energy spoke volumes for the -Cause lying so near their hearts. A new interest had been suddenly -awakened in the Coyle family. The slightest pretext took their less -ambitious neighbours along the creek path curious to see “what Mart Coyle -was up ter now.” A wide, roomy porch across the front of the cabin—which -Martin had skilfully contrived at little expense—served as sitting-room -during the warm weather. Here Talitha’s wheel whirred diligently in the -shadow of the vines which had taken kindly to her late transplanting. - -The Coyle enterprise was contagious. Dan Gooch, with a new-born -enthusiasm, valiantly led his sons forth to produce order from the -confusion around the exterior of the cabin. Inside, Gincy and her mother -worked with tireless energy and bright dreams of the future. - -From the first Sunday of Martin’s and Talitha’s return, the Gooch family -had taken to “jest droppin’ in,” during the afternoon, until it had -become a settled custom followed by one neighbour after another. Part -singing was a novelty of which they never tired. When the blacksmith’s -eldest son found that he was the possessor of a richer, deeper bass voice -than Martin’s, his delight was unbounded. There were others besides -Gincy who could successfully hold their own in the air in spite of the -other parts, although Gincy’s clear, bird-like tones rang above theirs on -the high notes. - -And so the summer wore away, and the heralds of approaching autumn -sounded a warning note in the breezes and fluttered their signals from -the mountain slopes. - -It was only a week before the time for their departure that Sam Coyle -gave a reluctant consent to Martin’s and Talitha’s return to school. Two -others besides Abner and Gincy were to accompany them—Peter and Isaac -Shackley, sons of the blacksmith at the Settlement. Peter was to take -his horse, a handsome bay of which he was very proud, the fifty miles to -Bentville, and then sell it to defray his expenses at the school. It had -taken him a long time to determine on the sacrifice, and his was the only -sober face in the merry little company which set forth that September -morning. - -The night before, the other members of the party came to the Coyle cabin -in order to make an early start. That six young people were to leave for -Bentville the next morning made a stir at Goose Creek. They were -favourites in the mountains, and during the evening a dozen families -called with some parting gift or admonition. They were not all wisely -chosen, but the kindest intentions prompted each offering. From the -younger ones there were various gifts of fruit and flowers. Ann Bills -had so far relented as to present her niece with two pairs of wool -stockings which Talitha could not refuse however much she would have -liked to do so. Mrs. Twilliger brought several strings of freshly dried -pumpkin which she much feared Gincy might “git ter hankerin’ arter.” The -Slawson boy, who was “light-minded,” brought his pet coon and wept -bitterly when Abner gently but firmly refused it. Little Tad Suttle was -equally persistent in forcing on them his dog Wulf, who was warranted to -keep the bears and painters at a proper distance when the company crossed -the mountains. - -The Bills family were inclined to consider the occasion a mournful one. -If the young people had been going to the ends of the earth instead of -but fifty miles away, they could not have been more pessimistic. That -Martin and Talitha had returned unharmed seemed to have no weight with -them. - -“Sho, now,” objected the blacksmith jovially, “I ain’t goin’ ter -cornsider my young-uns as lost ter the mountings. I ’low they’re jest -goin’ ter git some larnin’ and come back ter help me.” - -“Book larnin’ ain’t goin’ ter give ’em muscle,” objected the elder Bills. - -“Law, no, they’ve got ’nough of thet now. I ain’t raisin’ a passel of -prizefighters. If Kid stays home ter help me one blacksmith’s ’nough in -a family, I reckon. I’ve heerd the Bentville school is great on idees, -and thet’s jest what these mountings air needin’ bad.” - -“You talk like we war plumb idjits, Enoch Shackley,” cried Ann Bills, her -black eyes snapping angrily. “I’ve heerd tell o’ folks you’d never ’low -had any head stuff’in’ till their skulls got a crack and you could git a -sight of their brains, but I never heerd as this part of the kentry war -noted fer sech. Me and my fambly hain’t never had ter go borrowin’ fer -idees.” - -“Lands, no,” said Mrs. Twilliger. “Hold up your head with the best of -’em, Gincy; Goose Creek folks hain’t never took a back seat fer nobody.” - -At last the callers melted away and the weary people they left behind -hurried to bed to get what sleep they might before time for their early -departure. - -As the little party started down the slope the next morning, a wonderful -light quavered above the mountain-tops for the most part covered with a -thick, gorgeous leafage of crimson, green, and gold flaming out among the -duller browns. Now and then a rough, scraggy peak like Bear Knob showed -grimly against the sky. Below them the mists lay huddled asleep awaiting -the coming of the sun. The cool smell of the night was still in the air. -Down where the creek path trailed out of sight came a jubilant chorus of -bird voices. - -A strange feeling made Gincy’s heart beat faster, and a lump rose in her -throat. But what might have happened did not, for Talitha, with -foresight, reached up and laid a rough, brown hand tenderly over the one -on the pommel of the saddle. Gincy looked down into the blue eyes -smiling encouragement and was herself again. - -A straggling little procession, they followed the slim stream which -curved around the base of the hills. At noon the party stopped to eat -their lunch on its banks, and then they left it for a steep climb up the -mountain. - -An hour before sunset they had made good progress, coming out suddenly -upon a cleared cove halfway down the mountain. At the farther side, -against a background of pines, stood a large, well-built cabin. Vines -tinted with autumn colouring clambered over the broad porch. The space -in front was cleanly swept. Back of the low palings in the rear was a -large, thrifty garden, and fragrant odours of ripening fruit came from -the small, but heavily-laden, orchard. - -“You can tell that a Bentville student lives here, all right,” said -Martin. “This is where Tally and I stayed over night on our way to -school last year.” - -Their approach had been discovered, for two hounds ran around the house -barking a joyful greeting. Then a tall, muscular young fellow hurried -out of the door, followed by other members of the family. - -There was no look of dismay on Joe Bradshaw’s face at the size of the -party. With true mountain hospitality they were given a hearty welcome. - -Inside the house Gincy looked around curiously. The two rooms were -better furnished and neater than even Squire Dodd’s, which represented to -her the height of elegance. In the living-room the supper was cooking -over a stove; the fireplace was not even lighted. A white linen cloth of -Mrs. Bradshaw’s own weaving covered the table, and there seemed to be -plenty of dishes without the makeshifts common in her home and those of -other mountain families she knew. True, it was only coarse, blue -earthenware, but in her unaccustomed eyes nothing could be finer. - -In the next room were two beds covered with blue and white “kivers,” also -the product of the loom which stood in the corner of the living-room. -Pinned on the walls were a half-dozen prints and bright-coloured -pictures. Cheesecloth curtains were looped back from the windows, and on -the mission table, of Joe’s making, was a store lamp with a flowered -shade, and more books than Gincy had seen in all her life before. - -That night she could hardly sleep for thinking of the wonders awaiting -her on the morrow in the promised land of which she had dreamed through -all the toil of the long summer days. - - - - -III -TALITHA SOLVES A PUZZLING PROBLEM - - -JOE BRADSHAW was a member of the little party which set forth early the -next morning with renewed expectations. Not a cloud hovered in the deep -blue of the sky as they followed the devious trails across the mountains -and along the foothills, valleyward. At the end of ten miles they -reached the railroad. It was the first all but three of the party had -ever seen. The horse the two girls were riding shied in terror at sight -of the monster puffing forth clouds of smoke and steam. The passengers -in the coaches looked curiously out at the bright, young faces shadowed -by white sunbonnets. Gincy clung to Talitha and drew a long breath of -relief as bell and whistle sounded and the train swept on, its rumble and -roar re-echoing among the hills. - -After that, the rest of the way seemed short indeed, so near were the -travellers to their journey’s end. Every few miles now were homes which -bore evidences of a thrift and energy which had not yet penetrated far -into the mountains. One by one the stars came out, and a full moon -climbed over the ridge and made a silvery, elusive pathway across the -foothills. Another turn in the trail, and presently the foot-sore -pilgrims came to a smooth pike. A half-hour later they looked upon -shadowy roofs among tall trees where lights twinkled faintly in the -radiance of the moon. - -Martin and Joe hurried ahead along the street sure of a welcome, and they -were not disappointed. - -“Here are our two standbys again, and they didn’t come alone, either,” -greeted the secretary with a hearty shake of the hand as the boys entered -the office. - -The girls were taken in charge by the dean, who whisked them off to the -dining-room for a late supper. After that, with much contriving, they -were stowed comfortably away for the night. - -“You’d better go straight to sleep,” admonished Talitha. “Half-past five -will come before you know it and then the rising bell rings. I expect -we’ll feel pretty stiff for a day or two.” - -Gincy only murmured a drowsy reply. She was already dreaming a beautiful -dream, quite unaware of what Mrs. Donnelly, the dean, was saying to Miss -Howard, her assistant. - -“I don’t see how we can keep the girl who came with Talitha Coyle. We -are overflowing already. Two beds in every room upstairs—” - -“Can’t we manage some way?” urged Miss Howard for the tenth time that -day. “She’s a bright little thing. If she were only a boy now, and yet -the boys are coming in at a great rate this year; it’s wonderful!” - -“Let me think.” The dean’s smooth forehead wrinkled in perplexity. -“Well,” with a sudden inspiration, “if that girl from Kerby Knob doesn’t -put in an appearance—she wrote me that her mother was sick and she was -afraid she couldn’t—I’ll keep Gincy, but if Urilla does come back we -shall be obliged to give her precedence because she will be a junior this -year.” - -So the matter rested, and blissfully ignorant of the fact that her good -fortune was another girl’s misfortune, Gincy arose in the morning -supremely happy. She was not to remain long a stranger, for Talitha was -a person who made friends—hosts of them—she had such a way of forgetting -Talitha Coyle, and in a few hours they were Gincy’s also. She laughed -and chatted among the girls as she helped wipe the great stacks of dishes -after the early breakfast. There were no lessons yet, but when the -morning’s work was done and the services at the chapel over, Kizzie -Tipton proposed a walk. - -“You know the dean said you needn’t hurry to get registered,” added her -new friend. “I’ll meet you on the front porch in five minutes,” and -Kizzie ran to her room. - -Gincy opened the hall door also in haste. She had thought of something -she wished to say to Talitha—who was just going down the steps with her -books—and nearly ran against a tall, pale-faced girl carrying a heavy -handbag. “Oh!” Gincy ejaculated with a swift glance at the wan face. -“Jest let me ketch a holt. I ’most tuk you down, I reckon.” - -The weary eyes brightened. “You’re a new girl,” asserted the late -arrival confidently as Gincy deposited the baggage in a corner of the -hall. - -“Yes,” she nodded, “I reckon I be, but I don’t seem ter sense hit much. -Hit’s the nicest place I ever see fer findin’ friends,” and Gincy -disappeared with a parting smile. - -The newcomer sat down in thoughtful silence, forgetting that she had not -made known her arrival to the dean. But that lady chanced to espy her -from the top of the stairs and slowly descended, inwardly determined that -her face should not reveal her embarrassment. - -“Well, Urilla, you succeeded in getting here after all,” she said with a -smile. - -“Yes, ma’am,” answered the girl, rising respectfully. “Mother’s able to -sit up most of the time, and she wouldn’t hear to my staying home now -Sally’s big enough to help. If I can only manage to stay another year.” -Urilla gave a long sigh. - -The girl was sent to her room to get a little rest before dinner, and -Gincy, returning from her walk in a high state of exuberance, was called -to the office. - -Two hours later, Talitha came unexpectedly upon Mrs. Donnelly. “I have -been looking for you,” said that lady soberly.—It was a very difficult -thing she had to do.—“I am very sorry to be the bearer of such bad news, -but we shall be obliged to send Gincy home—” - -“Send her home!” echoed Talitha in amazement, turning pale and trembling. - -“Yes, Urilla Minter has come back, and there isn’t room for both of them; -we’re crowded beyond the limit now. I’ve done my best, but not a place -can be found for her. I’ll keep her name on the books so she will have -an opportunity to come back next year.” Mrs. Donnelly’s heart was sore -at parting with one of her flock who was so eager for an education. -There were tears in her eyes as she turned away. - -Talitha wandered out to a seat on the campus to think over the dreadful -tidings. Gincy going home after working so hard all the summer to come! -This would be her last chance, for Dan Gooch would never get over her -being sent back, and he would hate the Coyles because Gincy would not -have thought of attending the school had it not been for Talitha. All -the beautiful, rosy clouds which had glorified the morning sky faded, -leaving it dull and grey. - -Gincy must not go home; that Talitha instantly decided, but—The girl sat -for a long time struggling with herself, her hands clasped over the -precious little pile of books in her lap. She was in a far corner, -unnoticed by the merry bands of students passing back and forth. She -could hear their laughter and happy chatter. Oh, it was hard, so hard! - -At last, Talitha rose quickly as though she were afraid her courage might -vanish, and hastened to the hall and straight to Mrs. Donnelly’s room. -“I’ve come to tell you,” she began breathlessly, with a little tremor in -her voice, “that I’ve—I’ve decided to go home. Gincy can stay, then. -She mustn’t go, Mrs. Donnelly, she’s been workin’ and lottin’ on it all -summer and her folks wouldn’t ever let her come back again. I’ll go and -you’ll give her my place, won’t you?” - -The dean never forgot the pleading face lifted to hers. It was white and -the lips were trembling, but the light of a heroic, self-sacrificing -spirit shone in the dark eyes. “Oh, my child,” protested the woman, “I -can’t bear to think of your going home. If I could only plan some way, -but I’ve tried and tried.” - -“I know it,” nodded Talitha, “but I never once thought there wouldn’t be -room for everybody who wanted to come. Anyway, I’m glad Gincy’s going to -have a chance. You ought to hear her sing, Mrs. Donnelly. And if you’ll -sort o’ mother her a little I’ll be real thankful. Gincy’s never been -away from home before, and her folks were going to feel so easy because I -was with her. Don’t feel bad, it couldn’t be helped, I reckon, and maybe -I’ll come back next year.” - -Talitha’s heart was heavy indeed as she climbed the stairs to her room. -She found Gincy in a corner weeping piteously over the few belongings -gathered in a little heap. Talitha knelt beside her and put an arm -tenderly around the thin, bowed shoulders. - -“Put your things right back, Gincy,” she said, “you’re going to stay -after all. I’ve just seen Mrs. Donnelly.” - -Gincy looked up in astonishment that at first was too great for words. -“You don’t mean hit?” she gasped at last, clutching her friend’s arm. - -“Sure I do,” Talitha nodded with a smile. Her own burden lightened -wonderfully at the sight of Gincy’s radiant face and suddenly dried -tears. She left the girl putting her belongings back in drawers and -closet with a joyful haste. Gincy had not even inquired how this -transformation had been wrought; it was enough for her to know that she -was not to be sent home. - -Talitha’s next duty was to find Martin and make known her resolution. -After a long search he was discovered in the library with a pile of -reference books before him. He looked up with shining eyes. She knew -how he rejoiced in the opportunity for another year’s work. It would -take away half his pleasure to learn that she would not be there to share -it, still she was confident that he would see the wisdom of her resolve. -At a sign from her he followed wonderingly out back of the building to a -seat under one of the large trees of the campus where they would be -unnoticed. - -“How’s Gincy coming on? She isn’t getting homesick a’ready, is she?” he -inquired. - -“Gincy! Not much; she’s pleased as can be with everything here. That’s -what I came to see you about.” Talitha paused and looked down at her -folded hands, while Martin sat staring at her in bewilderment. “Mrs. -Donnelly came to see me this morning,” she went on presently. “She told -me that Gincy must go home, that there is no place for her. So many -girls have come this fall the rooms are crowded.” - -“Go home!” repeated Martin indignantly. “Oh, we can’t let her; she -mustn’t.” - -“Of course not. She’s been crying till she’s ’most beat out, but I’ve -been thinking it over and Gincy’s going to stay. I’ve just seen Mrs. -Donnelly again—” - -“Well, I’m mighty glad!” Martin gave a long breath of relief. “How did -you manage it, Tally?” - -“I’m going home instead,” she answered calmly. - -“You!” Her brother sprang up excitedly. “Tally, I won’t hear to it!” - -“Yes, you will. Sit down, Mart, you’d do the same thing if you were in -my place, you know you would. I’m not going to be selfish. Gincy’s -never had any chance and I’ve had a whole year here. Maybe I can come -back again some time, but if I knew I couldn’t I should go just the -same.” - -“But you can’t go home alone,” Martin objected. - -“Yes, I can. I’ll take the train to the Gap and I’m not afraid to walk -the rest of the way.” - -“Well, Tally, I suppose you’re right,” her brother said at last, “but -it’ll take the sunshine out of the whole year for me, to know that you’re -missing all this. And I’d counted so on the good times we’d have -together.” - -“Now, Mart, don’t you worry about me one minute. I reckon it’s all for -the best. Maybe there’s something special in the mountains for me to do; -I’m going to try to think so anyway.” - -“What reason are you going to give the folks for going home?” - -“I’m going to tell them the truth that there wasn’t room for so many -girls. I shan’t say a word about Gincy only that she’s well and having a -fine time.” - -That afternoon while Gincy was out of the room, Talitha removed the tiny -wardrobe she had brought, to make room for Urilla’s. Long before light -the next morning, while Gincy slept soundly, all unaware of her friend’s -sacrifice, Talitha boarded the train which could only take her so short a -distance toward home. She sank into a seat timidly. She had never -travelled alone before, and when she reached the Gap the loneliest part -was yet to come. - -As the train pulled out she tried to wave a cheerful good-bye to Martin, -who stood disconsolately outside in the darkness. The coach was full of -people who had evidently travelled all night, for they were in all sorts -of positions trying to get a little sleep. Talitha’s eyes were -sleepless, although she had hardly closed them that night. It was -disagreeably warm and stuffy. She longed to open the window, but the -girl beside her was propped comfortably in the corner of the seat, -oblivious to her surroundings. - -Talitha looked at her curiously. She was a mountain girl, that was -evident, but not from Goose Creek nor the Settlement—possibly from -Redbird. She might be kin to the Twilligers, there were legions of them -scattered through the mountains, and she favoured them wonderfully, now -Talitha thought of it. - -Suddenly the girl opened her eyes and stared at Talitha. “I reckon I -must hev been asleep,” she said with a wide yawn. “Whar did you git on?” - -“At Bentville.” - -“Bentville! What kind of a place is hit? I come purty nigh goin’ thar -onct and then I changed my mind. I couldn’t pin myself down ter book -larnin’ nohow.” - -Talitha viewed the speaker with astonishment. “What’s your name?” she -inquired coldly. - -“Piny Twilliger.” - -“Did you know that Gincy Gooch is going to school at Bentville?” asked -Talitha. - -“Law me, why Gincy’s my cousin. Whatever put hit into her head? I -wouldn’t hev thought hit of her.” - -“Then you don’t know Gincy,” was the retort. “She’s as ambitious as can -be and loves to study. She’s going to be somebody, I tell you. Abner’s -at school too, and their folks are so proud of them.” - -“Law me,” said the girl again. “I never heerd of any kin ter the -Twilligers takin’ ter larnin’ afore,” and she relapsed into silent -amazement. She had not recovered speech when the small station at the -Gap was reached. - -“Ter think I never asked her name!” murmured Gincy’s cousin in sudden -dismay as Talitha left the car. - - - - -IV -THE STORM - - -WHEN Talitha alighted from the train the sun had not yet risen, but the -rosy banners which heralded its coming floated wide across the eastern -sky. It was on a morning like this that she and Martin had started -homeward with such elation of spirits, such hopes for the coming year. -But then summer was just begun; now it had gone and her hopes with it. - -She started across the foothills and up the long mountain trail, the old -elasticity gone from her step, the hardness of her lot weighting her -down. It seemed as though her feet could never carry her the long, weary -way home. Upon a jutting crag she stopped and looked back. Far in the -distance, cradled among the foothills of the Cumberlands, it lay, the -place of her heart’s desire. Would she ever see it again? - -Talitha looked at the sky. The breakfast bell would be ringing by this -time, and happy, laughing faces gathered around the long tables. Her -head bowed as though she could hear the fervent grace, and a sob rose in -her throat. Suddenly the petition of a young leader at prayers, the -night before, came to her: “Wilt Thou give us strength and courage to -meet bravely the trials and temptations of each day.” How full of -meaning they were to the one who uttered them Talitha well knew. Owen -Calfee’s face showed with what high courage he was meeting the hardships -which had beset his path from early youth. - -Talitha fiercely blinked back the tears. “I’m plumb spoilin’ everythin’ -by my foolishness,” she thought aloud, unconsciously relapsing into the -speech of the mountains. “I reckon hit ain’t pleasin’ ter the Lord—my -thinkin’ sech sorry thoughts. I’ve clean forgotten that I’d ought ter be -thankful that Martin could stay and that Gincy’s havin’ a chance. My, -but if she isn’t the happiest child!” Talitha rose reluctantly. “I -shouldn’t like to be caught in the dark, and that’s what I’m bound to be -if I stop here any longer.” She stretched out her hands toward the -valley with a wistful gesture of parting. “I’m so glad you’re there, -Gincy,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t have you home for nothing.” - -Through the long forenoon’s weary climb up the mountain’s interminable -slope and over its craggy crest to the other side, she resolutely laid -aside all thoughts of her disappointment and began making plans to be put -into execution as soon as possible after reaching home. - -At noon she was almost thankful that she had not reached the creek where -the little party had lunched so happily two days before. Now she spread -her simple fare upon a smooth ledge and watched the varied light and -shadow across the fast changing foliage as she ate. The birds fluttered -and sang in the pines above her head. Now and then one grew bold enough -to fly down for the crumbs she scattered upon the ground. Over the -opposite edge of the flinty table a pair of bright eyes peered longingly. -Talitha laughed as she flung the bushy-tailed visitor her last morsel, -and rose to resume her journey. - -She planned to reach home by supper time, but it had not been so easy to -travel without the aid of a strong arm over the roughest places. No -thought of fear had entered her mind until that moment; now the prospect -of being alone at night on those wooded heights where the darkness was -dense under the thick branching trees made her shrink. - -The afternoon was half gone when Talitha dropped down at the foot of a -pine, tired and footsore. She was not yet rested from the journey of the -two days previous, and it seemed as though her aching feet could never -carry her home that night. She sat debating with herself as to the -possibility of finding a nearby shelter. Not a cabin was in sight. She -looked around anxiously, shading her eyes with her hand, to peer along -the ridges. A broad shaft of sunlight lay across the leafage of the -opposite mountain. How vividly it brought out the autumn tints which -flecked the green like rich tapestry. Then, with a frightened gasp of -dismay, she noticed for the first time the pile of threatening clouds in -the west, and the long, deep shadows which lay in the hollows of those -great hills. - -Over the highest peak of the ridge beyond, they were coming—the slim, -mist-coloured lances of the storm. Down the mountain-side they marched, -legion after legion. A swift line of fire zigzagged above their heads, -and suddenly the sky seemed filled with the rattle of musketry. - -Talitha fled, at the first sign of approach, to the shelter of a thick -cluster of oaks. She reached it trembling and breathless only to see a -cabin a few rods beyond. Without waiting to speculate who its occupants -might be, she ran to it, the storm at her back, the wind contesting each -step over the rough slope. Her little bundle was a cumbrous weight upon -her shoulders. - -At the door the girl knocked hurriedly. Her heart was beating fast. It -was twilight around her, and the voice of the storm came up with a -terrible roar. There was no answer from within the cabin and the door -did not open, but in her great stress Talitha entered timidly. - -The wind closed the door violently behind her before she realized that -the place was not empty. The feeble flame in the fireplace left the one -room mostly in shadow, but it revealed the occupant, a weazened old man, -wrapped in a faded quilt, sitting before the hearth. Talitha felt a -sudden relief that she was not alone while such a storm raged outside. A -man sick and perhaps in need of care was not to her an object of fear -even though a stranger. - -“I declar’ if hit ain’t Tally Coyle!” came in wheezy tones from the -depths of the bed-quilt. “I ’lowed you war off ter the valley school -long ’fore this.” - -Talitha could hardly find her voice so great was her astonishment. She -had gone farther out of her way than she knew to stumble upon her old -teacher’s cabin. “Why, howdy, Mr. Quinn, you aren’t sick, are you?” she -said, throwing down her bundle and shaking the raindrops from her moist -skirts. - -“Jest ailin’ a leetle mite. I hevn’t been what you mought call -robustious the hull summer, and last week I was took with a mis’ry in my -chist. I’ve been honin’ the hull day ter see some one and here you’ve -come. I reckon the Lord sent you.” The old man broke into a wheezing -cough which left him panting. - -Talitha went to the fireplace and piled on fresh wood with a lavish hand. -There was a brisk crackling as the flames shot upward merrily. “I’m -going right to get supper,” she declared, forgetful of her weariness. - -Si Quinn spread his hands before the blaze with a sigh of content, and -watched the girl as she bustled about the cabin. There was much to do -before even a simple meal could be prepared, for the schoolmaster’s -housekeeping even in health was sadly at variance with the methods -Talitha had learned at school the past year. - -She brushed the floor as best she could with the stubby old broom, and -then attacked the pile of soiled dishes energetically. Outside, the -storm raged with fury, and a little rivulet trickled from under the door -across the rough boards of the floor. Later the corn pone was set to -baking, while the girl fried a platter of bacon and a dish of potatoes. -In a corner of the fireplace, on a few coals among the hot ashes, the -coffee pot sent forth an odour delightful to the nostrils of a -half-famished man. Si Quinn sniffed it eagerly. - -“I hain’t set down ter sech a meal o’ vittles sence I war ter your -house,” he remarked gleefully as he drew his chair to the table and -helped himself liberally to the homely fare. “A squar’ meal will do me a -heap more good’n medsun. If I war reel sodden in selfishness, I’d wish -you hadn’t any kin and could stay right along here with me. But I ain’t, -I’m thankful you’ve got a better place’n this ol’ shack.” - -Talitha looked at him curiously. She had never seen her old schoolmaster -in such a kindly, paternal mood. In her younger days, the lean, -spectacled face had inspired her with awe and a kind of terror. But -since her return from Bentville she thought of him with pity, not -unmingled with contempt, at his ignorance and dogged belief in the -strange theories which still prevailed in the isolated portions of the -mountains. She looked at the haggard old face that showed unmistakable -signs of past suffering, with a troubled conscience. - -At last Si Quinn leaned back with a long sigh of satisfaction. “I reckon -you’ve ’bout saved my life, Tally. I war beginnin’ ter feel hit warn’t -much use ter hold on ter this world when thar warn’t nobody seemin’ ter -care speshul. Then you came along jest as though you’d been blowed -acrost the mountings. I’m mighty cur’us ’bout hit, Tally. Only a couple -o’ days ago, Dan Gooch looked in and said you-uns, and Ab and Gincy, hed -started fer school. Did the folks down thar reckon you’d hed ’nough -larnin’ and send you back?” - -Talitha hesitated. She wisely felt the need of being very cautious as to -the report which would go abroad. “We did go,” she acknowledged, “but -the Girls’ Hall was full—just running over, the dean said—and the folks -around had taken all they could. There wasn’t another one could be -squeezed in, so I came—back,” she concluded, a renewed sense of her -disappointment nearly overwhelming her. - -“Whar’s Gincy?” demanded the old man keenly. - -“Oh, she stayed. She hasn’t ever had a chance, you know. She’d have -been terribly disappointed to have had to come home, and so would her -father; he’s been lottin’ on it all summer. I’m so glad they let her -stay,” Talitha added, fervently hoping that her secret had not slipped -out unaware. - -“Hit’s cur’us, mighty cur’us,” mused Si Quinn, looking off into the fire -as though he had not heard a word Talitha had been saying. “Here I’d -been askin’ and askin’ the Lord ter send you here, then Dan Gooch comes -’long and ’lows I won’t set eyes on you agin till next summer and here -you be. Ain’t hit cur’us?” - -“I never heard you were sick,” faltered the girl. “I’d have come before -if I’d only known.” - -“That wan’t hit,” rejoined the schoolmaster. “I’ve allers done fer -myself, sick or well. I hain’t ever been used ter bein’ coddled afore, -that ain’t what’s on my mind, Tally. I wanted ter tell you thet I’ve -been a sorry teacher, but I never sensed hit till you-uns came back from -Bentville. I never had no sech chance ter git larnin’, and hit seems a -turrible pity you couldn’t hev stayed, but I know ’thout your tellin’ me -that you-uns came back ter give Gincy a chanct—” - -“Oh, you mustn’t tell,” implored Talitha. “Father’d be so angry.” - -“Hit shan’t git no further, but hit war jest like Tally Coyle ter do hit, -and mebbe the Lord had a hand in hit, too. I cal’late He knew jest how -much the Goose Creek school needed a teacher, fer I ain’t ever goin’ back -thar agin, Tally. My teachin’ days air over, but my heart hones fer -those pore lambs that’s so set on gittin’ larnin’. I want you ter take -’em and teach ’em all you kin. Mebbe next year you-uns kin go back ter -Bentville. Hit seems queer they couldn’t hev put up some kind of a shack -fer the gals ter stay in. A lot of strong, young fellers like Mart, now, -could hev taken holt.” - -“Oh, yes, of course,” agreed Talitha, “but it would take money to make it -comfortable, and the Bentville folks haven’t any to spare.” - -The old man nodded thoughtfully. “Hit’s mighty strange when I’ve heerd -thar’s folks livin’ in cities that’s more money’n they can anyways spend. -And here’s the mounting boys and gals a-thirstin’ fer the larnin’ they -can’t git.” The girl crouched before the fire puzzled over this new -problem, while Si Quinn creaked back and forth in the old rocker. - -Suddenly it stopped. “I wish you’d git the Book, Tally, over on the -chist, and read a spell; you do hit so easy-like.” - -Outside, in the wild night, the wind wailed loudly along the wooded -ridges of the great hills and hurled itself in angry gusts against the -little cabin unnoticed, as Talitha read chapter after chapter in clear, -unfaltering tones. The old man looked fondly down at her with a paternal -pride. His heart was at peace, for he had bequeathed his life work to -younger, more capable hands, and he rested content. - - - - -V -AN UNEXPECTED RIVAL - - -THE consternation at the Coyle cabin was great indeed when midway of the -next afternoon Talitha appeared, after making the old schoolmaster as -comfortable as possible. Although Sam Coyle had given but a grudging -assent to his daughter’s return to Bentville, he now loudly bewailed the -necessity which prevented her from “gittin’ more larnin’.” - -His wrath cooled, however, when he learned that Si Quinn, who was highly -esteemed by the dwellers around Red Mountain, had abdicated his place in -the Goose Creek school in Talitha’s favour. It was an unprecedented -honour, as “gal” teachers were not looked upon favourably among the -mountaineers. It being the prevailing opinion that only a man could fill -the position with the requisite dignity and severity. - -Remembering the tradition, the beginning was an ordeal from which the -girl inwardly shrank. She had never felt so helplessly ignorant in all -her life, although she had so often smiled with her brother over Si -Quinn’s incompetency. - -It was soon rumoured that the old man had sent for Talitha Coyle to come -home and finish the remaining school months. In the mountains, school -begins the first of July and ends the last of December; when the heavy -rains and snows make travel well-nigh impossible. For a week the little -flock of pupils had been teacher-less, and Talitha was admonished to make -all haste to pass the required examination and begin her duties. The -county seat was twenty-five miles away, and she made preparations to -start for it the very next morning, her father accompanying her. -Fortunately, that night Dan Gooch brought word to the Coyle cabin that -Mr. Breel, head of the board of examiners, was at the Settlement and -would willingly give Talitha an examination if she could be on hand the -next morning. - -With fear and trembling she set forth at dawn the next day to return at -night in triumph. It had not proved so terrible an ordeal as she had -imagined. Mr. Breel had been very kind and wished her success in her -undertaking. - -Before Monday morning came, which should see Talitha installed as -mistress of the little school, complications arose in the shape of Jake -Simcox, a tall, fiery-headed, raw-boned youth. Noting the old -schoolmaster’s growing infirmities the past year, he had resolved to -secure the place. That it was about to be wrested from him by a “gal” -proved too much for human endurance. Laboriously he travelled from one -mountain home to another pleading his cause. But unfortunately for him, -his first call on Dan Gooch made an implacable enemy, for he -thoughtlessly mentioned the Bentville school in terms of derision, -further adding that “Si Quinn, the smartest man in Goose Creek, didn’t -need ter chase off ter git larnin’.” - -But Jake departed, feeling that he had failed miserably in making the -desired impression. He would have felt still more convinced that the -fates were against him could he have known that Dan Gooch immediately -mounted his horse and set out with all possible haste to thwart the new -candidate’s efforts. - -Dan secretly surmised the sacrifice Talitha had made that Gincy should -have her chance, and his gratitude gave him a ready tongue in the -former’s behalf. It was late that night when he and his jaded steed -returned victorious, for every member of the board and a number of -patrons of the school had been surprised at the Settlement store, and -there Jake Simcox’s cause was lost, it being the opinion of the trustees -that the old schoolmaster had a right to name a substitute for the -remainder of the term. - -Jake Simcox did not take his defeat kindly, and to be beaten by a “gal” -was the bitterest drop in his cup. He had a brief pleasure in knowing -that when Talitha began school a number of children whose parents were -his adherents would be absent. - -The young teacher was gathering her courage to meet the conditions to -which she had been accustomed all her life; suddenly they appalled her. -How could she make that bare and desolate place cheerful and inviting to -her pupils? - -Early that Monday morning, long before the time for her scholars to -arrive, she started for the schoolhouse. Halfway up the slope she paused -to consider it—a small log cabin set in the midst of blackberry vines and -tall, brown weeds which reached to the eaves. A narrow, worn path led -through the tangle to the low, front door. Talitha hurried on -breathlessly and opened it. The shutter over the one glassless window at -the rear was also thrown back to let a draught of fresh air through the -damp, musty place. In one corner was a rusty sheet-iron stove, near it a -number of plank benches without backs; while on the opposite side a rude -desk and a single chair completed the furnishings. There were no -blackboards, no maps. The walls were as bare and uninteresting as when -Si Quinn sat in the seat of authority and ruled his little flock—she the -most timid and shrinking of them all—with a rod of iron. - -She sat for a long time thinking until a certain project entered her -mind. It was something to be carefully considered. She sprang up and -filled a tin can with water for the flowers and reddening vines she had -gathered on the way, and placed it on her desk. Next, a large picture -calendar was pinned to the wall and several pictures from a newspaper -supplement—a part of her possessions acquired at Bentville. - -A stream of sunlight through the open window lighted the gay colours on -walls and desk. The children hovered about the door in amazement until -they were bidden to enter. They were all small but Billy Gooch, the -eldest, who was short and stocky for his fourteen years and quite -prepared to be his young teacher’s most zealous champion. - -The feeling of timidity with which Talitha began her duties vanished -before the morning was over; and in its place was a great anxiety to help -her pupils and make more attractive the cheerless place which only a wide -stretch of the imagination could call a schoolhouse. The latter seemed -an impossibility, but when she reached the creek path that night on her -way home, she found Dan Gooch waiting for her, eager for the earliest -news of the day’s proceedings. To this sympathetic listener she told her -needs and plans. He heard her to the end with a silent gravity which -gave little sign of encouragement, but at dawn the next morning, Dan was -in the saddle wending his way to the Settlement store. The flitch of -bacon in his saddlebag had been secretly purloined from the family’s -scanty store to be bartered for a few lengths of sawed timber and a small -quantity of black paint. Dan correctly surmising that the storekeeper, -being a patron of the school, would add his own contribution in the way -of generous measure beside the nails and loan of a hammer. - -A few days later when Talitha entered the schoolroom, two large -blackboards nailed securely to the rough walls met her astonished eyes. -Si Quinn had never been able to evoke the interest which had so suddenly -been aroused in the Goose Creek school. - -The secret which the young teacher had so patiently guarded for weeks was -at last revealed in the shape of maps and several much needed books. A -bundle of papers and magazines from the Bentville school was a welcome -addition to Talitha’s slender stock of material. A lump rose in Dan -Gooch’s throat as he helped her unpack the box from the city publishing -house and hang the maps where the best light from the window would fall -upon them. No words were needed to tell him that a large part of the -money, hoarded so carefully for Talitha’s expenses at Bentville, had been -spent in their purchase, and three of his children would be benefited by -them. Mentally he resolved that it should all be returned to her some -day in good measure. - -Si Quinn was not ignorant of his former pupil’s successes. As often as -his health permitted he hobbled up the winding path and sat contentedly, -like a happy child, listening to the young teacher explaining things of -which he had never heard. At times he would shake his head in -bewilderment, but he never disputed her word, even when his most -cherished theory—that the earth was square—was disproved. His dulled -brain failed to grasp the explanation, but the bigoted faith in his own -meagre stock of knowledge died pitifully away. - -Jake Simcox also was not unmindful of his rival’s success as a teacher. -With increasing anger he heard her praises sounded. Already his friends -had yielded to their children’s entreaties and sent them to school. Jake -kept aloof from the place until one day, wandering idly across the -foothills, he came suddenly in full view of the schoolhouse perched on -the side of Red Mountain. Its worn, weather-beaten logs looked ancient -enough against the autumn-tinted foliage. As he looked, the scowl on his -face deepened. He hesitated a moment, then took the trail toward it. -The place would be deserted for it was long past school time; there was -not a house in sight, still he approached it cautiously with sly, furtive -glances around. - -Before he reached the building he could see that the weeds and blackberry -bushes had been exterminated, and in their places were broad-leaved ferns -planted close to the rough sides, and a healthy ivy that in another year -would give both grace and beauty to the walls. Jake eyed these changes -with a sneer. He tried the door; it was locked, an unheard-of thing -which he also resented. After much effort he unfastened the shutter, -threw it back, and sprang into the room. - -The light of the setting sun streamed in broad shafts over the crest of -the mountain straight into the schoolhouse and illumined it to the -farthest corner. The autumn flowers and vines on the desk glowed -crimson. The blackboards, maps, and pictures had transformed the place; -it was bare no longer. A pail of water on a box, with a basin, towel, -and soap, was another innovation. - -Secretly, Jake Simcox felt himself dwindle and grow small before such -superior knowledge, yet it only served to rouse him to greater -indignation that a “gal” should be better qualified to teach than he. -Striding to the desk he turned the leaves of the text-books Talitha -cherished so carefully, with a rough hand, shaking his head over the -bewildering pages. Naturally impetuous, his fiery temper once thoroughly -aroused swept him away in unreasoning wrath. At last he dropped upon a -bench, moodily taking note of every object around him until they seemed -seared into his memory. - -The sun sank behind the mountain’s crest and the long shadows deepened -down the slopes. They crept silently in at the open window and filled -the room with gloom, and still he huddled there frowning until only a -faint, grey light struggled at the square opening. Then Jake moved -slightly. Two forces were wrestling within him—one very feebly, now worn -out with the unequal conflict. He sprang up, and, listening at every -step, closed the shutter cautiously and struck a match. There was a -basket of pine cones and crisp leaves behind the stove. He lifted the -lid and thrust them in. Another match and the mass was ablaze. -Recklessly the wood from a generous box full was thrown upon it, and then -in the midst of this furnace of flame hastily, as though his conscience -would smite him in the act, he caught the books from the desk and threw -them upon the pile. The pictures from the walls followed, the maps—what -he could tear off in great clinging shreds—were also added to the -holocaust. - -The stove was red hot by this time and roaring like a young volcano. The -miscreant burned his fingers putting on the cover, and then it glowered -at him like a red monster as he watched it. Already his rage was -somewhat cooled; the provocation which had led to such a deed began to -look miserably small. He looked around at the bared walls and wished he -could put everything back as he found it. - -But instead of dying down the fire seemed to wax hotter; there was a -snapping and crackling in the short length of pipe. A strange smell -suddenly pervaded the place which the frightened Jake knew was the mud -and stick chimney. It was afire, and while he stared in consternation, -he heard it crumble and fall. - -For a moment the young fellow stood rooted to the spot. In his thirst -for revenge he had committed a most serious offence, for which the -mountaineers—a law unto themselves—would not hesitate to mete out a swift -punishment. The cabin was doomed. The flames had leaped to the roof; -the stovepipe reeled and hung tipsily, ready to drop in a moment. - -Terror stricken, Jake Simcox flung back the shutter and leaped out into -the darkness. Like some wild thing of the mountains he fled down the -slope, on and on, only looking back once to see forked tongues of light -against the sky reaching higher and higher, until a swift, illumining -flash told that the great pine behind the little schoolhouse had caught -fire, and like a signal torch was blazing his shameful deed to all the -mountains. Where could he go to escape the consequences? - -He turned toward a thicket of young trees to aid his escape, but as he -reached it a lumbering body emerged and proceeded leisurely toward the -creek, the measured jingle of a bell marking every step. - - - - -VI -HUNTING A VARMINT - - -SUPPER was late at the Gooch cabin. Brindled Bess, who daily supplied a -large portion of the evening meal, had strayed farther away than usual. -For more than an hour Billy and his sister had been searching the -mountain-side. - -From his doorstep Dan looked gloomily forth into the fast gathering -night. If the animal, suddenly startled at the brink of a ledge, had -leaped over, it would be a sore calamity to the family. Dan listened to -the clatter of dishes inside the cabin until hunger and suspense overcame -him. He started up and with rapid strides disappeared across the -mountain in a haste entirely foreign to his habits. - -Both eye and ear were keenly alert. There was a strange, coppery glow on -the eastern horizon. It reached far above the treetops, lurid and -threatening against the soft blue of the evening sky. - -“Some foolish feller’s let his bresh fire git away from him, I reckon,” -commented Dan. But he went on without hearing a sound save those of the -night. - -Suddenly, there was a crackling of bushes above the creek path, the thud -of hurried, stumbling steps. They came nearer until he could hear -panting breaths, and Sudie was flying past him white-faced, wild-eyed, -her hair streaming out like a frightened dryad of the mountains. - -Dan caught roughly at her arm, and but for his grip she would have fallen -in terror. “What’s the matter? Whar’s thet cow critter?” he demanded. - -Sudie struggled with her sobs. “Oh, pappy, the schoolhouse is afire! -Hit’s all-burnin’-up!” she gasped. - -“What!” ejaculated her father in amazement. - -“Hit shore is,” asseverated Billy, coming up red-faced and panting. “We -war a-headin’ the cow critter this way when we seen the fire a-bustin’ -out’n the roof. Hit’s—” But Dan had not waited to hear more. He was -sprinting in the direction of the schoolhouse like a boy. His children -watched him for a moment in open-mouthed astonishment at such unheard-of -alacrity on their father’s part, then followed. - -A good quarter of a mile brought him in plain sight of the burning -building, where he could plainly see the futility of further effort. The -little schoolhouse was a mass of flame, but the old, well-seasoned logs -would burn for hours yet. Fortunately the heavy shower of the morning -prevented the flames from spreading, the weeds and bushes had been so -thoroughly cleared away. Only the sentinel pine at the back of the cabin -was doomed. - -Sudie clung to her father, sobbing wildly. “What’ll Tally say? We can’t -never go to school no more,” she wailed. - -“Hesh, honey, hit don’t do no good ter take on thet a-way,” urged Dan. -“Somebody must hev been mighty keerless with matches or the like ter hev -fired hit. I reckoned Tally’d hed more sense.” - -“Hit warn’t her,” Billy burst out, anxious to vindicate his teacher. -“Hit war thet Jake Simcox, I’ll be boun’. Jest as we hove in sight of -the place I seen him a-scootin’ fer the pines like a painter war after -him.” - -“The low-down, sneakin’ varmint! Thet’s jest who did hit, and he ’lowed -not ter git ketched in the night time. He’ll git larned better. The -dark’ll kiver a heap o’ things, but no sech deed as this.” All the -fierceness that lies smouldering in the nature of the average mountain -man leaped into as fierce a flame as that consuming the little -schoolhouse. His younger children’s opportunities had been snatched from -them by this miscreant. He should not escape—a swift, deserved -punishment should be meted out to this offender as only mountain men -could measure it. - -“Run home, Sudie, and tell your mammy she’ll hev ter tend ter the cow -critter ter-night, me and Billy won’t be back fer a spell. Thar’s a heap -ter be done before mornin’.” - -His father’s ominous tone startled Billy. It brought to memory stories -he had heard of the Twilliger and Amyx feuds—his mother was a Twilliger. -He trembled. - -“Son,” said Dan as Sudie disappeared, “do you ’low you can make the Coyle -place ter-night?” - -“I reckon so,” answered Billy, bravely trying to forget that it was long -past his supper time. Mountain justice never waited on hunger. - -“Clip up thar and back as soon as you kin, and tell Sam Coyle fer me, -thet we shall expect ter see him at the Forks ter-morrow mornin’ by -light, ter hunt varmints. They may hev left the kentry, but we’ll smoke -’em out if they’re ter be found. Kin you remember?” - -“Yes, Pappy” - -“Well, I’m goin’ ter the Twilligers. I kin git the boys ter push on to -the Settlemint, and then the news’ll carry fast enough, I reckon,” and -father and son parted. - -At daybreak the Forks was the scene of an assembling of the clans. Old -scores were forgotten. They were meeting in a common cause which had -suddenly endeared itself to all. Not one of the older men but had -children among Tally’s flock, and they had begun to realize what the -school had meant to them. - -Nearly all of the company were horseback, but every member carried a -“shooting iron,” a fact which had its own significance. - -“If we could hev took after thet varmint last night, I reckon we could -hev treed him,” said Eli Twilliger. “But he’d be a plumb fool if he -warn’t out of the kentry by this time. Hit’s a mighty good thing he -hasn’t any kin in these parts.” - -“Them long legs of his’n could take him cornsiderable fur, but he hasn’t -any hoss critter ter save his strength. I reckon he ain’t out of reach -yit. He never war no great hand ter exert hisself, Jake warn’t,” drawled -the blacksmith. - -“Well, he’s gittin’ further off while we’re argefyin’,” objected Dan -Gooch testily. “I ’low hit’s time we war gittin’ down ter bizness. Some -of you fellers take the trails ’tween you, and Sam and I’ll go ’long the -creek. We’ll meet whar the old schoolhouse war, and if you’ve run down -any game you kin bring hit along.” - -At nine o’clock the party straggled in from different directions -empty-handed. Eli Twilliger was the last one. His had been a hard, -rough climb. Thin and wiry, sure of foot as a wild cat, and as ready to -pounce upon the object of his search, not a man knew so well the hiding -places those mighty hills afforded. His shirt was torn, his hands and -face bore scratches received in a careful search through the narrow -subterranean passages which honeycombed the cliffs. Tired and hungry, he -was in an ugly mood as with long strides he made toward the group -gathered at the edge of the pine thicket. - -Dan Gooch turned toward him with a warning finger which he resented. -“What’s do-in’?” he growled. “Hev you caged the varmint and air makin’ a -show of him?” He peered curiously over the intervening shoulders and was -suddenly silenced. - -In sight of the charred, smouldering ruins from which still issued little -puffs of smoke, Talitha, nothing daunted by her ill fortune, had gathered -her little flock. Smiles had begun to cover their tear-stained faces. -It was a delightful novelty to sit on that mossy, sun-flecked bank and -prepare the day’s lessons. Billy Gooch shared his large slate with the -youngest of the Twilligers, and two small girls bent industriously over -the same book. - -The eyes of the rough mountaineers moistened, their hands tightened upon -their rifles ominously. There was a stir among the foremost, and Si -Quinn faced them. His face was like a thunder cloud. One crutch waved -so threateningly that those nearest shrank back. “What air you goin’ ter -do ’bout hit? Thet’s what I want ter ask. You might hev knowed you -couldn’t ketch that feller; he wan’t brung up in the mountings fer -nothin’. Hit was as big a piece of devilment as I ever heerd of, but -mebbe hit won’t be the worst thing could hev happened, except fer the -leetle gal losin’ the money she put inter hit. Let’s go ter work and put -up somethin’ thet won’t shame us. You-all know thet old shack warn’t no -way fitten fer a schoolhouse. I can’t help you ter cut a stick of timber -much as I’d give fer the strength ter do hit, but I’ll give ’nough ter -make up fer all Tally lost—” - -“Sho now, Si, we ain’t goin’ ter let you do hit,” interrupted the -blacksmith. “We’ll jest count your advice wuth thet much, and I reckon -hit air. If we ain’t robustious ’nough ter put up another schoolhouse -and git what Tally needs for our young-uns, I ’low we’re a sorry lot—” - -“How you do go on, Enoch,” jibed Eli Twilliger, pushing his way to the -front. “Air you intendin’ ter take the stump fer the next ’lection? -Let’s git down ter bizness. Thar ain’t nothin’ I can see ter hinder us -from startin’ ter-morrow mornin’, and if the weather is fair Tally shall -hev her schoolhouse in two weeks. Ain’t thet so, boys?” - -For answer, a shout went up that started the echoes from their -hiding-places in the hills. Talitha and her flock looked up at them -wonderingly. She was too far away to comprehend what good fortune was to -be hers, but she could rejoice that something had restored the men to -good humour. Greater than sorrow at the frustrating of her plans and the -loss in which her small savings had been invested, was her horror at the -revival of the old feud spirit. She had learned at the Bentville school -the terribleness of it. In agony she had watched her father the previous -night as he cleaned and loaded his rifle. Jake Simcox had done a -despicable, cowardly thing, but she could not wish him dealt with -according to the code of mountain justice. - -At noon she sent the children home and walked slowly beside the -schoolmaster. There were many questions she wished to ask him, but she -kept silent, knowing that he would speak of his own accord or not at all. - -“Hit war jest as I ’lowed,” he said at last. “Jake took time by the -forelock and mighty well he did.” - -“Oh, I’m so glad they didn’t find him!” exclaimed Talitha in a tone that -struck the schoolmaster oddly. - -“What’s thet, leetle gal! Mighty queer talk fer the gran’darter of a -Bills.” The faded eyes twinkled. - -“I can’t help it, it isn’t right; and it’s a terrible thing for folks to -remember all their lives!” - -“Pore leetle gal,” the old man nodded understandingly. “You warn’t -bigger’n Sudie, I reckon, time o’ the Amyx shootin’. ’Twar a shame ter -saddle you with sech mem’ries. I never did hev much use fer sech doin’s, -and I said so, but hit warn’t a grain o’ use. You might jest as well -talk ter a passel of hounds arter a Bushy tail. But chirk up, you won’t -see Jake in these parts agin. What we’re most consarned ’bout now is -whar you’re goin’ ter keep school when the ugly weather comes on.” - -They had come to the parting of the ways, and here Talitha left the old -man hobbling painfully toward his cabin. - -Si Quinn’s progress homeward was slow. He stopped now and then to regain -his breath and chuckle feebly to himself. “I reckon she thinks I’ve a -heart of stun ter take hit so ca’m, but I ’low Jake Simcox didn’t do sech -a bad thing. Hit war worse fer hisself than fer Goose Creek. Law, -what’ll the gal say when she hears of hit! I reckon I’d better be -sendin’ fer them school fixin’s ter-morrow.” He had reached the cabin -door, and now he shuffled inside, closing it carefully. Shadowed by -pines, the place was always gloomy enough even at mid-day with the -shutters thrown wide. Now he uncovered the coals on the hearth, laid on -a few small sticks, and swung the battered old tea kettle over the blaze. -Then he drew up his chair cosily before it, and thrusting his hand into -his trousers’ pocket brought forth a small leather bag. From it he -counted a number of bills, smoothing each one tenderly across his knee. - -“She shall hev ’em,” he said aloud. “I’ll do without somehow, and hit -won’t be fer long. The old man’s nearin’ the end of the trail—” He -glanced around uneasily, with a vague consciousness of something—he knew -not what. In the far corner of the cabin a pair of eyes, bloodshot and -wild, glared at him from under a thatch of red hair. - -The old man grasped the money. It disappeared in his shirt as he -staggered to his feet and faced the intruder. - -“You needn’t be afeard, I ain’t goin’ ter tech hit.” The figure issued -from the corner lamely. In the light it was still more forbidding. A -bruise on the forehead made a disfiguring, parti-coloured lump on his -otherwise pale, drawn face. “I ain’t teched a thing, not even a crumb, -tho’ I’m ’most famished,” he growled. - -“Hush, you crazy loon!” Si Quinn raised a warning finger. - -“Aw, yes, I know,” sneered the young fellow recklessly. “The dogs air -arter the wolf and they kin hev him.” He threw up his arms wildly. - -“Set down in thet cheer and be still,” commanded the old man. - -Jake dropped obediently into a seat. - -“I ’lowed you war out’n the kentry. Why didn’t you make tracks when you -had a chanct?” - -“I did aim ter,” answered Jake Simcox, “but I fell, crawlin’ over thet -ledge by the Gulch, and I didn’t know nothin’ till this mornin’. I could -hear the men thrashin’ the bushes all ’round me, but I was jest out of -sight of ’em. I wish fer the land they’d tuk me then and thar and done -with hit.” - -“The way of a transgressor is shorely hard,” exclaimed the old man -pityingly. - -“I didn’t go fer ter fire the place, Si, I shore didn’t. I jest thought -ter burn the books and sech. Oh, I don’t know what made me do hit, ’less -I was plumb crazy!” Jake bowed his head in his hands and groaned in -agony. - -The schoolmaster set the coffee pot upon the coals, where it simmered -gently. “Sho now, Jake,” he said kindly, “you’re all beat out. Draw up -and hev a bite; hit ain’t much but hit’ll put some heart in you. I don’t -cornsider thet jest burnin’ thet old shack war sech a turrible sin; hit -war the sperit you done hit in. You did ’low to burn all thet pore gal -spent most of her savin’s on, and thet was the meanest part of the hull -bizness. I allers said thet temper of yours would bring you ter grief. -Hit’s like a skeery hoss critter; when hit gits loose you never can -cal’late on all the didos hit’s goin’ ter cut up. Do you think thet if -you hed another chanct you hev got grit ’nough ter turn ’round in your -tracks?” - -Jake reached a hand over the table and grasped the hard, shrivelled one. -“Oh, I shore would if I could only hev hit,” he answered humbly. “I -shore would, but hit’s too late.” - -“Hit ain’t,” contradicted the old man cheerfully. “So long as you see -the error of your ways, I’ll see thet you git out of this bizness hopin’ -hit’s a lesson you won’t forgit.” - -Until Jake Simcox was able both mentally and physically to make the -journey, he remained in the schoolmaster’s cabin, hiding away in the -little loft at the least sign of danger. - -Late the third night after a hearty supper, Si Quinn filled his knapsack -with provisions and slung it across the young shoulders. “Hike over the -Ohiar line as quick as you kin,” he admonished, “and then find a job near -a school whar you kin git some larnin’. I’m goin’ ter give you this,” -putting a bill in the young fellow’s hand. “Hit’ll help you out till you -git work, if you’re savin’. I’d make hit more, but most of the rest is -goin’ fer books and maps fer Tally’s new schoolhouse they’re buildin’ fer -her.” - -Jake looked up shamefacedly; the money seemed to burn his hand, but to -what straits might he be brought if he refused it. “I’ll pay hit all -back—every cent,” he faltered, “and I shan’t ever fergit what you’ve done -fer me.” Then he was swallowed up by the darkness. - - - - -VII -THE JAM SOCIAL - - -THE tiny, blue calcimined room with one window looking southward seemed -almost palatial in comparison with Gincy’s humble home quarters. Instead -of the overhanging mountains were the foothills and the college gardens. - -She tried to picture the scene back home without her at this early hour. -Her mother milking Brindled Bet, Billy feeding the pigs, and her -father—she couldn’t be thankful enough he wasn’t like Sam Coyle—getting -ready to gather the “crap” in the south cove. - -There was a slight stirring in the lower berth of the double-decker. -“Talitha,” she called out softly. “Air you awake?” But the voice which -answered was not Talitha’s. - -“It’s Urilla,” it said hesitatingly. - -Gincy leaned over and her eyes sought the occupant of the cot below. -Propped up on the pillow was the pale face of the girl who had arrived -yesterday. The solemn brown eyes looked straight up into hers -inquiringly as though not at all sure of a welcome. “I reckon you’re -some surprised,” she said. “You were asleep when I came in last night -and I aimed to keep pretty still.” - -“Yes,” answered Gincy rather dazed. “But whar’s Talitha?” - -Urilla shook her head. “Mrs. Donnelly sent me here—I had this room last -term. I reckon Talitha’s on this floor, though. The first and second -year girls are mostly together.” - -Gincy swung down and began dressing without another word. She would -interview Talitha at breakfast; perhaps they could arrange to room -together after all. Urilla looked too sober for a roommate. “Whar you -from?” Gincy asked finally, rolling up her hair. - -“Jackson County,” Urilla answered promptly. “I rode twenty miles -yesterday and the road was might rocky. Where’d you come from?” - -“Over in Clay,” Gincy smiled into the tired face as she answered. “I -should think you’d be plumb tickled to be back. Seems like you couldn’t -stay away from here nohow, but I heerd you say your mammy war sick,” she -added, anxious not to appear lacking in friendly interest. - -“Not bed sick, or I couldn’t have come. She’s up, but I keep studying -about her and wondering if Sallie—that’s my next sister—will keep her -from working. Mother’s had a spell of fever and don’t seem to get -strong.” - -Apparently, Urilla was fumbling in the little trunk on the floor for some -article of wearing apparel, but Gincy saw the teardrops, and instantly -her tender heart warmed. She stooped over and took the pale face between -her two hard little palms. “You mustn’t fret, honey, mammy had the fever -a couple of years back, and she’s robustious as kin be now.” - -Urilla looked the thanks her lips were unable to speak. In a minute she -had regained her composure, and by the time the breakfast bell sounded, -her few belongings were carefully hung in her half of the little closet, -the bedclothes airing, and the tiny dresser in perfect order. - -Together they went down the long flights of stairs, but not to the same -dining-room. Gincy had been assigned to a table in the Annex where -Martin and Talitha ate, but the latter had not arrived. Silently she -waited for the blessing, and then catching Martin’s eye, “Whar’s -Talitha?” she inquired. - -“I don’t know—exactly,” he answered with hesitation and truthfully, he -thought. She might be anywhere between Clover Bottom and Lost Creek by -this time. - -Gincy ate her oatmeal without suspicion. Why should Martin know after -all, when he roomed halfway across the campus? Another thought came to -her. Perhaps Talitha had volunteered to go to one of the cottages that -she might stay in the hall. It was just like her to be so unselfish. - -This was the morning for registering, and Gincy felt very new indeed. In -the absence of Talitha, Urilla and Kizzie Tipton offered to act as -escorts. It seemed hours before her end of the line reached the desk and -she was assigned to an examination in the Industrial Building a block -away. Her sunny face was quite woe-begone as they started. - -“Don’t you fret,” admonished Urilla. “I know just how you feel, but you -needn’t be afraid.” - -“I’m plumb ’shamed of my ignorance. I won’t be nowhar ’side of you-all,” -Gincy answered disconsolately. - -“You’ll be just where I was last year,” consoled Kizzie. - -“Do you reckon so? Well, I’m bound ter work every minnit now I’ve got -started.” Gincy’s mouth showed an even line of determination. She -looked around curiously as they entered the big, brick building. On -either side of the wide stairway were the rooms for cooking and sewing. -Students were passing in and out. - -“I’ve had cooking,” said Urilla, “and I’ve taught Sallie to make good -bread.” - -“I’d rather take sewing; it’s easier.” Kizzie’s black eyes twinkled. - -“If I had my ruthers it would be cookin’,” declared Gincy. “I could help -mammy a heap; hit’s better to move ’round some, too.” - -A crowd was constantly passing up and down the stairs leading to the -second floor. Some of the boys and girls had yellow slips in their -hands; a few looked worried. In the large, upstairs classrooms there was -a sprinkling of parents. Many had come a score of miles with ox teams -and stood around anxiously awaiting the result of the examination. - -All new pupils were assigned to Room 2, and here Gincy discovered Abner, -his yellow head bent over a sheet of paper covered with figures. Gincy -regarded him with confidence. Abner was strong in arithmetic—the one -study the mountain teachers had impressed upon their pupils. For herself -she was not so sure. Her knowledge of geography was hazy. In grammar -the parts of speech had been carefully reviewed, but she was in doubt -about parsing, and diagramming looked to her like a jumble of words -tumbling over a precarious footing of loose boards. She dropped into a -vacant seat near the door while Urilla looked for a teacher who was not -too busy to interview her. Presently, she returned, and Gincy found -herself shaking hands with an attractive young woman whose near-sighted -brown eyes held the friendliest look in the world. - -“I’m so glad to meet you, Miss Gooch; you’re from Clay County? You’ll -find a good many boys and girls from there. Urilla told me all about you -at breakfast time and we’re going to help you get acquainted. You’ll be -one of my specials on the third floor, I can tell that by looking at -you.” - -Gincy’s heart took sudden courage. If all the teachers were going to be -like Miss Howard she certainly would be a “special” if she had to study -all night to accomplish it. Miss Howard sat close and questioned her -softly, not seeming to mind when she stumbled or failed entirely. Gincy -had a musical voice and read the easy selections in a way which pleased -the teacher, for she recommended elocution and sub-normal arithmetic on -the little slip which Gincy bore away an hour later. The other studies -were not wholly settled, but it seemed like a good beginning. - -“Be sure to come to the Jam Social to-night,” had been Miss Howard’s -parting words, and Gincy had promised readily, although not feeling at -all sure what a “Jam Social” really was. - -She wandered around from one building to another, nowhere encountering -Talitha or any one who had seen her. Once inside the Hall again she went -straight to the office to question Mrs. Donnelly. - -From behind a desk piled high with mail, the dean answered, “She’s gone -home, Miss Gooch.” - -“Gone home! When?” Gincy’s voice sounded strange to her own ears. - -“About two o’clock this morning. She slept with me last night and Martin -saw her off.” - -“But why? Was any one sick—or?” The dean shook her head and began to -open her mail. Suddenly Gincy knew it all. Talitha had gone that she -might stay. After working so hard, too. What would Sam Coyle say to -her? Not willing to make any sacrifices himself—for his children’s -good—he would be angry to have them generous with others. Gincy turned -and went up to her room. How could she accept such a sacrifice? She -wrestled with the problem for hours, then in despair thought of Miss -Howard. The little teacher listened patiently with one soft hand -covering the girl’s work-roughened one. When Gincy had ended with a sob -in her voice, Miss Howard’s arm stole around her and held her close. - -“Don’t worry, dear, Talitha will come back to us some time. She’s -determined to have an education. She has chosen to give you your chance -now; make the very best of it. It would be foolish for you to start home -and disappoint her—it would be useless, too. She’s going to write you in -a day or so.” - -Somewhat comforted, Gincy went back to her room. On every side doors -were ajar and girls unpacking. There was the merry chatter of friends -long separated, and those newly found, which sent a delightful glow -through the heart of the mountain girl. Few and far between were the -opportunities for sociability back in the hills, and as she realized what -she was gaining, a keen sense of Talitha’s loss smote her. - -“You’d better get ready for the Social before dinner,” a voice called out -from behind, and Kizzie overtook Gincy. “I’ll call for you and Urilla -promptly at seven.” - -“I’d forgotten hit, sure enough,” answered Gincy, quickening her steps. - -Early in the evening the large chapel blazed forth a welcome to the -returning students from its many windows. From every direction they -came—in groups or singly. Above, was a starlit sky, and the air was full -of a soft, sweet melody unlike anything Gincy had ever heard before. Her -ears, used only to the thrum of the banjo, or a crude performance on a -small reed organ, were thrilled with delight as the college band finished -the overture from “William Tell.” - -She glanced shyly at Urilla to see if her emotion was shared, but the -quiet face betrayed nothing more than deep satisfaction at being once -more among her beloved schoolmates. - -The great auditorium was filling rapidly. Happy faces peered down from -the galleries, girls and boys elbowed their way past, calling out hearty -greetings to those they recognized. There was a short lull when the -president made his welcoming speech; after that, it seemed to Gincy a -thousand hives had swarmed. Abner and Martin caught the spirit at once -and moved constantly from one group to another shaking hands, exchanging -jokes, and growing merrier each moment. Gincy watched them astonished. -Abner’s light hair was tossed back like a mane, his cheeks were rosy, his -eyes alight with fun. Martin took it more quietly, but never had she -seen such a look of pleasure in his face. - -Gincy forgot her plain dress—plain even in comparison with the simple -clothes around her—and the fact that she was surrounded by hundreds of -strange faces. The spirit of youth—so often quenched in these young -mountain people before it fairly shows itself—was clamouring for -expression. She drew a long breath and decided to be one of the gay -company. - -An hour later as the three girls emerged from the building which the bell -in the tower had suddenly hushed, Gincy felt that she had come into her -own. Her timidity had vanished, and a pleasant presage of popularity -made her innocently merry and once more her own natural self. - - - - -VIII -THE MASTER KEY - - -IT was nearly time for the rising bell, and Gincy propped herself up on -one elbow to watch the light creeping above the foothills and the ox -teams crawling along Big Hill pike. - -Suddenly, she remembered her new duties as monitor of the third floor. -It was so hard lately to keep order during study hours and after the last -bell at night. Gincy could not help connecting it in some way with Nancy -Jane Ping and Mallie Green, the two recent arrivals from her own county. -They had been reproved time and again for an untidy room, but it seemed -to do no good. - -“They’re always studyin’ up some foolishness to keep things upset,” she -declared disgustedly. Gincy had been feeling particularly lonely now -that Urilla had gone home for a whole week; things had been happening, -too. Miss Howard was at her wit’s end to discover the offenders, so sly -were they, but Kizzie Tipton and Lalla Ponder were always the victims. - -Sometimes the bedding was piled in a heap in the middle of the floor, or -Lalla’s school hat was filled with water and her best dress missing only -to be found later folded under the mattress. The vandals covered their -tracks very neatly, and Miss Howard, knowing the excitable temperaments -around her, kept the matter as quiet as possible. - -Gincy thought it over carefully until breakfast time, then decided to do -some special detective work for the reputation of the Hall. “Some fracas -between their kin, I reckon.” Gincy was used to the mountain feuds, -which, like a slumbering fire, always broke out in unexpected places. -“Mallie’s been left to run till she’s no ’count; why don’t she study to -get some learnin’ stid o’ hatchin’ up deviltry? Nancy Jane and she make -a team; looks like they don’t show good sense.” Gincy shook her head -sadly, thinking how hard she had worked for the privilege which others -esteemed so lightly. School had meant for her sacrifice, and long hours -of toil. - -Saturday was a busy day in the Hall. Its many corridors were thoroughly -swept and mopped, the rooms carefully cleaned. Gincy was here and there -and everywhere on the third floor. By lunch time there was a sharp -twinge in her left ear which sent the blood throbbing to her temples. -Her own room was spotless. Urilla’s family photographs were tucked in -the wire rack where they would show to the best advantage, the ugly ink -spot on the chenille table spread was turned to the wall, and the small -stove was shining. But the occupant was not tempted by odours of fresh -gingerbread or turnip salad coming from below. Her work for the day was -done. She had counted on going to Lee’s Knob with a walking party for a -picnic supper. Suddenly, all ambition had left her. When she awoke from -her long nap her earache was gone, but there lingered in her memory a -curious dream. The room key had been stolen and Miss Howard was in -trouble. - -Another bell rang. This time it was for dinner, but Gincy still felt -little inclination to move, and a curious absence of hunger. There were -loitering feet, then hurrying, then the distant clatter from the Annex -announced that the meal was in progress. Gincy surveyed the tired face -in the glass as she brushed her hair and resolutely choked back the -homesick hunger which the free life of the mountains had fostered. - -“I might jest as well walk down that way and see if things air all -right.” How loud her steps sounded on the bare corridor floor. Gincy -paused before trying the door of Number 16. She did hope that Lalla and -Kizzie had left it locked. But no, here was the key, and on the outside, -too. “I call thet plumb shiftlessness,” she told herself disgustedly. -The girls certainly needed a lesson. Gincy stuck her head in, carefully -surveyed the room, and then locked the door, slipping the key into her -pocket. Let them go to Miss Howard when they wanted to get in. She came -back to her own room and sat down by the window. In a few minutes the -evening song, in one harmonious chorus, was wafted to her ears, then -snatches of it floated up the stairs as the girls returned to their -rooms. Some one tapped lightly, then turned the knob, and peered in. It -was Mallie Green, and Gincy fancied she looked surprised to see her. - -“Howdy! I was passing and I thought—I’d see—why—you wan’t at dinner.” -Mallie blurted it out in her usual explosive fashion, her gaze shifting -evasively. - -“I didn’t feel to want any; my ear aches,” answered Gincy with a sudden -accession of coolness toward the small, shrinking figure. She had been a -target for Nancy Ping’s ready wit many a time, but to-day Mallie seemed -far less likable. Every minute her suspicions grew stronger. Why was -Mallie poking into people’s rooms and pretending—Gincy felt it to be mere -pretending—to be friends? It was more than mere prankishness to put wet -towels on a pile of freshly-ironed clothes, it was malicious, especially -as the girls were all trying to economize as much as possible. - -A few minutes later Gincy presented the key of Number 16 to Miss Howard. -“They haven’t asked for the master key,” said the latter, “so they must -be downstairs in the parlour. Sometimes they don’t come up until the -study bell rings.” - -“Let’s go back and see if there is any one hanging around the door,” -suggested Gincy. - -To their astonishment they found Lalla and Kizzie entertaining callers. -Gincy stood for a moment dumfounded, then dragged Miss Howard to a quiet -corner of the hall. “I know,” she whispered, “some one left that key in -the door. They heard me coming and didn’t have time to get it out. -We’ll keep hit, then I’d like to see them get in.” - -“Do you really think it’s Mallie?” asked Miss Howard soberly. “I can’t -see any reason for her doing it.” - -“Nor I, only the Greens and Ponders never did get on back yonder, and -Lalla’s always ahead of Mallie—she’s a year younger, too.” - -Miss Howard stopped suddenly, she had started back to her room. “No, -Gincy, it wasn’t Mallie; she went into the dining-room ahead of me this -evening and gave out a notice for the basket ball team. I remember now. -Besides, she and Nancy Jane both wipe dishes and are never upstairs until -a half-hour after meal time.” - -For almost a week after that the upper corridors were peaceful. No one -but Gincy doubted that they would remain so. Saturday evening, when Miss -Howard was making her tour of inspection, she met Lalla and Kizzie going -to choir practice. “I’ll look into your room just the same, girls,” she -said. “You don’t know how good it seems, though, to get over dreading -it.” - -Kizzie sighed. “I couldn’t have stood it another day. It was getting -positively ghost-y, having such things goin’ on.” - -Miss Howard sighed too as she fitted the master key into the door of -Number 16. Had she a real traitor in the house, or was it some prankish -girl who had gone too far and was now thoroughly frightened? The room -was in perfect order. How well the two had learned their lesson of -neatness. It rested the tired little teacher just to look at the clean -floor, the fresh curtains, and orderly books. She went over to the -window and looked out. Beyond the roof of the new dining-room was a -long, regular pile of wood, then the tennis court framed by huge oaks, -and still beyond, the mountains. - -Miss Howard stood lost in thought for a moment. Each day brought its -problems. She was roused by a light footstep, there was a quick click of -the lock, and the master key was pulled out from the other side. She was -surely a prisoner. Thoroughly impatient at her own stupidity, Miss -Howard tried the window. She could only pull it down a few inches from -the top. This was the cleverest, most daring piece of lawlessness which -had ever occurred in the Hall. With the master key gone all kinds of -vandalism were possible in that room and every other. She dropped into a -chair irresolute. - -A party of seniors had the east parlour until 7:30, which almost emptied -the corridor. One might call incessantly and not be heard, unless by the -wrong girls—the very ones from whom she wished to keep the matter a -secret. - -The chapel bell rang for chorus practice. The outer world began to grow -dusky, still Miss Howard sat perfectly quiet, apparently reading. She -was thinking of a mystery story which led through a labyrinth of baffling -events to a most simple solution. She grew more and more doubtful of her -ability as a detective. - -Presently, two people stopped outside the door for a little chat. It was -Martha Spellman—on her way to the linen closet—and Lalla. Miss Howard -waited patiently now that immediate release was certain, until the door -opened. - -Lalla’s face was the picture of astonishment as she noticed the occupant -of her room. “You’d better not speak of it, Lalla,” cautioned her -teacher after describing the manner of her incarceration. “The girls -know enough already; they’ll be going home next thing. No one likes to -feel that she’s at the mercy of some lawless person.” - -However, Miss Howard made an exception of Gincy, who seemed a link -between herself and the mountain people. Besides Gincy’s position as -monitor demanded greater confidence. “Whoever it was, knew I was there,” -she concluded. - -“They were after the key, they didn’t care who was in there,” said Gincy -grimly. “Hit ain’t likely they’ll come again very soon, though, after -this.” - -But the very next evening Number 16 was again invaded. This time Lalla’s -little silver pin was missing, and her school books hidden in the -woodbox. - -“Shall we search Mallie’s and Nancy Jane’s room?” asked Miss Howard as -Lalla stood before her after making her final complaint. “This matter is -growing serious.” - -Lalla hesitated. “You wouldn’t be likely to find anything. They’re both -too smart for that. We might watch them a spell longer.” - -“Besides,” continued Miss Howard, “Mallie and Nancy Jane are nearly -always busy when things happen in your room.” - -Lalla shook her head as though unconvinced. “I reckon hit’s jest one -person. I ain’t sayin’ who.” - -“Lalla,” interrogated Gincy shrewdly, “who do you reckon’s so plumb -foolish as to sneak into your room whenever you go out for dinner?” - -“Mebbe you can tell me,” answered Lalla with a flash of temper. “I’m -goin’ home next week if hit keeps on.” - -“Wait a while,” encouraged Gincy, ignoring the insinuation. Personally, -she was not fond of Lalla, whose keen wit never spared any one, but of -all the mountain pupils she was the most talented—so the teachers had -said—and Gincy was working for the good of the school. - -“I’ve got hit to work out and I’m goin’ to do hit,” she said to herself -that night. “I reckon Lalla’s plumb out of patience or she wouldn’t be -so touchy.” - -She took a firmer grip on the baffling mental problem, her detective -instinct now fully aroused. Things happened at dinner time. Mallie and -Nancy Jane were nearly always at meals—and yet—Gincy thought over every -other girl in the Hall; not one seemed to have either the disposition or -the ability to carry on, undetected, such a warfare. - -At six o’clock that evening, she was behind the door of Number 16, the -new master key showing temptingly in the lock. She had figured it all -out; the room must be watched from the inside. This time both window and -door were to be reckoned with. She raised the former to further her -scheme, and told no one except Miss Howard, who promised to bring Gincy’s -dinner to her own room that she might eat it later. - -It was a weary vigil, but Gincy worked out some problems and waited -patiently. The hour was almost gone when a slight tap came at the door. -She crowded behind a dress in the corner and listened eagerly. The door -swung slightly and Nancy Jane Ping looked in. Her small, inquisitive -eyes seemed to pierce every corner, and Gincy had a breathless moment of -expectancy. Kizzie’s yellow muslin was a feeble barrier for the gimlet -glances to penetrate. - -For a moment, the intruder stood keenly surveying the room, then withdrew -and walked slowly down the hall. Gincy waited, but she did not return. -After all, the evidence was very incomplete. Anybody might have looked -into a room whose door was slightly ajar. It didn’t matter how much -inward conviction one had if she lacked tangible proof. The whole -baffling pursuit had to be begun again, and Gincy united her Scotch -persistency and Irish wit afresh. - -For a week she was absent from the dining-room at the dinner hour, the -most sociable time of the day. It had not been necessary to tell Kizzie -or Lalla, or, in fact, anybody, as she sat in the Annex dining-room, and -they rarely saw each other. - -Still nothing happened, and Gincy went on studying her arithmetic and -planning her work for rhetoricals. She did not forget to keep the window -open, however, and the shining new master key in the door as a bait. -“Whoever hit is won’t resk coming in at the window, they’d be suspicioned -sure if any one should open the door.” - -She reasoned it all out as she sat motionless on the fifth night of her -vigil. Almost at that moment the event which she had been anticipating -happened. The key clicked in the lock and she was shut in. For one -instant she listened to hear in which direction the retreating footsteps -were going—there was a telltale squeak which betrayed it—then Gincy -bounded across the room and slipped out of the window. She ran -noiselessly to where the halls crossed and a door led to a back stair -landing. Gincy knew that she could see from there any one who came down -the main hall, while the dark corner was a safe hiding-place for herself. - -She had barely gained the desired spot, when some one vaulted past and -out upon the roof. It was Lalla Ponder who stole cautiously along and -deposited a small, shining object in a convenient niche near the cornice. -Gincy could hardly believe her eyes, but when Lalla turned her back, she -looked into the main hall and saw that it was entirely empty. She knew -that Lalla would not attempt to gain her room by the window, but would -come back into the hall and either go down the back stairs or come up -boldly and unlock her door. Gincy pounded on a nearby door vigorously, -knowing that its occupant was probably taking care of the lamps in the -lower hall, then she walked noisily to meet Lalla, who had regained the -hall when her back was turned. - -“May I borrow your dictionary?” she asked in the grip of a sudden -courage. “Mary must be out; she doesn’t answer when I knock.” - -“Of course you may,” Lalla answered, but Gincy noticed how her hand -trembled as she unlocked the door with her own key which hung on a narrow -plaid ribbon at her belt. She hesitated before stepping in, and gave a -little start of surprise when she saw an empty room. “I’m losing my -nerve, I reckon, with all the queer doin’s ’round here lately.” - -Gincy’s face hardened. Could Lalla be crazy? She watched the girl -narrowly as she searched the closet, peered behind the door with every -sign of anxiety, and gave a sigh of relief when she found nothing out of -order. - -Once in possession of the dictionary, Gincy hurried to Miss Howard with -her story. - -“Have you been dreaming, child?” the latter asked in astonishment. But -Gincy shook her head. - -“I’ve been studyin’ ’bout hit since I found her out. Hit’s that feud -business and she’s trying to fasten hit onto Mallie. The girls will -believe hit too, Mallie’s so ill.” - -Miss Howard from her own conviction felt that they would. She followed -Gincy to the end of the hall; they slipped out upon the roof and found -both keys securely hidden from any casual observer just where Lalla had -concealed them five minutes before. Silently the two filed back to Miss -Howard’s room. Gincy felt the little teacher’s inward struggle to -readjust her point of view. Mallie was not a favourite, while Lalla had -quite a following and was counted unusually bright. - -“Hit’s this way,” Gincy explained to the bewildered teacher. “The Greens -and Ponders have warred hit for years back there in the hills, and they -aim never to forget hit. Most of the young folks see how foolish hit is, -but they’re a sorry lot.” - -Miss Howard sighed. “I must have time to think it over. I’m rather -upset this evening, Gincy. Thank you for helping me. Please don’t say -anything about it until I see you again. I can’t see why Lalla should -want to injure her own clothes to get Mallie sent home, though.” - -After Gincy had left, Miss Howard sat for a long time, her hands toying -idly with the two keys. If the dean knew of the trouble, Lalla would be -suspended at once as she richly deserved. She would go back to the -poorest of mountain homes and the bright, keen mind, undirected and bent -on mischief, would soon bring the girl to grief. - -The next day, at her first opportunity, she called Gincy into her room. -Carefully she approached the subject. “What kind of a home did you say -Lalla had, Gincy?” - -“Mighty pore,” was the answer. “They’re the illest kind of people.” - -Miss Howard pondered a moment over the next question. “What do you -suppose will become of her when she gets back in the mountains?” - -Gincy shook her head gloomily. - -“Don’t you suppose it will be worth while for us to try reforming her?” -Then Miss Howard explained the probation plan. “Only you and I know that -she is the mischief maker. If nothing more happens the pupils will soon -forget it. Of course everything depends on how she acts. She must -contradict the report about Mallie and promise better behaviour in the -future.” - -Gincy’s face showed an inward struggle; this was so unlike the code of -the mountains. “I’m afraid I couldn’t trust her,” she said at last, “but -I’m willing to do anything you say.” - -“I’m going to have a long talk with her this afternoon,” Miss Howard -continued, “and find out the reason for her conduct.” - -There was a light tap at the door, then it was pushed open and Lalla -walked in. Her eyes had a sleepless look, her face was colourless. -Instantly the two knew her errand. She talked very rapidly, as if -fearful of losing her courage. “I started at first to fool Kizzie—she -said no one could do it—then I remembered something pretty mean Mallie -did to me back home and it seemed like my time had come to get even. -When you wanted to search her room I got to studying about it. I was -taking away her chance for learning, and she needing it mighty bad—as bad -as any one could. I was letting you think her a thief—” Here Lalla -broke down completely. “I reckon you’ll have—to—send me h—ome, I’m plumb -bad, and—” - -Gincy waited for no more. She flung her arms around the weeping girl -with sudden tenderness. - -“I am glad you were brave enough to confess your wrongdoing, Lalla,” said -Miss Howard, much relieved. “I think you deserve another chance, and -Gincy and I are going to see that you have it, too. We don’t propose to -tell anybody about this, so you’ll have nothing to live down. Just show -us a clean record from now on.” - -“You don’t mean—” and here the magnitude of Miss Howard’s generosity -seemed to transform Lalla’s whole being. She stood up tall and straight -before the two. “You’ll never be sorry for trusting me,” she said. “And -I reckon if you can forgive me for worrying you so, I ought to forgive -Mallie and help her to be a better girl, too.” - - - - -IX -THE BAPTIZING - - -GINCY worked hard every day. Each night she went to bed weary in mind -and body, but the morning found her anxious to begin again. Saturday -afternoon was free for long walking trips to Cowbell Hollow, Blue Lick, -or the nearby peaks. Already an early frost had touched the tulip trees -with spots of gold, the sumac showed a fiery rim, and Nature was doing -her best to woo attention. Gincy and Urilla did not need the lure, their -hearts were longing for the hills. - -Miss Howard must have read their thoughts. Early Saturday morning she -tapped at their door. “Girls, wouldn’t you like to go out to the -bungalow on Indian Mountain this afternoon? The college team will take -us and we can come back by moonlight to-morrow evening.” - -“Of course we would!” both girls exclaimed. Then Gincy hugged the little -teacher until she laughingly slipped away, admonishing them to be ready -soon after lunch. - -“We’ll get the room straightened out in a jiffy,” said Urilla before the -door had fairly closed. “I’m so glad we’re going, honey, it’ll make you -over.” - -Gincy had never seen her calm room-mate quite so enthusiastic—her cheeks -were flushed with excitement and she rushed around dusting the furniture -with a vigorous hand. “I’d better clear out right away,” she laughed, -“and see if there’s any mail. There won’t be enough left of me to go if -you keep on the way you’ve started; you suck up the dust like a cyclone.” - -“Bring me a letter from Talitha,” Urilla called after her. - -It was four miles to Indian Mountain, the last two a steady climb—steep -in places and sidling—but the five did not mind it. Zack and Zeke, the -two fat mules belonging to the college farm, took a steady jog-trot until -they reached the foot, and then slowed down for the long, hard pull. -Lalla Ponder was poised recklessly near a mound of provisions guarded by -some extra quilts. Her light curls and nimble tongue were in constant -motion. - -“I like tippy places and caves,” she said. “There’s one back in Clay -that’s haunted, they say, but I’ve been in it and never cared a rap.” - -“You’re never afraid of anything,” remarked Kizzie, looking up at her -room-mate admiringly. “I don’t know where you haven’t been that’s -crawl-y and creep-y.” - -“Well, there’s one place on this mountain. I’ve never been all the way -through Fat Man’s Misery.” - -“Let’s all try hit,” Gincy proposed recklessly. “If hit can be done.” - -“The boys often do it, but it’s a pretty hard climb for you girls,” said -Miss Howard who sat with the driver. - -“I’m going to build a fire in the fireplace and pop some corn,” Urilla -suddenly remarked. - -“Perhaps Gincy will help me sweep the bungalow before she goes -exploring,” ventured Miss Howard with a twinkle. - -“I reckon I will,” assented Gincy, catching the look of mischief. -“You-all no ’count folks kin go on and have your fun; you’ll be back -comin’ meal time.” - -The wagon suddenly lurched, checking the chorus of protests. Lalla lost -her balance, falling on Urilla. The basket of fruit and vegetables -overturned and the driver halted for repairs. “Hit’s only a rock that -big storm onsettled t’other night. Them ornery mules jest nachelly -struck hit,” he said. - -Back and forth the road wound, continually disclosing new vistas. In the -coves farmers were gathering the “crap.” There were pine-capped crests, -bare, tumbled rocks, stream beds showing traces of tempestuous high -water, threaded now by tiny, twinkling rills. Beyond, and still beyond, -reared peak after peak of the Cumberlands. Gincy looked eagerly toward -the southeast. For a moment she almost imagined she could see the tiny -cabin perched above Goose Creek. - -After a hard climb of almost two hours, the level space on the -mountain-top was reached. From a thicket of young trees they emerged -into a cleared space where stood a long, red bungalow apparently without -doors or windows. Built at the edge of a cliff, it commanded a wonderful -view of the surrounding mountains and the Blue Grass country. - -“Oh! We’re here at last!” Gincy tumbled out hastily. “Whar do you git -in?” - -“Down the chimney, of course,” laughed Urilla. “Look for the ladder -under the bungalow.” - -“You might watch and see how I do it,” said Miss Howard, producing a key -and going around to the rear of the building. Presently she pushed up -sections of the side—one by one—and lastly threw back the wide front -doors. - -Gincy stood for a moment enraptured. Below for miles was a fair, level -country dotted with towns—another world of which she knew nothing. The -sun was dipping westward toward a bluish-purple horizon. - -By five o’clock everything was in order. “Not a lazy bone among you,” -Miss Howard assured them. “Now scatter and have a good time.” - -They needed no second bidding. Lalla led off at a break-neck speed. -“We’ll start in at the cave and come back by Fat Man’s Misery; it’ll land -us right in front of the bungalow.” - -Urilla groaned. “Sh-h-h,” warned Kizzie, “we’re going to initiate Gincy; -none of us are fat enough to get stuck, so you needn’t worry.” - -“I’m not worrying,” answered Urilla reproachfully. “I’m tired after all -my work this morning, but I’m not going to back out.” - -The path to the cave led through a grove of young oaks. There were tall -ferns and rhododendrons, and mountain laurel. Lalla paused at an immense -fallen tree which seemed to block the way; its great roots hung over the -yawning space below. Nimbly she sprang upon the giant trunk and -disappeared on the other side, calling for the rest to follow. - -When the three had done so, they caught a vanishing glimpse of Lalla -descending hand over hand on the strong branch of a mammoth grapevine. -Thirty feet below she landed upon the level surface of a mossy boulder. -Gincy followed Kizzie, and Urilla came last. Before them was the large -opening of the cave—a favourite haunt of the students, who from time to -time occupied the college bungalow. At its rear, a long, wide crack in -the solid rock led in a zigzag direction for twenty rods or more. The -path was extremely narrow, and sloping at a sharp incline. Kizzie dodged -ahead and Gincy was close behind. Each moment the former grew more -reckless; she gathered her skirts around her and slid down a swift -descent, the others following. - -“Whew! but it’s dampish!” said Gincy. “Hear that water?” - -A steady drip, drip, drip came from the walls. In the cracks were long -fronded ferns, moss, and here and there wild geraniums. A cool draught -struck them. At the farther end the rocks seemed almost to touch, and -only a tiny thread of light showed from above. Gincy was close to Kizzie -when they reached the narrowest part and began the long, tortuous climb. - -“We’ll be ready for hot coffee by the time we get to the top,” called -Urilla from the rear. - -“I hope Miss Howard won’t fuss; I kin eat anythin’ I’m so hungry,” said -Gincy. - -“Of course she won’t fuss,” panted Kizzie. “She’s a born manager; she’ll -have everything on the table in great shape and a picture painted to -boot.” - -Up, up, with a scanty, stony foothold, Gincy followed close behind -Kizzie, her face growing redder, her breath shorter. The crack of blue -was broadening, roots and stocky ferns afforded a surer grasp. - -“We’re almost there!” Kizzie exulted. “What on earth are you doing with -that stick, Gincy?” - -“Watch me and see!” Dexterously Gincy inserted the short, stout stick -crosswise above her head and swung up a long step to safe footing beside -her leader. “Why, we’re up, aren’t we?” she said, astonished as her eyes -caught a glimpse of the foundation of the bungalow a few yards away. The -four pulled themselves up the few remaining feet and dropped down in a -weary, silent row on a big, flat stone which commanded a glorious view. -Even Lalla’s twinkling eyes had lost their usual expression of mischief, -and she sat soberly viewing the scene before her. - -“Look, Kizzie,” exclaimed Urilla, pointing back to the open bungalow, -“Miss Howard’s been to the spring for water, the table’s all set, and I -can smell the chicken.” - -Nancy Jane was up at sunrise the next morning. She and Mallie stole out -of bed noiselessly and started for the spring—it was their turn to get -water. There had been a heavy dew, but neither girl wore rubbers. -“Another fine day,” said Mallie, stepping high. “Just look at the hills! -We’re the highest.” - -The winding footpath near the cliff’s edge gave a magnificent view of the -peaks which formed a huge semicircle around Indian Mountain. “I’d almost -like to live up here,” said Nancy Jane. “It’s more sightly than back in -the hills and so near Bentville.” - -The two stood near the sagging gate of a yard which had been swept clean -as a floor. A few long-legged chickens stepped about gingerly. On the -very edge of the cliff stood a low frame house, and near it a corn crib -set high to keep out the rats. The path to the spring led through the -yard. - -“The Haggis family live here,” announced Mallie as she held the gate -open. “Miss Howard told me about them last night—they’re awfully poor.” - -A small, fat boy wearing a single loose garment was busily playing in the -rain barrel. He had a gourd with which he dipped the water out into a -pail, sprinkling himself plentifully meanwhile. In the house breakfast -was over, and Mrs. Haggis walked around heavily as though her night’s -sleep had failed to rest her. She looked old from sickness and overwork; -but the girls knew that look—nearly all the mountain women had it—and -judged her to be about forty-five. - -“Howdy,” she said, beaming at them as they approached the house. “I’m -proud ter see ye. I was a-feelin’ jest as down-sperited an’ lonesome -when ye druv up yistiddy, an’ all of a suddint the chickens begun ter -crow like they knew you’d come. How’s Miss Howard? I think a heap o’ -seein’ her every year.” - -“She’s well,” smiled Nancy Jane, “and coming over to see you to-day. We -were all pretty tired last night and went to bed early.” - -“I hope our cow didn’t keep ye awake; Job found her thar come light this -mornin’. I reckon she’s proud you’ve come—like we-uns.” - -The girls laughed merrily. “Urilla drove her off in the night. She was -browsing around the bushes ringing her bell like a fire alarm; it was too -funny!” Mallie ended the recital with such evident enjoyment of the -situation that Mrs. Haggis joined in the laugh. - -“Hit’s comin’ two weeks sence a soul war on this mounting,” sighed the -woman, “an’ I’m too porely ter travel any. Didn’t you never feel like -you’d jest got ter talk to some one ’sides your own folks? When I’m shet -of the men folks fer the day an’ can’t even see ’em workin’ in the cove -or hear old Barb’s bell, thar ain’t a human ter talk to ’cept Elam, -onless my Rodie comes up from the Hollow an’ packs her baby up these yere -rocks.” - -Mrs. Haggis was walking along with them toward the spring, talking -eagerly. Little Elam had grabbed Nancy Jane’s proffered finger and was -trotting by her side; with his other hand he held his dress up as he had -seen his mother do. Both the girls noticed how clean the faded blue -calico was, and that the back yard was swept as carefully as the front. - -“Why, Mrs. Haggis,” said Mallie, “you don’t look strong enough to do so -much work; you’re wearing yourself out cleaning like this.” - -The woman sighed. “’Pears like when I don’t work, I git ter studyin’ -’bout the chil’ren—I’ve buried seven of ’em. That’s when we lived over -in the fur aidge o’ Jackson County. Thar’s only three left ’sides Elam; -two are up in Indiany—married—an’ Rodie’s man works the college farm -below here. I don’t see her none too often; she helps tend the crap.” - -The bushes and saplings hedged their path for several rods, then they -came to a tumble of rocks on the very edge of the cliff. A skeleton pine -whose roots still clung in the crevices, between the rocks, stood out -bare and white. At its base was a windlass, and to the bare trunk were -attached wires which slanted down into the treetops below. Mrs. Haggis -fastened the pail the girls had brought to the upper wire—a block of wood -and a pulley kept it upright—and started it on its way. - -“My,” exclaimed Mallie, looking down at the tops of the tulip trees, -“it’s a long way to go for water. Is there a spring at the bottom?” - -“Yes, nigh fourteen hundred feet down,” said Mrs. Haggis. “You-all hang -onto Elam, he’s crazy ter look over the aidge o’ things.” - -“Let us do it,” protested Nancy Jane, alternately watching the slender, -bent figure and the pail bobbing down the wire. - -“’Tain’t nothin’, doin’ this; hit’s the washin’ wears me out.” - -“You don’t mean you, have to pull it all up from down there and then -carry it to the house?” Mallie inquired in astonishment. - -“What I can’t ketch when hit rains. Where’d ye think I got hit?” - -“I didn’t think,” said Mallie soberly, tugging at Elam. “You say your -daughter comes up this way. I wonder if we couldn’t find the path and go -to her house some time?” - -“In course ye could. She’d appreciate a visit from you-all the best -kind. Hit’s middlin’ steep, though, an’ a power o’ work climbin’ back, -but I reckon ye wouldn’t mind.” - -Nancy Jane insisted on bringing up the water; it was quite an effort for -even her strong, young arms. Then they hurried back to the bungalow to -find Gincy frying bacon and the rest making beds. “I knew you’d be -coming along pretty soon,” she said, dropping the eggs into the skillet. -“Miss Howard wants to ask you something.” - -“How would you like to visit Miss Clark’s school to-day, it’s only a -little piece from the foot of the mountain near the pinnacle? We can -walk it in an hour and a half.” - -“But it’s Sunday!” exclaimed Mallie. “How could we?” - -Urilla laughed. “Isn’t Sunday a good day to go to Sunday-school, honey? -You must be dreaming. Wake up!” - -“Oh, that’s it. I never thought of a Sunday-school out here; of course -I’ll go. When do we start?” - -“Just as soon as the dishes are done. We’ll put up our dinners and walk -back just before sunset. We must allow two hours for the climb, anyhow.” -Miss Howard began planning for the luncheon. - -By eight o’clock the little party were on their way. Mrs. Haggis came -out to the gate as they went by. “I wish I war goin’, too,” she said -wistfully, “but pore folks has ter work. I couldn’t tromp ’round the -mountings an’ git my meals. You-all go on an’ I’ll wash some dishes; I -couldn’t run ’round nohow an’ let Job do hit.” - -The visitors waved a good-bye and started on. A mountain bluebird darted -hither and yon, a cardinal shot like a bright gleam through the gay -foliage. The dew was still heavy in the shady places, but they followed -the deep wagon track caused by heavy loads of picnickers from the -college, and parties at the bungalow. The season was almost over for -these, and then the long winter’s isolation began for the Haggis -family—an isolation shared by thousands over this great mountain region. - -Every downward turn revealed a glimpse of beauty which the girls had not -noticed going up. From the coves where the men had been ploughing for -fall crops came a fragrant, earthy odour. Off to the southeast range -after range rose blue against the sky. At last they reached the pike -which led past the little settlement at the foot of the pinnacle. A -number of people passed them on horseback with the usual greeting; -otherwise the stillness was Sabbath-like. - -A turn in the road disclosed the church house, a neat log building near a -little spring, and overshadowed by a turreted-topped mountain. There -were other buildings in the same yard, and probably a dozen scattered -around in sight. The girls noticed that they were of a better type than -those back in the hills at Goose Creek, for only one was windowless. - -Two vehicles were approaching. The driver of the first was a tall, -pleasant-faced, youngish-looking woman who nodded at them with a smile of -surprised recognition as she checked the sleek chestnut. - -“Why, good-morning, Miss Howard! Had you started for my place? We’re -not going to have any Sunday-school to-day—there’s to be a baptizing in -the afternoon—and I promised to attend services at Bentville this -morning. It’s the only chance I’ve had for a year.” - -“I wouldn’t have you miss it for anything, Miss Clark; go right on, all -we want is permission to eat our lunch in your yard,” said Miss Howard, -smiling. “You’d like to stay to the baptizing, wouldn’t you, girls?” - -There was an enthusiastic affirmative from every one. Nobody in the -mountains ever missed a baptizing if it were possible to get there. - -Miss Clark leaned forward. “Go right into the dog-trot at my house; my -raincoat is hanging on the right—near my bedroom door; under it you will -find the key. Make yourself perfectly at home until I come back. You’d -better make some coffee on the oil stove; there’s cream in the spring -house. I’ll come back early.” - -“Thank you ever so much, but don’t hurry back!” urged Miss Howard. “You -need the change, and we’ll get along splendidly.” - -“I’m so glad we came!” exclaimed Urilla. “A baptizin’ is lots more -interesting than a Sunday-school. So that’s Miss Clark; I never saw her -before.” - -“Nor I,” said Kizzie, “but I’m sure I shall like her. They say she’s -helped a good many girls to go to Bentville after they’ve finished out -here.” - -“And boys, too,” added Miss Howard. “She’s changed the whole -neighbourhood. If you could only hear her tell of some of her thrilling -experiences during the last twelve years—of the shootings, and brawlings, -and fightings. To-day the people go to her for everything. She teaches -them to sew, and cook, shows them how to care for the sick and the -babies. Oh, Miss Clark is a wonderful woman!” - -“She must be,” said Gincy soberly, thinking of Goose Creek and its needs. -The second team was passing them and she looked up quickly as a familiar -voice called out: - -“Hello, what are you-all doing out this way?” It was Joe Bradshaw and -his roommate, Raphael Sloan. - -“What are you?” she retorted. - -“Raf lives out here at Pigg Branch and I’ve been visiting him. We -thought you were up at the bungalow and we’d drive up for two or three -hours.” - -“Awfully sorry,” said Lalla, “we brought our dinners, and—” Then she -looked at Miss Howard. That lady smiled. - -“You’d better come back with us—we’ll have plenty for two more—then we -can all see the baptizing this afternoon.” - -The boys needed no second invitation. “We were coming down for that -anyhow,” said Raphael, as they turned around. - -Miss Clark’s home was close to the church house. It was a log house, -built Virginia style, with a wide, covered porch through the centre -separating the two sides. This dog-trot was a cool place in warm -weather, a place to churn, and wash, a place to visit, and sew, or even -take a nap. Mallie sank down upon the old-fashioned couch and looked off -toward the cabins across the road. They were scattered up the branch, -and on beyond, one perched high in a patch of ploughed ground on the -opposite mountain. - -“Isn’t this a lovely place!” she exclaimed, glancing back at the -trellised nasturtiums and morning-glories against the kitchen windows. -“I think Miss Clark is great! Look at those ducks in the branch, and -such a lot of chickens. How can she find time for everything?” - -“Of course she’s great!” Raphael Sloan sank down on the floor -cross-legged. “She can do everything—play the organ, preach a sermon, -knock a bench together better than the boys, and ride any horse around -here. She rode the most ornery mule in these parts one night. Ever hear -about it?” - -There was a chorus of negatives, and Raphael’s dark eyes lighted over the -prospect of thrilling the company. “It was about five years ago when the -Bennett and MacGowan feud was stirring things up ’round here and -everybody seemed bound to take sides. Miss Clark tried to keep out of -it, for there were children from both families in school. One morning -Hugh MacGowan came over to borrow a big needle to sew up his mule’s -shoulder—some one had cut a long gash in it the night before. You just -ought to have seen her eyes flash—I went to school to her then—and she -everlastingly told us what she thought of a man or boy who would hurt an -animal because he hated the owner. Of course the Bennett children went -home and told it, and—” - -“I thought they all liked her,” interrupted Gincy. - -“They did, but the old folks didn’t relish being criticised even though -no names were used. Miss Clark found a note pinned to her door the next -morning telling her to mind her own business or she’d get into trouble. - -“Things were quiet for a while, then one time about midnight, she heard -some drunken men going by shouting and singing—then four or five shots. -It was bright moonlight and Miss Clark could see that one was wounded and -swaying on his mule; the rest galloped off. Izzie Gray was staying with -her then, and begged her not to stir outside, but do you suppose she’d do -anything of the kind? Not much. She sailed out and found Lem Bennett -bleeding to death—his arm all shot up.” - -Raphael stopped suddenly with dramatic effect. His audience was plainly -excited and expectant. “Go on, Raf!” commanded Joe impatiently. “What -next?” - -“Well, Miss Clark rode that mule clear into Bentville and got a doctor, -or the Bennett youngsters wouldn’t have a father to-day, I can tell you.” - -“Did it stop the fighting?” asked Gincy, jumping up suddenly. She fished -the key from under the long raincoat and fitted it into the lock. - -“Yes, I really think it did. She told Lem Bennett—he was the worst of -the crowd—that she saved his life so he could have a chance to be a -better man, and that she loved his children and wanted them to have a -better father. Then she had a long talk with the MacGowans. After that -the county went dry—she had a hand in that, too—and there wasn’t any more -trouble. Oh, Miss Clark is fine, I tell you!” - -“I should think she was,” said Nancy Jane, her eyes open wide with -admiration. “Come on, let’s go in and see how she lives.” - -Gincy was already inside. The rest followed. There was a large bookcase -filled with books and magazines, a piano, a big fireplace with a -comfortable seat and chair near it. - -“Miss Clark made that seat,” said Raphael. “We boys made the chair, and -the piano was sent her by some rich people up north. We helped her paint -and varnish the floors, too.” - -“She has some new rugs,” said Miss Howard. “They’re like those made down -at the loom house.” - -There were three made of rags with patterns in the borders. They were -blue and white. The curtains were white cheesecloth with a blue, -stencilled pattern across the bottom. A few water colours and Hoffman’s -Christ were the only pictures. - -“Come on back and help me find the oil stove; I’m getting hungry,” called -Kizzie from the dining-room. “Isn’t this cosy?” she asked, pointing to -the long, built-in cupboard and the little square table in the centre of -the room. - -Beyond, was the kitchen. A large range occupied one corner near the -sink. “We’ve made candy and popped corn here many a time,” said Raphael. -“Miss Clark has a cooking class every week this year for the older -people.” - -The oil stove was soon discovered and the coffee over. They ate their -dinner in the dogtrot and the crumbs went to the chickens who were -sociably inclined. Then they started for the church house, going through -the garden and a long arbour. - -“What lovely flowers!” Mallie stopped to admire the larkspurs and fall -roses until the rest had disappeared inside the church, then she -followed. - -It was a T-shaped building, one upright being used for the day school and -the other for the Sunday-school and monthly preaching. In case of a -crowd the two rooms could be thrown into one. A tiny, portable organ -occupied the space near the pulpit. Various mottoes, picture cards, and -Bible charts adorned the walls. There were a large fireplace and a small -sheet-iron stove, a dozen long benches which could be stacked at one side -when they met for sociability, and a little Sunday-school library sitting -in neat uprightness on the open shelves. - -Miss Howard played a half-dozen hymns and they all sang, then Gincy, in a -clear, sweet voice, read the lesson. Miss Howard was explaining it when -the people began to gather for the baptizing. They came on horseback, in -jolt wagons, and afoot. Not far from the house the branch widened until -in spring it was almost a pond. Here, under the shade of a dozen walnut -and tulip trees, a motley crowd was assembling and the folks inside the -church house hurried out to join them. Once outside, they saw Miss Clark -coming up the pike, her horse trotting briskly. - -They waited at the gate. It wanted only a few minutes of the time and -the horse must be unharnessed. Joe dropped the bars and Rafael helped -Miss Clark out of the carriage. “You go on with the rest,” he said in a -low tone, “we’ll be along after a bit.” - -Together they went down the little slope, its edge crowded with women and -children. One lone cottonwood shadowed the pool in its deepest place, -stretching mottled arms almost to the opposite bank. Half its roots were -bare and white, washed by the spring torrents. - -Each moment the gathering was augmented by fresh arrivals. Joe and -Raphael came up silently and stood near Miss Clark. A gaunt mountain -preacher whispered a few words to her, his face showing some perplexity. -She turned to the boys. - -“Raphael, won’t you and Joe run up to the house? In the woodshed you -will find a shovel and hoe. Bring them here as quickly as you can.” - -Five minutes later the boys came panting back, bearing the required -utensils. Two brawny mountain men took them, waded out into the shallow -water, and began digging. - -“They’re making it deeper,” said Nancy Jane. “My, but won’t it be -roily!” - -While the men worked the strange audience waited. Near the water’s edge -stood the candidates for baptism—two girls about seventeen, a woman, and -a middle-aged man with wiry black hair and dark, smouldering eyes. He -was short and stocky, a man of force, and—if roused—of fury. - -A long carryall was toiling up the hill. Joe saw it first. “It’s the -college team,” he whispered to Miss Howard. “There must be a dozen -people.” - -The teacher nodded. “Professor Butler’s going to do the baptizing; the -rest came along to sing.” - -Already they could hear the strains of “Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me,” the -rich, full tones swelling through the quiet autumn air as the people in -the carryall approached. One by one they joined the waiting crowd. The -digging had stopped and there was a hush of expectancy as the minister -made his way toward the waiting candidates. He spoke to them quietly, -then turned until his glance swept the assemblage. - -Gincy never forgot that day. The frightened girls in the foreground, -with their coarse, white dresses; the children, their faces curious and -alarmed; the sunbonneted women; the row of men on the fence in the -rear—sallow, sunburned, and some bearing the marks of dissipation. But -what impressed her most was the exalted look on the face of the man when -he emerged from the water. - -“Who is he?” she whispered to Raphael Sloan. - -“Lem Bennett,” he whispered back, “and the woman is his wife.” - - - - -X -SI QUINN REVEALS A SECRET - - -ONLY that one forenoon did Talitha hold school in the hollow. The very -next day the weather took a turn, a cold wind blew up, and for more than -a week a lowering sky gave promise of rain it failed to fulfil-except now -and then in spiteful gusts. Her hopes, to which she had clung with a -brave persistence, vanished with the sunshine. - -She was greatly puzzled at the indifference her family displayed over the -loss of the schoolhouse and its contents. Evidently the school must be -discontinued until another year at least. It was getting too late in the -season to hope for more than a few days—at a time—warm enough to hold the -session out of doors. She had thought some place might be opened to her, -but the cabins were small and already overcrowded. When she suggested -that the children meet at her own home for a few hours each day, her -parents decidedly objected. Even Dan Gooch seemed to forget his anxiety -to have Billy and Sudie “git larnin’,” and, although she had offered to -assist them with their lessons, along with her own brothers, they had not -put in an appearance. - -Now that her plans for helping the young people of Goose Creek had -failed, Talitha felt more keenly than ever the disappointment of -returning home. She took all the heaviest work of the household upon her -strong, young shoulders. The spinning wheel whirred through the long -afternoons which otherwise would have been dull and dreary enough. She -had no heart to call on neighbours or kinfolk; they did not need her. Si -Quinn had also lost all interest in school matters, or she had failed to -meet his expectations. It was strange she had not known it before, and -yet she had done her best. - -She had time now to notice the change that had come over her father. -Every morning he went off, his axe over his shoulder; such -fore-handedness in getting the winter’s wood was unusual in him. When -Martin was home it was he who saw that they did not lack for fuel when -the cold weather came on. - -At the end of the second week she received a letter from her brother. It -was the first he had ever written her, for they had never been separated -before. Talitha puzzled over its pages, growing more and more bewildered -at their contents: “Si Quinn wrote me about the schoolhouse. Isn’t it -great! Jake always was heady, he could work up that temper of his until -he was worse than a hornet. I hope this’ll be a lesson he’ll remember. -I’m just as proud of you as I can be. Everything has worked out for the -best after all, hasn’t it? Gincy is studying like a whale. She was -mightily disturbed when she heard you’d gone home on her account and I -had all I could do to keep her from tagging along after you. But Gincy -has a heap of good sense. She’s Miss Howard’s right hand man; I don’t -get a sight of her except at meal times, but I can hear her voice on the -high notes ’way above the rest come Harmonia nights.—Oh, Gincy’s making -good, all right, and I’m glad as can be, but I do miss you awfully, sis—” - -Talitha finished and then her eyes wandered back toward the beginning. -“I don’t understand it one bit,” she thought. “Mart doesn’t seem to care -at all that the schoolhouse burned. He writes as though it were almost a -joke.” The tears rushed to Talitha’s eyes. “I’m going right over to the -schoolmaster’s, maybe he can explain it,” she decided at last. “I do -wonder what he wrote Martin.” - -The girl snatched up her sunbonnet and hurried out of the door, the -letter in her hand. Half-way to the old man’s cabin she met him hobbling -cheerfully along by the aid of his crutch. The satisfied smile on his -face brought Talitha’s grievance freshly to mind; she almost resented his -unusually jovial greeting. - -“Halloo, thar, Tally; you shore air lookin’ robustious—” - -“Good-morning,” responded Talitha coldly. “I’ve just got a letter from -Martin, and—and I’ve been wondering what you told him. He writes as -though it wasn’t—well, he almost joked about the schoolhouse being -burned.” The girl’s lips quivered. - -“Law, now, did he?” considered the old man, evading the look of reproach -in Talitha’s eyes. “I didn’t go fer to give him any sech idee. Hit war -a powerful mean thing fer Jake Simcox ter do, and I aimed ter lay thet -out plain ter Mart. S’pose you jest walk along with me ter the ruins. I -thought a sight of thet old shack; hit’s whar I spent cornsiderable many -years. I like ter think of you-all a set-tin’ on them benches. You war -a powerful bouncin’ leetle gal, Tally, and I war an ill enough teacher, -but I done the best I knowed then.” - -Talitha’s anger had suddenly vanished. There was something pitiful in -the schoolmaster’s fondness for recalling the past. After all, he felt -the loss of the old place more deeply than he would have people think. -“You mustn’t say that,” she insisted. “Of course you did the best you -could, but I know just how you feel; I wish I’d done more when I had the -chance.” - -“Law, now, Tally, you’re jest a colt, as hit war, and thar’s plenty of -chances comin’ fer you. Hit ain’t as if you war sech a broken-down hoss -critter as I be.” - -“But I can’t bear to give up the school!” cried the girl. “I’ve been -trying so hard to think of some way, and nobody seems to have the least -interest in it any more.” - -“Don’t they now?” said Si Quinn with recovered cheerfulness. Then -stopping suddenly, “’Pears ter me suthin’s been goin’ on up this a way.” -They had come to where, through a cleared space among the trees, a -blackened heap was visible—all that was left of the poor little -schoolhouse. - -But Talitha hardly noticed it. Something beyond had caught her eye—a -substantial yet picturesque structure of logs, the rough bark still -covering them and adding a beauty in harmony with the surroundings. The -carefully laid chimney at one end was receiving the last finishing -touches at the hands of a capable mason from the Settlement. A dozen men -stood about watching him admiringly. - -The old man saw Talitha’s eyes widen in amazement. - -“Why, what is it?” she cried suddenly. “I don’t understand!” - -“Well, well, honey,” chuckled Si Quinn, “I reckon thet’s the joke Mart -writ you ’bout, and I declar’ if hit ain’t the biggest one I ever heerd -tell on. Hit’s goin’ ter be all ready fer you ter begin school Monday, -and nobody war goin’ ter say anythin’ ter you ’bout hit till thet time; -but I see I jest had ter, you war frettin’ so.” - -The new schoolhouse was a most pretentious affair in the eyes of its -builders. The logs were carefully chinked to keep out the cold, and the -three good-sized windows contained shining panes of glass. Inside, there -were backs to the rough benches. Desks, the amateur carpenters had felt -unable to cope with, but there was a little platform with a rude table -for the teacher. A large sheet-iron stove gave promise of warming the -farthest corners of the room. - -It was all so far beyond Talitha’s most ambitious dreams that she sank -upon a seat and burst into tears. The men looked at her abashed. - -“Law me, Tally,” expostulated Sam Coyle, “hit looks fairly ongrateful fer -you ter take on that-a-way.” - -“Now shet up, Sam,” commanded the schoolmaster with his old authority. -“Tally’s jest as tickled as anybody, but hit’s all come so mighty sudden -she’s kerried plumb off her feet.” - -“I should say I was!” laughed the girl, wiping her eyes. “I never -dreamed of such a thing.” - -The next Monday morning Talitha sang all the way to school. The air was -frosty and a nipping wind reddened her cheeks and made her fingers -tingle, but she laughed a merry defiance at the cold. How warm and cosy -the new schoolhouse should be when the children came trooping in. A turn -in the worn footpath and there it stood before her, new and inviting, -beckoning her on. Some one had been there before her, for smoke came -from the chimney. The young teacher hastened her steps. The door was -unlocked and she entered. The place was empty but warm to the farthest -nook, and Talitha rubbed her eyes. There were familiar looking books on -the table and maps on the walls beside the wide stretches of blackboard. -There were pictures also, not just such as she would have chosen, but how -they brightened the place! “If hit’s picters Tally wants, why hit’s -picters she shall hev,” declared the storekeeper at the Settlement. And -forthwith he had gathered his accumulation of calendars, chromo -advertisements, and picture cards to beautify the schoolroom. - -For a time Talitha’s heart was as light as a feather, then something -began to trouble her. Quite by accident she discovered that Si Quinn’s -funds were getting low. How little he could afford to replace the books -and maps which had been destroyed she did not imagine. She only knew -that he seemed to have grown paler and thinner each time she saw him. He -had a habit of dropping in at the school almost daily, and when a week -passed and he did not appear, Talitha called at the cabin. - -She knocked, but there was no response and she opened the door with -misgiving. The old man was not there. She looked curiously around; the -remnants of a scanty meal were on the table, and with a sudden -inspiration she began to investigate the condition of his larder. The -girl stood amazed at the result. She knew he had not been able to -cultivate his little garden patch the past summer, but because of the -small sum he had earned for years in the Goose Creek school, Si Quinn had -been looked upon as a well-to-do man in the community. - -Much troubled at her discovery, Talitha set her wits to work. The old -man was too proud, she knew, to accept any offers of assistance. -Suddenly a plan entered her head. Christmas was only three weeks -distant—that was her opportunity, only something must be done meanwhile. -Where could he have gone? The girl ran to the door and looked out. -There he was now coming along the creek path. She hurried out to meet -him. - -“Howdy, Tally!” he called, a smile brightening the wan, haggard face. - -“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” cried the girl. “I’m going to -take you home with me for supper and I know father and mother won’t hear -to your coming back to-night.” - -The old schoolmaster needed little urging to accompany her, and he did -ample justice to the supper Talitha cooked with her own hands. The next -morning a drizzling sleet prevented him from leaving. It was almost a -week before he finally took his departure, and then it was to respond to -an urgent invitation from the Gooch family to visit them. The Shackleys -would also be offended if they were neglected, so before the rounds were -made, Si Quinn’s face lost its pallor and he was quite like himself -again. - -One morning Pom Ethers, the wagoner, stopped at the schoolhouse with a -goodly sized wooden box. “Talitha Coyle” was painted on it in large -black letters. The children gathered around while the man, with much -curiosity, opened it. - -“Laws-a-massy!” exclaimed Porn Ethers as the cover came off. “If they -ain’t all books! What’ll ye ever do with sech a heap of ’em, Tally?” -There were two dozen volumes in neat but cheap bindings; some new to the -young teacher, and others she had read over and over in the school -library at Bentville. - -“Read and study them of course,” she answered. “They’re just what we’ve -needed all the time. Who could have sent them?” - -“Hit beats me,” said the wagoner. “Thar ain’t nothin’ ter show whar they -come from; mebbe the schoolmaster can tell ye.” - -Si Quinn did not seem to know who the unknown donor might be, although he -might have surmised, for the very next day he received a letter -containing five dollars wrapped in an unsigned epistle, stating that the -sender had found a place at good wages. After Christmas he was going to -school—working evenings for his keep. - -The schoolmaster smiled and nodded knowingly as he read it over and over -to himself, then laid the sheets on the flame in the wide fireplace and -watched them turn to ashes. - -It took a great deal of scheming on Talitha’s part to bring her plans to -maturity. Billy Gooch was her right hand man, who could keep a secret -better than some of his elders. Her younger brothers, Rufe and Dock, -were too small to be of much service, while most of her other pupils -lived too far away to help her after school hours. - -Christmas Eve there were to be exercises at the schoolhouse, which was to -be trimmed with evergreen and holly for the occasion. Talitha had heard -of Christmas trees, although she had never seen one, but they meant -candles, glittering trimmings, and little gifts far beyond the reach of -her small purse. - -The schoolhouse looked like Santa Claus’ bower when the last decoration -was in place. From every available spot glowed the red berries of the -holly, with their shining green leaves against a background of pine and -fir. At last she was free to go. With one last look of satisfaction she -locked the door, and, accompanied by Billy and Sudie, took her way to the -old schoolmaster’s cabin. She did not see the faces peering excitedly -out at her from behind the pine thicket where, on that memorable night, -Jake Simcox had thought himself safe from detection. - -Si Quinn had not finished his stay at the Shackleys, so the coast was -clear. The Saturday before Talitha, with the aid of Billy and his -sister, had given the cabin such a scrubbing as it had never known. The -fireplace was newly whitewashed and filled with odorous pine and balsam -boughs. There was also a huge pile of wood in one corner of the room. -Only the finishing touches were lacking to make the preparations complete -for the great surprise to be precipitated upon the schoolmaster, and in -these all his former patrons were to have a hand. - -The children had brought their arms full of holly and pine, and now they -ran out for more while Talitha tried to give a festive air to the poor -little place. She smiled to herself as she did so, wondering meanwhile -what the old man would say to such “vanities”—as he would have called -them a year ago. - -Presently there was a heavy step at the door, and Porn Ethers staggered -in, his arms weighted with bundles of all shapes and sizes. There was a -veritable Santa Claus twinkle in the grey eyes under the shaggy eyebrows. - -“Thar’s a heap more things in the wagon, Tally. I couldn’t git hit -nearer’n the big rock, but I can pack ’em up easy ’nough, I reckon. Law, -but Si’ll think hit air Chris’mus fer sure! Thar’s three flitches of -bacon and a ham, and Mis’ Spurlock’s sent one of her puddin’s,” -enumerated the wagoner as he deposited the offerings upon the table. -“The Shackleys and the Twilligers hev fairly outdone theirselves. What -I’m afeard of is thet now the schoolmaster’ll be gittin’ the dyspepsy; -too much eatin’ air right down onhealthy—so I’ve heerd. But I’d be -willin’ ter take the resk if hit war me.” The grey eyes twinkled again. - -Billy and Sudie came in with another armful of greens and hurried to Porn -Ethers’ assistance. In a comparatively short time the contents of the -wagon were neatly stowed away on the shelves, the bed made up with the -new blankets and blue coverlet, and the table set in Talitha’s most -approved fashion with some of the choicest goodies surrounding a large -bunch of holly. - -“When the fire is burning and the candles lighted it’ll look real -Christmas-y,” decided the young teacher as the finishing touches were -completed. “I shall have to run ahead and see to that. How I wish -Martin were here to-night,” she sighed as she started homeward. - - - - -XI -CHRISTMAS DOINGS - - -THE dusk of Christmas Eve had gathered when Talitha set out for the -schoolhouse, leaving the rest of the family to follow later. The place -was already warm, but the candles must be lighted; the company would -gather at an early hour. Already there was the sound of wheels, the -tread of oxen on the wagon track, and the chatter of voices. Every man, -woman, and child in Goose Creek, able to hobble forth, would be present. - -As she neared the place she saw that light already flamed from the -windows. Her steps quickened into a run; she reached the schoolhouse -quite breathless. The door was ajar. Talitha pushed it open and -entered. At first she was only aware that something very puzzling was -going on. She rubbed her eyes—they were dazed with the light—and looked -again. - -On the platform was a Christmas tree, so tall that the flame of its -topmost candle barely escaped the ceiling. The twinkling lights, the -glittering tinsel, the toys, made it the most beautiful thing Talitha had -ever seen. Several people were moving about it lighting more candles and -hanging small, red stockings, with bulging sides, to the lower branches. -Did her eyes deceive her? Was one of them—yes, it was really Martin, and -there was Miss Howard, and Abner, and Gincy! - -The latter rushed forward and caught Talitha in her arms. “We’ve been -planning for it ever so long; I was determined to come home with the boys -and surprise you,” laughed Gincy with a hug. “Then we coaxed Miss Howard -to come too, and when the Bentville folks heard about the school and what -you’d done, they wanted to help, so there’s something on the tree for -every pupil.” - -“Hello, Tally,” Abner interrupted excitedly. “This is a dandy -schoolhouse! I should think you’d be awfully ’bliged to Jake Simcox for -burnin’ that old shack—” - -“Sh!” Talitha held up a warning finger, for a crowd was flocking in at -the door. Foremost were the Shackleys with Si Quinn. At first the -company looked about bewildered, then their tongues suddenly loosened and -the din was deafening. - -“Fer the land’s sake!” exclaimed Ann Bills, with a violent poke of her -elbow in her husband’s ribs, “jest look at thet pine, will ye, all rigged -out with poppets and sech. Whar d’ye s’pose Tally got all thet plunder?” - -“I reckon hit war packed all the way from Bentville,” Shad Bills answered -shrewdly. “Thar’s Miss Howard over yon—and—I’m blest if hit ain’t Mart -and Abner lightin’ them candles! The young-uns hev come back fer -Chris’mus, Ann—” But his wife did not hear, her keen eyes had spied -Gincy, and she was already elbowing her way through the crowd in a -masterful fashion. - -Half-dazed, the aged schoolmaster glanced around; it was all very -strange—and beautiful, too. His faded old eyes winked and blinked at the -unaccustomed twinkle and glitter. It almost took his breath and he -dropped trembling, into a seat. How could Talitha have thought of all -this! Did they have such things at Bentville? All the years of his -teaching he had never once dreamed of celebrating Christmas in this -fashion. He eyed the tree—what he could see of it over the heads of the -crowd—with all a child’s delight. How shining and stately it looked! -Its tallest candle glittered like a star, while those among the holly and -pine, around the room, shone back bravely as though they were not to be -outdone. And how the folks chattered! - -Talitha slipped away to find Martin. She wanted to meet him alone, -although that seemed an impossibility, but she darted around the tree and -caught him tucking away a parcel under the branches at the base. How -tall and manly he looked. - -“Oh, Tally!” he exclaimed, beaming at her. “Did we surprise you?” He -stooped and kissed her. - -Talitha only nodded; she could not trust her voice. - -“I can see now why you came back, Tally,” Martin began, but he did not -finish, for the two were suddenly besieged by Abner and Gincy and dragged -before the surprised company who had not yet discovered Martin. - -It was quite a few minutes before the excited audience settled into -quiet, and then it was as decorous and interested as one could wish. -Miss Howard could hardly have presided with more dignity than did -Talitha, and the exercises went off better than either could have -believed possible with those alluring gifts before the children’s eyes. - -The dialogue between the Twilliger twins went smoothly without prompting. -The youngest Dodd boy—small for his ten years and one of the brightest -pupils—recited “The Night Before Christmas” like a general, and received -long and vociferous applause, as did also the song by little Polly -Suttle. Billy Gooch came in for a large share of approval at his -rendering of Lincoln’s speech at Gettysburg; there was a marching drill -in which Rufe Coyle beat the time on an old drum of his grandfather—who -had been through the war. The vigorous rat-a-tat-tat set the men’s -restless feet tapping to the great delight of the children. The -exercises were at last concluded with the singing of the “Star Spangled -Banner” by the school, the younger pupils waving small flags through the -chorus. - -At the close of the song, Miss Howard, with the aid of Martin and Abner, -began to distribute the gifts from the tree. Minta Bills was the first -name called, but the child failed to understand and hung back timidly. - -“Don’t ye hear Miss Howard callin’ ye? Go ’long, honey,” coaxed her -father, giving the child a gentle push. He did not comprehend just what -was wanted, but the young woman from Bentville must be obeyed. - -“Minty! whar’s yer raisin’?” reproved Ann Bills, turning sharply to her -granddaughter. Minta edged shyly toward the tree, and Miss Howard put a -stocking full of candy and a small but gaily dressed doll into her arms, -watching the look of astonishment and delight grow in her face. At the -sight of the latter all the mother instinct was aroused, and she stumbled -back to her father, hugging her precious burden close. All Goose Creek -watched her. The big blue eyes were fastened on the doll, and the long -yellow curls fashioned a sort of halo for the sweet, childish face. - -Ann Bills’ hard mouth twitched and she gave Minta a kindly pat as she -bent over to view the gift at closer range. “Hit do beat all,” she told -her son in an audible whisper. “Thet thar poppet fairly looks like a -human.” - -For a few minutes Minta was the envy of the school, but it was soon -discovered that none of the pupils had been overlooked—that even their -teacher had been remembered with enough “store goods” for a new gown, the -package Martin was hiding under the branches. - -“I declare, if I didn’t forget all about the schoolmaster,” Martin -whispered to Talitha. “I’m so sorry—” - -“Oh!” his sister gave a start. “And I did too. Martin, I’m going right -over to speak to Enoch Shackley, and in ten minutes you must follow me. -Just slip away without any one seeing you; I’ll be waiting outside.” - -Halfway across the room Talitha was waylaid by a tall, black-eyed girl -with a conspicuous pompadour. “I reckon you don’t know me, I ’lowed you -wouldn’t—at first sight, anyway, but I war on the train the mornin’ you -come from Bentville and you told me ’bout Gincy’s goin’ ter school. I -didn’t find out your name, but when I heerd ’bout a gal comin’ back here -to Goose Creek to teach school I pieced hit all together and I knew hit -war you.” - -“This is Piny Twilliger?” inquired Talitha politely. - -“You’re jest right. I’ve had a powerful fine time, and I’ve been -a-tellin’ Gincy thet I’m goin’ ter Bentville too, next term. I’ve -changed my mind ’bout gittin’ larnin’.” - -Talitha made her escape as soon as possible, although Piny would have -liked to prolong the conversation. With a whispered word in Enoch -Shackley’s ear she slipped out of the door unnoticed. - - - - -XII -GOOSE CREEK PLOTS AGAINST THE SCHOOLMASTER - - -“HIT air gittin’ powerful late,” admonished Enoch Shackley, rounding up -the last of his brood. “I can take you-uns along ter your place,” he -said to the schoolmaster. “I reckon you’re honin’ ter git home.” - -The old man’s face suddenly fell. Never within his memory had he spent -so festive an evening, and now to go from it to his cold, comfortless -cabin. The blacksmith observed the look with an unfeeling smile, and -attempted to hasten his offspring’s preparations for departure. - -“Hurry up thar, chil’ren. Law me, your teacher’s gone ’fore this. She’s -glad ’nough ter git shet o’ you fer one spell, I reckon.” - -It certainly was a mystery where Talitha and Martin had so suddenly -disappeared. Even Abner and Gincy looked puzzled, finally accepting Mr. -Shackley’s offer—made with a knowing twinkle of the eye—of a “couple of -cheers” in his wagon. - -The company flocked out of the schoolhouse with their perforated tin -lanterns like a swarm of fireflies dodging hither and thither among the -trees. Saddle horses were mounted, and the patient oxen again yoked to -the wagons filled with chairs. - -Strange to say, many of the folks were taking the same road—following a -short distance behind the Shackleys. The sound of their voices and the -twinkling lights in the rear at any other time would have aroused Si -Quinn’s curiosity, at least. Now he was too much occupied with the -thought of his own failures and the future which loomed before him more -dismal than ever. Lost in revery he failed to notice when the oxen -stopped at the footpath leading up to his cabin, until the blacksmith’s -voice roused him. - -“Here you air, Si! Jest let me ketch a holt of you. Middlin’ dampish, -ain’t hit? I ’low Abner better go ’long with the lantern. I’ll wait fer -him.” - -Had the two looked around as they slowly climbed the slope, they would -have seen the shadowy company following at a little distance. - -“I’ll stop and start a fire for you,” offered Abner, with a great feeling -of pity for the old man who leaned heavily on his strong, young arm. “If -you haven’t been home for a week it ain’t a fit place for you to go -into.” - -“Thar won’t be a live coal,” panted the schoolmaster. - -“I’ve matches in my pocket, but it’ll take a considerable spell to drive -out the cold and damp.” The boy eyed the dim outlines of the cabin with -misgiving. It looked gloomy and unhomelike as possible. - -Once at the door—guiltless of fastenings—Si Quinn drew a long, reluctant -sigh. - -His hand on the latch, Abner heard sounds of feet close by. He looked -around; there were strange, moving shadows on the path. He was not -slow-witted; it was Christmas Eve and a suspicion of something flashed -across his mind. One glimpse of the already lighted room and he turned, -helped the old man in, and hastily closed the door just as there came a -tugging at his coat. A score of Goose Creek folks were behind him. - -“Oh, what did he say?” whispered Talitha excitedly. - -“He hadn’t got that far,” grinned Abner in sudden comprehension. - -“Let’s give three cheers for the schoolmaster,” suggested Martin. - -Such a demonstration was new to the mountain people who had not been to -Bentville, but they listened with appreciation and joined in most lustily -when it ended with: “A Merry Christmas! Wish You a Merry Christmas!” -And then the company quietly dispersed. - -“We made a power o’ racket,” said Dan Gooch as later he entered his own -cabin. “But I’d like ter hev seen how the old man looked when he war -fairly inside. We did a toler’ble job, chinkin’ up them crannies. You’d -never hev suspected what the place war like,” he chuckled. - -As more than one of the company around the little old cabin that night -had surmised, the schoolmaster’s face, as he gazed about the room—only a -few days ago as cheerless as it could well be—was worth seeing. The pine -boughs in the fireplace crackled and snapped merrily as the flames leaped -upward and sent a delightful glow through the place. A half-dozen -candles twinkled out from bunches of holly and pine. The bed with its -warm, new covering was like a gay flower plot; shelves and table bore -unmistakable evidences of Christmas cheer. - -The faded eyes grew misty as they caught sight of a card on the shelf -above the fireplace. It bore, in large letters: “A Merry Christmas from -the Goose Creek Folks.” - -The old man’s knees suddenly weakened and he dropped into a chair. He -heard the cheering and tried to rise and open the door, but he could not -summon strength. As the last echo of “Merry Christmas” died away across -the mountains with the sound of retreating footsteps, the tears trickled -down his cheeks. It was the happiest hour of his whole life. His poor -efforts had been appreciated after all; he was not to be forgotten in his -old age. - -Until a much later hour than usual lights shone from the little homes -about Goose Creek. The young people had loitered along the way from the -schoolhouse, there was so much to talk over. Miss Howard was to stay all -night with Gincy. The Coyle and Gooch families were to spend Christmas -at the home of the former. It was to be a great day for the two -households, and Talitha’s head was awhirl with excitement. She had -unselfishly worked hard to bring happiness to others, and the greatest -surprise had come to her. She was going back to Bentville the day after -Christmas, with Miss Howard, and Martin, and the rest. Gincy, hawk-eyed -where her friend was concerned, had rushed to the dean when she -discovered that two of the students were to leave, and engaged a place -for Talitha. Piney Twilliger had been fortunate enough to secure the -other. - -Sam Coyle made no objection, he was secretly bubbling over with pride at -his daughter’s success. There could be no more school that winter; -besides, he was beginning to feel that an education was something to be -really desired. - -By dawn on Christmas day two households at least were astir. The air was -unusually mild with the fresh smell of a recent shower. The sun rose and -beamed down with the warmth of May. By the time the Coyle family had -breakfasted, Gincy and Abner were on hand to assist in the preparations. -The loom, warping bars, spinning wheel, and a rude chest were turned out -of doors to make place for the expected guests. - -“We’re real lucky to have such weather,” said Talitha. “I don’t know how -we would ever have managed with the table if we couldn’t have cleared -things away. As it is there won’t be room enough for the children—” - -“I’ll knock something together that’ll be nearer their size,” comforted -Martin. - -“Good boy,” smiled his sister, much relieved. “I was thinking of setting -them in a row on the floor. That wouldn’t be very Christmas-y, would it? -But a table of their own will pleasure them mightily.” Talitha hustled -back into the cabin; there was an unusual amount of work for even her -capable hands. Besides assisting in the preparation of so elaborate a -meal, her belongings were to be made ready for her departure early on the -morrow. It was too late in the season to risk further delay. Any day -now, winter might rush upon the mountains with icy wind and sleet or a -blinding snowstorm, making the rough roads altogether impassable. - -“This air a weather breeder,” observed Sam Coyle pessimistically. “I’d -feel a sight easier if you-uns hed a-started this mornin’.” - -“An’ miss their Chris’mus turkey,” reproved his wife. “Jest be thankful -hit air fine ’nough ter turn things out’n doors, ’though Tally ’lows now, -hit would hev pleasured the comp’ny more ter hev set the table ’long of -them pines.” - -“Hit air not so much ’count whar hit’s set as what’s set on hit,” -retorted Sam jovially. “Thet air the main thing; the scener-y hain’t -needed ter give me an appetite. The smell o’ them turkeys air gone to my -stummick a’ready, an’ I reckon I sh’ll hev ter take ter the crick ter git -out’n reach of hit if the dinner’s later’n common.” - -“Be keerful you don’t fall in,” warned Mrs. Coyle sarcastically. She -paused in the midst of her egg beating to look about for Dock, her -youngest, who was prone to get into mischief if unwatched. - -By ten o’clock the company had arrived. It included the Bills family, as -being next of kin, and Miss Howard who had waited to come with Mrs. Gooch -and the younger children. Martin and Abner made themselves as useful as -possible by taking the smaller members of the assembled families a short -distance along the mountain-side in search of the hickory nuts which -might have escaped their eyes at nutting time. - -The company sat out of doors and visited with the host, while Talitha and -her mother, with Gincy’s aid, completed the final preparations for the -Christmas feast. The children’s table was laid beside a clump of laurel. -When the youngsters appeared, they were immediately set down before -well-filled plates while their elders gathered in the cabin. The family -table had been lengthened by Martin’s skilful contriving and placed -cornerwise across the room. Even then it took some managing to get the -guests properly seated. - -Mrs. Coyle surveyed the feast with pardonable pride; it would have done -credit to more notable housewives. Not since the early days of her -marriage had she had the opportunity to show such hospitality. Two of -the largest, plumpest turkeys in her flock graced the centre of the board -in company with a fat, wild goose, potatoes, turnips, beans, squash, -dishes of pickle, a salad—Talitha had learned to make at -Bentville—besides the usual Christmas pies, and a large black cake Gincy -had trimmed with a wreath of holly. Both front and back doors were wide -open, and a gentle breeze cooled the heated room where both the new stove -and the fireplace had been doing extra duty. - -Around the little cabin rose the great sheltering hills, their peaks a -misty purple in the soft haze of a belated Indian summer. Below, Goose -Creek, still little more than a rivulet, basked lazily in the sunshine. - -At first the appetites were too keen to allow of much conversation, but -at last Shad Bills laid down his knife and fork and looked around with a -grin. “Has anybody heerd how the schoolmaster’s feelin’?” he suddenly -inquired. “I ’lowed a-toppin’ off the Chris’mus doin’s with thet -surprise war a leetle too much fer the old man.” - -“I seen him this mornin’,” said Dan Gooch. “He war as peart as a Juny -bug. The Twilligers give him an invite to eat turkey with them. Yes, -sir,” he smiled reminiscently, “I reckon Goose Creek never see no sech -doin’s as we had last night. I don’t rightly know as we’d ought ter let -Tally slip off this-a-way without writin’ out a promise thet she’ll come -back and teach the school next year.” - -Sam Coyle grinned appreciatively. Not one of the men in the company -could read or write. “I reckon her word of mouth’ll do. Tally’s boun’ -ter come back all right,” her father declared. - -“She can’t always be comin’ back to teach,” put in Gincy. “If you go to -Commencement next spring maybe you’ll want Tally to have a diploma, too.” - -Sam Coyle wisely refrained from a reply. That he had not looked with -favour upon his daughter’s ambition to get an education was well known, -and now that he had been proved in the wrong he did not propose to lay -himself open to further criticism. However, he inwardly determined that -Talitha should keep the Goose Creek school. The money was a great help -to the family, and Dan Gooch would like nothing better than to have a -chance to secure it for Gincy, he reasoned selfishly. Miss Howard -shrewdly read the man’s thoughts, but she said nothing, although she -inwardly resolved that Talitha should have her chance with the rest. - -After the dinner was over and the dishes cleared away, the young people -went to the schoolhouse. The maps and pictures were to be brought home -for safekeeping, although there was no probable danger of their being -molested. Besides, the young teacher wanted to see the place again -before leaving for Bentville. - -There was a strong odour of pine as Martin flung open the door. The -despoiled tree still stood on the platform. Miss Howard had put the -tinsel trimmings carefully away for future Christmases. - -“It certainly looks as though we had had a good time last night,” said -Talitha, glancing around. “Billy, I think I’ll let you and Sudie sweep -out when you have a chance. You may keep the greens up as long as you -choose; they’ll last some time. Good-bye until next summer,” she said to -herself as she reluctantly turned away. - -They stopped a moment at the little heap of ashes and charred logs below -the new structure. “It’s a fitting monument for the old shack we used to -call a schoolhouse,” said Martin reflectively. “When I remember the days -we spent in it, I—” - -“Don’t,” said Talitha gently. “The schoolmaster did the best he knew. -He can see his mistakes as well as anybody now.” Miss Howard was silent, -but she thought of the many such places scattered over the mountains, -some of them presided over by just such teachers as Si Quinn had been. - -Early that evening Martin and Talitha slipped away to the old -schoolmaster’s cabin to say good-bye, for they would start by light the -next morning. - -“I ’lowed you’d be ’long,” he said, beaming down at them. “I came home -early so’s not ter miss you.” - -“Oh, we wouldn’t have gone away without coming to see you,” Talitha -assured him, drawing up a stool before the bright blaze in the fireplace. -Martin seated himself upon an old chest in the corner and looked around. -He had been curious to see how Talitha had managed to rehabilitate the -dingy place of which he had such disagreeable recollections. - -“You wouldn’t know my old shack now, would you?” Si Quinn noticed the -young fellow’s survey of the room. “You kin lay the hull thing ter -Tally, I’ll be boun’—” - -“Oh, no, no,” protested the girl, blushing. “I just—” - -“Don’t I know your sly tricks? You started hit an’ did a heap besides. -Not that Goose Creek folks ain’t the frien’liest, best-hearted critters -in the hull mountings.” - -“Just think what you’ve done for me!” cried Talitha in a low tone. -“Those books and maps—I couldn’t have replaced them this fall—and that -box was such a godsend! Billy’s going to see that all the children have -a chance to read the books this winter. They’ll be learning a lot and -the days won’t seem so long. I’ll send them a package of papers and -magazines in the spring.” - -“Law me, Tally, hit war little ’nough I did. I’d hev done a heap more, -but I couldn’t. Hit’ll seem mighty lonesome with you-uns gone, but I’ll -git some comfort thinkin’ of the chanct you’re havin’.” - -The call must necessarily be a brief one. Talitha was very tired and -there was a long ride before them on the morrow. But as the two rose to -go the old man caught at the girl’s sleeve. “Martin, you jest g’long and -bide fer Tally by the big tree. I’ve somethin’ special ter say ter her.” - -Martin looked surprised, but he obeyed. - -“I war told ter keep hit a secret, Tally,” said Si Quinn as the door -closed behind her brother. “But I couldn’t let you go ’way a-thinkin’ I -sent you thet box, fer I didn’t. I’ll trust you never ter speak of hit -long as I live if I tell you. Hit war Jake Simcox—” - -“Jake—!” Talitha stopped short in amazement. - -“Yes, he’s repented of his folly and is turnin’ over a new leaf. He air -a good piece from Goose Creek and he’s got a chanct ter work an’ go ter -school. What’s more, he ’lows ter make up—some time—fer all the mischief -he done. But he war sech a pore ignorunt feller—I reckon you’ve fergiven -him, Tally, hit worked out a sight o’ good fer you and fer Goose Creek.” - -“Yes, yes, indeed!” cried the girl, the tears in her eyes, “and I’m so -glad he’s having a chance. I wish you’d tell him so.” - -“’Tain’t likely I’ll ever see him agin, but he’s goin’ ter make a man of -himself yit, I reckon.” The schoolmaster looked down at his favourite -pupil and there was a smile on his face that softened the plain, rugged -features like sunshine from within shining outwardly. Standing in the -glow of the firelight with the Christmas holly and pine on shelf and -wall, the twinkling candles—he had lighted in honour of his guests—the -white-haired, white-bearded man seemed like the memory of an old-time -Christmas that had slipped back to its mountain home for a brief renewal -of past pleasures. - -Talitha carried the picture away with her as she went thoughtfully down -the path toward the big pine where Martin waited. - - - - -XIII -THE “STILL” CAVE - - -BY dawn the next morning, the little party set forth for the return trip -across the mountains. The four had come the distance to Goose Creek on -horses and mules hired from the school farm. Talitha was mounted on Dan -Gooch’s sorrel he had unselfishly lent her, her father firmly refusing to -allow his one mule to be taken from the place. - -“I ’low they’ll find room on the farm fer the beastie, a spell,” said -Dan, anxious to show Talitha a favour. “I’m reckonin’ on gettin’ down -ter Bentville myself, come spring, ter see what the school air like and -what you’re doin’ thar.” - -“I wish you would make us a visit, Mr. Gooch,” urged Miss Howard, “and -then come back and tell the Goose Creek folks all about it and bring them -to Commencement.” - -“You’d never know whar ter stow ’em all,” Dan smiled broadly. - -“We’ll put up some tents on the campus,” put in Gincy. “You ought to see -what a splendid, big place it is with such lovely trees—” - -“It’s time we were starting,” called Martin in front, and the little -cavalcade moved away. The sorrel was in the rear, but the faithful old -beast did his best, and Talitha resolved that on reaching Bentville he -should have a well-earned rest until his master came after him. - -There was a wintry chill in the air, which was not surprising at that -early hour. If the sun came out it would be delightful travelling. -Martin watched the sky a little anxiously while the others laughed and -chatted on unheeding. At last, over the bald peak of the mountain, the -sun looked down at them through a veil of mist which gradually -disappeared. A cool wind was all that prevented the day from being as -delightful as the previous one had been. But their progress would -necessarily be slow, for the sorrel proved to have little endurance. -Talitha favoured him as much as possible by keeping behind the others and -slipping down occasionally to walk beside him with encouraging pats. - -“We can easily get as far as Joe Bradshaw’s,” said Martin. “They’ll be -looking for us about sundown.” - -The gorgeous colouring of autumn had gone from the mountains, but there -was still the holly with its scarlet berries, the green of the laurel, -the fir, and pine, and here and there, on hickory and oak, a patch of -colour where the leaves still clung. - -At noon the party stopped for dinner in a hollow shielded from the wind. -They spread out the eatables which they had brought in their saddlebags, -on the thick, green grass. The horses and mules were tethered to graze, -after being watered at a trickling rill which filtered out of the rocks -close beside them. - -After lingering longer than usual to give the sorrel a chance to rest, -the company started on. Miss Howard looked at her watch; it was -half-past one. “We’ll just about make it and that’s all,” she commented -to herself cheerfully. - -For some time after leaving the hollow they followed the dry bed of a -stream. The rocky bottom was covered with loose stones, and now and then -a small boulder jutted out from the bank. They were in shadow, for -hedging them in on either side, rose the mountains thickly covered with -pine. At last they left the stream bed and turned into a trail leading -over the mountain. Rising above it was the ridge of still another which -they must cross before the Bradshaw home could be sighted. - -In the effort of guiding their animals into the trail, they did not at -first notice the change in the sky until suddenly Martin, ahead, looked -up. The sun had disappeared, and a grey mist clung to the tall peaks. -The air had grown cold—a sudden drop of the temperature—which was an -unmistakable sign of the approaching storm. He did not call out to -startle those in the rear, but on reaching a small cove he turned the -mule he was riding into it, and beckoned to the others. They were coming -up Indian file, and one by one halted beside him—all but Talitha. Martin -could see her some distance below them. Something had happened to the -sorrel, for his sister had dismounted and was leading it with difficulty. - -“There’s a storm coming up.” Miss Howard shivered and looked around -anxiously. “It’s growing colder every minute, I do believe; I never knew -such a sudden change.” - -“It must have been coming on since noon only we were so sheltered we -didn’t notice it,” returned Martin. “Just hold Jack and I’ll go back and -help Talitha,” slipping the mule’s rein into Abner’s hand. - -The sorrel clung to the trail with three feet; the fourth was evidently -disabled. The animal’s ears were laid back and there was a despairing -look in his eyes. Vainly Talitha tugged at the rein while she gently -urged him on. - -“What’s the matter?” Martin inquired. - -“Well, he’s all tuckered out for one thing, then he’s got something in -his foot—a sharp stone, I reckon, for he’s limped ever since he left the -creek bed. Poor thing, I might have known he couldn’t stand such a -jaunt.” - -With difficulty Martin got down and examined the injured member. It did -not take him long, with the aid of his jack-knife, to extract the -offending stone, which had cut an ugly gash. “There, that feels better, -doesn’t it, old fellow? Just see if you can’t step along now.” He -stroked the animal’s nose coaxingly. “You’d better go ahead, Tally, and -we’ll follow.” The tired sorrel plucked up courage and limped after. - -When they reached the cove Abner silently pointed to the peaks on the -opposite range, and Martin saw with dismay that they were nearly buried -in a storm of flying snowflakes which was gradually drawing nearer. The -boys’ faces whitened as their eyes met. If they had been alone it would -be serious enough with the prospect of a heavy snowfall to wipe out the -trail, but with Miss Howard and the girls to look after—Martin felt a -shiver, which was not from the cold wind, creep over him. It was Miss -Howard herself who finally spoke with a calm decision. - -“Boys, have you plenty of matches?” - -“Yes,” they both answered. - -“And we have enough left from our lunch to make quite a respectable -supper. Well, it’s perfectly useless to think of going on to-night, I -can see that; the sorrel can’t endure it for one thing and the storm -would overtake us before we were halfway down the mountain. We’ve got to -camp out for the night—” - -“But where?” inquired Talitha, looking around in bewilderment. How bleak -and lonely the mountains looked, how shadowy they were growing already! - -“There, there, girls, we’re not going to worry,” Miss Howard said -cheerfully, noticing the troubled faces. “I’ve discovered that this is -the very place where we were caught in a heavy rain storm when I was out -on extension work with Professor and Mrs. Denny, and we found such a nice -place to spend the night. If I’m not mistaken I can go right to it—” A -snowflake struck Miss Howard’s cheek, another and another. “We haven’t -any time to spare. Come on and don’t lose sight of me for a minute.” - -“Wait, please, Miss Howard,” called Martin. “Tally must ride Jack and -I’ll lead the sorrel.” He helped his sister mount, and then the teacher -turned her horse toward the farthest side of the cove, the others -following. Martin saw one rider after another disappear, for the moment, -over the edge of the slope as though they had mysteriously slipped from -sight. He went on with a shamefaced feeling that he was not the one to -find shelter for the little company—he was older than Abner. But as well -as he knew the caves and passages around Goose Creek, these were strange -to him; he had never once thought of the possibility of some time needing -shelter among them. Although there was no way to help himself he felt -very uncomfortable. He pulled his hat brim low to shade his eyes—the -snow was coming faster—and watched the last of the straggling line that -in spite of his efforts was getting farther and farther away, winding -down around huge boulders and clusters of laurel and pine. Miss Howard -had been the first to vanish, now Talitha on the submissive Jack was also -out of sight. He urged his reluctant beast forward, several times nearly -missing his footing. - -Miss Howard had not been mistaken. As her friends said, her bump of -location was well developed. Just as the dusk and the storm were closing -down upon them, she led her followers into a narrow passageway between -rocky walls, and stopped at the large, black mouth of a cave. - -“Here we are,” she called back. “Where are your matches? I’d like to -see if the place is already inhabited.” - -“I have some.” Abner sprang to the ground, handed the mule’s rein to -Talitha, and came to the teacher’s side. - -“Feel on the ground just inside the cave and find me some dry twigs or -splinters, if you can; we must be careful of the matches.” - -The boy fumbled about on his knees for a moment. “Here are some and they -feel real tinder-y, too. Let me go ahead.” Abner struck a match and -applied it carefully to the pine twigs he had bunched. It made a fine -torch, revealing what at first appeared to be a small cave, but which -gradually widened as they went on to one of considerable dimensions. - -Several times the boy stopped to renew his torch. Fortunately there was -plenty of material—a litter of pine, balsam, and fir boughs, as though -the place had been recently occupied. There were no signs of the -presence of wild animals as the young woman had secretly feared, but -suddenly Abner stopped in astonishment. He instantly recognized the dark -object at the farther end of the cave and shivered, remembering certain -events of his boyhood days. - -“It’s only an old still that’s been there for years,” reassured Miss -Howard, failing to understand. She slipped from her horse. “Now we must -have a fire the very first thing. That’s the place,” pointing to what -seemed a natural fireplace in the rocky wall where lay a heap of ashes. -“There’s a kind of chimney above it, so we won’t be smoked out.” - -“Why, there’s a fine bed of coals!” Abner presently exclaimed, uncovering -them. - -“That’s fortunate; it’ll be such a saving of matches. I think we can -pick up plenty of stuff to make a good fire, then we must go out and -forage for enough to last through the night.” Miss Howard seemed as -cheerful and matter-of-fact as though she were in her own home, while in -reality she was much perplexed at the unmistakable evidences that the -place had, very recently, been inhabited. It was much too late in the -season for surveyors, or parties in search of botanical or geological -specimens. They might have been hunters lured to the mountains by the -unusually pleasant weather and the prospect of returning with a full game -bag. She tried to think of the latter possibility; at any rate the young -people’s suspicions must not be aroused. - -In a few moments Abner and Gincy had a brisk fire burning. Talitha was -feeding the horses and mules some corn she found in the saddlebags. -“They’ll have a pretty slim supper, I’m afraid, and they’re so hungry—I -wonder why Martin doesn’t come,” she broke off, looking anxiously toward -the entrance. “Do you suppose he could have missed the way?” - -“I think more likely the sorrel is having a hard time to get along,” said -her teacher. “But if he isn’t here soon Abner and I will go to meet -him.” - -The glow of the fire lighted the cave, and the young woman glanced around -with apparent carelessness, but her eyes were keen and watchful. Behind -the old still she picked up a man’s coat. It had not lain there long, -for it was only slightly damp and no musty smell clung to it. She -quietly tucked it into a niche of the wall. Over by the fire the girls -were examining the contents of the saddlebags in an effort to eke out a -respectable supper. “I wish I hadn’t eaten so much at noon,” she heard -Gincy say. “I didn’t need it and I feel just as hungry as though I -hadn’t had a bite of breakfast or dinner, either.” - -Miss Howard did not allow herself to think of the consequences should -they find themselves hemmed in by snowdrifts the next morning, but she -was again reminded that Martin had not yet appeared. Something must be -done immediately. She hurried over to the young people, and with their -help two large torches were made. One was lighted. “We may not need the -other, but we’ll keep it for an emergency,” she said. “Stay right here -and don’t worry; we’ll be back soon.” Miss Howard and Abner hurried out -of the cave. - -How dark it had grown! The young woman was startled as, with torch held -aloft, she peered out at the end of the passageway. There were no signs -of Martin anywhere. - -“You’d better call to him,” she said to Abner. - -“Halloo! halloo!” the lad repeated again and again, and then they both -listened. The echoes died away in the hollows of the great hills, but no -answering call came back to them. - - - - -XIV -LOST ON THE MOUNTAINS - - -MARTIN saw the last of his party through a cloud of whirling flakes. He -followed as fast as the lame and now nearly exhausted horse would allow -him, but not a trace of them was again visible. Even the tracks of the -animals were obliterated by the fast falling snow. He did not lose -courage, however, although the trail itself grew fainter and fainter in -the deepening twilight. But finally his steps grew more halting and -doubtful; twice he barely saved himself from slipping over a rocky ledge. -At last he paused in bewilderment. - -Shading his eyes with both hands he looked around. He could not see two -rods before him. Which way should he go? Where had the little company -disappeared? He hated to call and bring Miss Howard back to show him the -way—or perhaps she would send Abner. At any rate he must have help as -soon as possible, and lifting up his voice he shouted with all the -strength of his lungs, then waited in vain for some reply. The old horse -whinnied inquiringly and rubbed his cold nose against Martin’s shoulder. -It brought the young fellow’s grievance to mind afresh. If his father -had not refused to let Talitha ride Cain—a biddable young mule—although -there would be no work for the animal until spring, he would not be in -this plight; the whole party could have made much faster progress and -perhaps have reached the Bradshaw place in spite of the storm. But there -was no time for bitter reflection; he must keep moving. Evidently his -companions were already beyond the sound of his voice—call as he might. - -In that partially sheltered place he could feel the air growing colder—a -wind swept through the pines above his head and sent down light clouds of -snow. Martin shivered helplessly, then in despair made a plunge forward, -the sorrel stumbled after; both slipped—it was a misstep—and went down, -down, the young fellow still clinging to the bridle with one hand while -the other caught at bush and sapling to break his fall. Every moment he -expected the horse would descend upon him. It was so close he could hear -its frightened snorts as it crashed downward. - -Martin’s head grew dizzy, a weird light whirled before him; strange cries -echoed in his ears, and he felt numb in a helpless fright. Then he -suddenly stopped with a jolt and jar that opened his eyes. Still that -glow, brighter than ever, was before them. - -“Lands!” shouted a voice, “be careful or that critter’ll tromp on you!” - -“Why, the poor boy, he must have slipped over the bank and the horse -after him. It’s a miracle they were not killed!” - -Martin tried to speak, but he was too dazed to put the words together. - -“Abner, see if he’s hurt anywhere. I do hope there are no bones broken. -We shouldn’t have let him get so far behind,” Miss Howard was reproaching -herself severely. - -“I reckon he’s stunned more than anything else,” decided Abner wisely, -after helping Martin to his feet and brushing off the snow. “But if the -sorrel ain’t used up it’ll be a wonder. He air too old fer such -servigrous exercise.” - -Although the animal floundered about excitedly, his fright was partly due -to the flaming torch which Miss Howard held above her head. Abner soon -quieted the frantic creature. They were near the passageway leading to -the cave and shielded from the fury of the storm. - -“Soon as you can, fasten your horse to that pine and help me get Martin -in by the fire; we’ll come back after it shortly.” - -Together, the two helped the young fellow along the passageway. The -torch had suddenly flickered out, but a pale light showed the entrance to -the cave. Two heads were thrust anxiously out, then the watchers ran to -meet them. - -“Is Martin hurt?” exclaimed Talitha as she caught hold of him. - -“I don’t really think so,” assured her teacher, “but he must be chilled -through. We must get him in by the fire—not too close—and rub him well. -I wish he had something hot to drink.” - -Gradually Martin came to himself, although he seemed much exhausted. He -lay propped up near the fire, the girls hovering over him while Miss -Howard and Abner again disappeared. Presently they returned with the -sorrel. - -Except for numerous bruises and being badly shaken up, the old horse had -escaped injury, but it was plainly evident that he would not be able to -carry Talitha farther on her journey. - -None of the party were thinking of that now, they were too thankful to be -together once more. Fortunately the cave was large enough to allow of -the animals being tethered near the entrance and leave room about the -fireplace for their riders to spread the scanty supper. It was meagre -enough, and the party thought hungrily of the bountiful dinner they had -eaten that noon—it seemed like yesterday. If the weather permitted them -to go on the next morning there would be several hours’ journey before -they could get anything more to eat, and if they were obliged to stay -longer— That was too serious to think about and they tried to help Miss -Howard make as light of the situation as possible. - -“I saved an ear of corn for the sorrel,” whispered Talitha to Abner. -“It’s in Jack’s saddlebag.” It was terribly hard to see the faithful -animals nosing about on the ground for a bit of provender—much worse than -going without herself, Talitha thought. Abner nodded and slipped away. -After a time he returned with an armful of sticks and threw them down -before the fire. - -“I can easily find enough to last through the night, and perhaps I can -get a little fodder if I look around. It doesn’t seem to be snowing -quite so much, but I can hardly tell, it’s so sheltered here,” he said, -choosing some dry pine for another torch. - -“If you are going to start out foraging I’m going with you,” Miss Howard -declared. “I don’t want any more people getting lost. I’m sure that -Martin wouldn’t care to repeat his experience.” - -The young fellow shook his head. “I’ll be all right come morning, -though,” he announced confidently. - -“Let us go along and help Abner, then we can get all that is needed in -two or three trips,” begged Gincy. - -The young woman hesitated. “I don’t know but it might be a good plan,” -she answered finally. “But Martin must stay right where he is and try to -get rested.” - -Miss Howard halted at the entrance to the passageway, holding the torch -aloft and keeping a sharp eye on her charges. She might have been -Liberty enlightening the mountains as she stood there—the light flaming -out over the white slopes beyond. The snow was still falling upon them, -but in more scattering flakes as though the storm had spent its force. - -Suddenly, she saw—with a start—little gleams of light flash far upon the -opposite mountain-side. They vanished and again appeared in another -place as though people—there were certainly more than one—were moving -about. She thought of the coat she had found in the cave, and her old -anxiety returned. Talitha and Gincy coming up—their arms heaped with -firewood—wondered at her pale face. - -“I reckon you’re plumb tuckered out,” said the latter sympathizingly. -“My, what a pile Abner’s got! Don’t you ’low it’ll do us to-night if -we’re careful?” - -The teacher surveyed it with doubt, but she only said calmly, “I’m sure -it will last a long time, and if we should need any more it can be easily -gathered.” - -“If I only had a hatchet I could get some big sticks down in that -holler,” panted Abner. “I picked up a little green stuff for the beastes -to nibble at, it’ll make ’em more content, but it’s mighty poor feedin’.” - -Entering the cave they found Martin asleep by the fire. Quietly they -moved about, making themselves comfortable as possible for the night and -were soon dozing around the fireplace. - -Miss Howard did not allow her eyes to close. She watched and listened, -alert to catch any unusual sound, while the young people around her slept -fitfully. - -Late in the night she heard voices, then a wild shout and the crunching -of hoofs in the snow. The mules did not stir, but the horses became -restless and one of them whinnied. The sleepers awoke suddenly and sat -up. Miss Howard looked at her watch, it was nearly twelve o’clock. She -smiled at them sleepily. - -“Don’t you want to sing something?” she inquired. “Perhaps the night -won’t seem so long if we do.” - -Talitha rubbed her eyes. It was a strange request at that late hour and -in such a place, but she cheerfully joined in with the others when her -teacher began the old choral so familiar to Bentville pupils: - - “A mighty fortress is our God, - A bulwark never failing—” - -The strong, young voices filled the cave with strange echoes which -penetrated into the night. The singers caught the spirit of the song as -they went on and on. All their fears for the morrow had vanished. The -dumb creatures looked around at them in astonishment. - -Miss Howard was keeping her eyes on the entrance as she sang. Over the -animals’ heads she could see a light coming along the passageway. It -grew brighter and brighter as it neared the cave opening. Her charges -did not see it; Martin was singing with closed eyes, and the two girls -were watching Abner pile fresh sticks upon the fire. She knew how -superstitious were the mountain people, especially the lawless ones who -were fugitives from justice because of their propensity for appropriating -their neighbours’ horses and cattle. Was it possible that after all her -little party was to be molested? - -As the last note died away, a man’s head, covered with a coonskin cap, -was thrust inside and then as suddenly withdrawn. “Come on, Joe, Gid, -here they are safe and sound!” shouted a bluff voice, and the -Bradshaws—father and sons—hurried into the cave. - -With delighted shouts the wayfarers gathered around them. - -“We’ve been beatin’ ’bout these here mountings sence nine o’clock,” said -the older man, “and we war jest ready ter give up when we heard the -singin’. Hit war powerful deceivin’ at first—a-comin’ up out’n the -ground that-away, till I ’lowed you war nowhar but in that old still -cave.” - -“Then it was the light from your lanterns I saw when the young people -were gathering the firewood. Didn’t you see my torch?” - -Joe Bradshaw laughed while his father and brother looked sheepish. “Yes, -we did see it, but Pappy and Gid ’lowed it was a harnt. At first it -looked like a fire from where we were, and then it disappeared so -suddenly it really was mystifying.” - -“’Twas the singin’ thet fetched us,” persisted the elder Bradshaw. “We’d -been expectin’ you sence before sundown, and when hit went on nine -o’clock and war dark and snowy I ’lowed you war lost and we jest set out -ter sarch. Thar war a passel o’ hoss thieves in these parts a leetle -spell back, and we ’lowed, too, thet mebbe they’d got a holt of your -beastes and left you ter foot hit. Thet’s the reason we didn’t sarch -here fust thing. This has been the place ter find sech as them, and we -warn’t nowise anxious ter make their ’quaintance.” - -“Gid has some corn in the saddlebags for the beastes,” said Joe, “and I -have something for your supper that mother sent. You must be nearly -starved.” - -But Talitha agreed with her teacher that it would be better to wait until -morning and have a hearty meal before continuing their journey. Relieved -of the necessity for watchfulness, Miss Howard was soon asleep. After -talking a little longer her charges followed suit while the Bradshaws -kept careful guard. - -It was later than usual when the little company breakfasted the next -morning. There was no finer cook in all the mountains than Mrs. -Bradshaw. A large loaf of light bread and a bag of crullers were a -welcome addition to the potatoes Joe had put roasting in the ashes at an -early hour, and the bacon, eggs, and coffee served in true camp fashion. -As they ate they could hear the melting snow dripping from the rocks. -The sun was shining and sent splashes of light into the passageway. They -could not be otherwise than merry, although they listened with a shiver -to Martin’s account of his experience the previous night. - -“It seemed as though I slipped miles—that I should never get to the foot -of this awful mountain. And I could hear the old sorrel tearing along -after me. Every minute I expected he’d land on top and I’d be crushed to -a pulp—” - -“But he didn’t,” Abner chimed in. “The old beastie is sure ’nough game. -I’ve seen him slide down into the holler from Red Mountain when it was -icy, and he just put his legs together stiff and slipped along as slick -as—” - -“You’d better ride my hoss critter the rest of the way,” Gid offered with -true mountain hospitality. “I’ll lead the sorrel home and keep him ’til -he’s called fer—thar’s ’nough stable room.” - -Talitha felt as grateful for this proposal as Abner and Gincy could -possibly have done, for she knew the animal would have the best of care -and a long rest. Dan Gooch would not be able to come for him until -spring opened. - -Before leaving the cave Miss Howard brought out the coat she had tucked -away. The elder Bradshaw examined it closely, while the others watched -his face, which wore a mysterious expression. “I’d best pack hit ’long -with me,” he said presently. “I might happen on the owner; I reckon he -war in haste ter git away or he’d never left sech as this behind in the -ol’ still cave. I call hit downright onlucky.” - -“I never knew before there was a still in these parts,” said Martin. “I -thought it was over by Pigg Branch.” - -“Mebbe you’ll find one thar now if you’ll take the resk of sarchin’ fer -hit, but this here one war put out o’ business a cornsiderable spell -back.” The man chuckled with such evident amusement that all but Miss -Howard and his two sons stared in surprise. - -“I think you’d better tell them,” urged the former, “it is a very -interesting story.” - -“My mam war sure ’nough peart,” grinned the old man. “Lish Dumley kep’ -this still when I war ’bout Joe’s age, and pap and I uster come up and -call on him oftener’n war fer our good. Hit made mam mighty sober-sided, -but we never paid no ’tention ter anythin’ she said. One day she tuk hit -inter her head ter go ter the Gap ter see Lizy Sneed-they war gals -tergether—and left pappy and me ter tend the young-uns. - -“That night this ol’ still war raided and Lish Dumley and his men caught -red-handed. Hit’s the last they seen of the mountings fer many a year, -’cept mebbe what they could view through the bars.” - -“I ’low your mammy was mightily pleasured to have the stillin’ stopped,” -said Gincy innocently. - -Mr. Bradshaw smiled broadly. “Law, yes. When mam undertook a thing hit -war good as done. She never said nothin’ ter nobody, but the sheriff let -hit leak out; he war thet pleased mam war so gritty. Pappy ’lowed -Dumley’d burn our cabin once he got out’n the pen, but I reckon he war -too broken-sperited ter take revenge thet’d only shut him up agin.” - -“I ’low our mammy’d do the same thing if thet still war a-runnin’ now,” -said Gid proudly. “She air mighty servigrous when hit comes ter whiskey -and sech, and pappy air jest as set agin hit, too.” - -The little party looked with a new interest around the cave, and at the -dark silent object which the sheriff and his men had wrecked that it do -no more harm. If it only had a voice how many strange tales it could -tell them. - -Out on the trail once more with the sun shining above their heads, they -made more rapid progress than the day previous. Gid was far in the rear -leading the sorrel. Not more than a quarter of a mile from the cave, Mr. -Bradshaw, who was ahead, stopped suddenly. As the rest of the party came -up he pointed into a sheltered hollow shut in by rocky walls. - -“See whar those fellers stopped last night. Hit’s a wonder they didn’t -rout you out of thet cave and take your beastes.” A heap of ashes and -the much trodden earth showed where the desperadoes had camped. Gincy -and Talitha were pale with fright. How near they had been to danger -after all! - -Because of their late start, the party did not reach the Bradshaw home -until nearly noon. - -“I ’lowed you’d come,” Mrs. Bradshaw declared. “The boys and their pappy -generally gits what they go after. Only I reckoned they might hev -fetched along a couple or so of them hoss thieves, the sheriff and his -men hev been a-sarchin’ fer, seein’ thar war sech a comp’ny of you,” she -added. - -“I hev found whar they war last night,” exclaimed Pappy Bradshaw -triumphantly. “And I hev somethin’ ter remember the leader of the gang. -He may be a-callin’ fer hit some day.” The man chuckled loudly to -himself, but Miss Howard instantly changed the subject. - -In good season the next morning the party were once more on their way and -reached Bentville early that evening. - - - - -XV -THE WALKING PARTY - - -SPRING came on apace. There was a lingering perfume from the apple -blossoms in the air when Lalla proposed a walking party. “We’ll go to -the Crater, have our supper, and come back by moonlight. Miss Howard’s -going with us—isn’t it grand?” - -“Splendid!” said Gincy. “I reckon Miss Howard’s planning to let some one -else inspect the rooms and hall this afternoon; she knows I can’t squeeze -in another thing and go. I’m worn out already trying to plan for my -work, and lessons, and music.” - -“That’s all arranged,” said Lalla, “we’re to start promptly from the -front steps at two o’clock. I’ll help you put away the towels; I’m all -ready this minute!” - -Gincy looked at Lalla’s short, brown skirt and percale waist as she was -counting the sheets. “Well,” she said at last, “I don’t believe I’ve a -thing to wear—climbing’s terribly hard on clothes.” - -“I’ve another old skirt you’re welcome to; it’s a fright, though.” - -“Bring her along, I’ll be plumb tickled to improve her looks,” agreed -Gincy gaily. - -Lalla ran off and soon reappeared with a bright homespun. “That’s what I -wore for the first three months. I thought it was pretty then; I never -saw such a thing to wear, you can’t tear it to save your life!” - -“I’ll be a regular beacon light, we won’t need the moon coming back,” -said Gincy as she flew around to finish her morning’s work. “I’ll put a -twist of red ribbon around Abner’s old hat. I’ve a piece that’s almost a -match.” - -When the four girls gathered on the front porch of the Hall, there sat -Miss Howard with her folding easel and box of paints. “Girls,” she said, -“suppose we change our minds and go to Slate Lick this afternoon, then I -can do some sketching.” - -“Good!” exclaimed Gincy delightedly. “I haven’t been out that way at -all.” - -“It’s mighty pretty, and not so hard walking,” said Kizzie, and the rest -seemed equally pleased with the change. - -“We’ll go down Scafflecane Pike and cut across to the railroad, it’s a -good deal shorter.” Miss Howard gathered up her belongings and started -off ahead at a brisk pace. At the gate they met Mallie and Nancy Jane, -the latter had been crying. - -“Let’s ask them to go with us,” said Miss Howard, turning suddenly. -There was a brief consultation behind the cypresses, then Lalla sped back -after the two. - -“Tell them to come just as they are!” called Urilla. “Thank goodness, -they aren’t dressed up.” - -“What a queer looking bundle,” remarked Mallie as the two joined the -waiting group. - -“Isn’t it?” responded Gincy, patting a bulky parcel. “Shooting irons -come handy whar thar air dangerous animals,” relapsing into her former -vocabulary. - -Nancy Jane brightened visibly. “I’m glad some one feels funny; I’ve been -too homesick for anything all day. I haven’t had a letter this week.” - -“You’ll get one on the evening mail,” Gincy assured her. “No news, good -news. I belong to the Don’t Worry Club; you’d better join.” - -“Guess I will. I’ve got to scratch around and find out about a lot of -new birds before I see Professor Lewis again. I don’t know any, for -sure, except robins and buzzards. This will be a good time to get -information.” - -There was a general laugh in which Nancy Jane joined, her sorrows for the -moment occupying the background. They filed down the long, straight road -and crossed Silver Creek. There was a substantial bridge—built for high -water—but Lalla and Mallie preferred the rickety foot-bridge farther down -which trembled at every slight bit of weight imposed upon it. Miss -Howard watched rather anxiously, but was soon reassured. They reached -the farther end safely and started off across the fields toward the -railroad. - -The foothills seemed a vast, undulating semicircle. One bold knob higher -than the rest, with precipitous sides patched with pines, stood out with -more importance; but it lacked their allurement of tender colouring. - -Straight into the heart of the range, the railroad cut its way, and a -long, creeping freight train trailed by just as they turned to follow the -track. A shower of cinders deluged Mallie and Lalla; they wheeled and -walked backward until Gincy and Kizzie caught up. Nancy Jane panted -close behind. - -“I’ve got a monster in my eye!” moaned Mallie, plucking at the offender. -Her efforts were vain, and each girl, in turn, was rewarded in the same -way. Urilla and Miss Howard, far in the rear, were talking too earnestly -to make much progress, or notice the group ahead. - -“I’m so glad your mother’s better,” the teacher was saying. “I know you -want to stay, and we can’t spare such girls as you very well.” - -Urilla’s face beamed. “Oh, Miss Howard, do you really mean it? I feel -that I’m improving, I was so stupid at first—now I can see through things -better. Gincy’s helped me, she’s always saying something nice and -encouraging.” - -“Gincy’s a treasure!” said Miss Howard warmly. “But where are the girls, -they were on the track a minute ago?” - -Another train thundered by. “I wish they wouldn’t keep so far ahead, -that’s the 3:15, and it goes like lightning when it’s making up time,” -Urilla remarked uneasily. - -They hurried along, scanning each clump of bushes and stack of grain, but -no one was visible. “They couldn’t have gone in here!” exclaimed Miss -Howard, looking at a little weather beaten cabin very near the track. -Then she listened. Yes, there were voices that sounded familiar. -Through the half-open door, the two caught glimpses of Gincy’s bright -skirt and gay hat. - -“I wonder what they’re doing, and why we didn’t see them when they turned -off the track,” said Urilla as they opened a rickety gate and went into -the yard. “What a dreadful place to live!” - -Miss Howard agreed as she looked at the forlorn and desolate little cabin -with not one home-like feature; even the yard was bare and wind-swept. - -“Why, there’s Talitha!” - -“What?” The two pushed up eagerly. - -“Mrs. Donnelly told me this morning she had gone to see some of her -kinfolk, but I didn’t know they lived here,” said Urilla, looking -curiously at the bare little cabin. - -Standing just inside the door, the missing girls were talking to Talitha, -who, with her dress pinned up around her and a towel over her head, was -busy cleaning. Three small children played near the fireplace, and -beyond, propped upon an old pillow, her bright eyes watching the -newcomer, was the tiniest woman they had ever seen. - -“Have you had measles?” asked Talitha, waving her broom at them. “If you -haven’t, stay out.” - -“Of course,” answered Urilla scornfully, “years ago; but I don’t see -any.” - -Another wave directed them to a small bed near a darkened window. Two -flushed faces peered above a ragged quilt. - -“Why!” gasped Urilla, taking in the situation. “But how did you know? I -thought—” - -Miss Howard suddenly interrupted with, “This must be Mrs. Gantley. I -intended to find you yesterday, but I thought you lived on the Big Hill -pike. Are you feeling better?” - -The little woman shifted her position slightly, a shadow of a smile -flitting across her face. “Yes, since Tally came I’m easier in my mind. -The children ain’t bad sick—jest feverish and powerful troublesome; I -couldn’t keep ’em from ketchin’ cold no way, out o’ bed.” - -Gincy and Talitha were having a quiet conference in another part of the -room. “I found out this morning that she’s kin on mother’s side—way -back,” said the latter in a low voice. “They used to live in Cowbell -Hollow, but he ran away and left them a month ago.” - -Talitha looked unutterable things as she referred to the recreant Mr. -Gantley. Accustomed as she was to the delinquencies of the mountain men, -the desertion of a helpless family seemed the blackest of crimes. She -glanced meaningly in the direction of a large basket in the corner, and -whispered, “They were almost starving. Martin helped me or I couldn’t -have got it here—Mrs. Donnelly gave me so many things, but—” - -“See here,” said Gincy, slipping an arm around Talitha’s waist, “I’m -going to stay and help; I can go for a walk any Saturday. We’ll scrub -the children, gather wood, and cook. Won’t it be fun!” - -“Are you sure you want to?” asked Talitha, her tired face brightening. - -“Of course; the rest can trot along just the same.” - -“Dear me,” grumbled Lalla as they proceeded without Gincy, “I’d like to -get hold of that man. Do you know anything about the family, Miss -Howard?” - -“Not much, only he’s fond of moonshine. He sold the home about three -weeks ago—told her he was getting ready to come to Bentville, where there -was a good school for the children. When she found that he had really -gone, she thought he might be here and followed him.” Miss Howard walked -on with her head held high; she did not want the girls to read in her -face the fulness of disgust which she felt for a man of that type. There -were others like him whose sons and daughters were working their way -through school, trying to redeem the family name and become worthy -citizens. - -“It’s a shame!” said Mallie. “They ought to catch him and make him work -good and hard—beat him if he didn’t—and give all his wages to his folks. -I’d teach him to run away from those pretty children, and—” - -“There isn’t a chair in the house,” interrupted Nancy Jane, “and I didn’t -see a dish. That poor woman might just as well chase a Bushy tail; -she’ll never see him again—not until the children grow up, then he’ll -come back and live on them.” - -“I should be glad to get rid of him,” said Urilla conclusively. “I’ve -seen men like that before.” - -There was silence for a moment, and the group became more widely -scattered. Lalla forged straight ahead until she was several rods in -advance. She scanned the great slate boulders on either side and -listened. There were voices, familiar ones, then all was quiet. -Everywhere the foothills hemmed them in. Suddenly a rock crashed in -front of her. Looking up she saw Abner’s shock of light hair as, flat on -his stomach, he peered over the edge of the cliff. The head disappeared -and an improvised mask took its place. - -“Halt!” commanded a muffled voice which closely resembled Martin’s. -Lalla threw up her hands in mock fright. “Come around behind that pine -tree, we’re laying for some of our crowd. There’s something in the wind -to-day, for Raphael Sloan and Joe Bradshaw sneaked off without letting us -know—dropped out all of a sudden. Keep your eye peeled for them, won’t -you? Likely they’re up at the springs.” - -“Don’t let the rest know we’re here,” warned Abner, peering over Martin’s -shoulder, “it might spoil the fun.” - -“I guess not,” agreed Lalla with her old love for a joke. “Go ahead and -have your fun; but what if they go back the other way?” - -“You mustn’t let ’em. Think up some scheme; you can do it.” Both heads -disappeared as Nancy Jane’s voice was borne to them from below. - -Lalla picked a few violets and walked on carelessly, looking up at the -mountains on the opposite side. “Hurry up or we’ll never get there!” she -called back, waving her flowers; “there’ll be heaps of these at Slate -Lick.” - -The gorge widened. A trickling, shallow stream crept through the bed. -The foothills seemed suddenly to have become mountains and surrounded -them, making a basin-like valley. On the opposite side, sheltered by -walnuts, stood a few deserted houses and a building which seemed halfway -between a store and a peanut stand. - -“There’s quite a colony here in summer,” said Miss Howard, when at last -they stood in front of the spring house and fitted the long key into the -padlock. “The sulphur water calls them, and the view. Isn’t it -beautiful! I want to get the Knob painted in while the haze is over it. -You young folks run along and do your climbing; I’ll whistle for you when -it’s time to go back.” - -“If Talitha and Gincy were only here!” sighed Kizzie after the first long -climb. Together they stood panting for breath and watched the scene -below. - -“Where’s Lalla? She beats everything for disappearing right before one’s -eyes,” Nancy Jane frowned. - -“Couldn’t lose her though, that’s the beauty of it,” remarked Urilla as -they looked around behind the trees and boulders. Below, Miss Howard sat -intent upon her canvas. A tinkling cowbell was the only sound which -greeted their ears. “I’m for going on. It’s one of Lalla’s tricks; -she’s a good deal nearer than we think—probably laughing at us this -minute.” - -But Lalla, when she dropped behind the rest, had taken a trail leading -off to the left. She was sure that it came back to the main trail again, -and it would give her a splendid opportunity to pop out and surprise -them. She soon found that it led around an immense boulder, that it was -steep, and grew steeper. As she paused quite breathless, the sound of -men’s voices came from behind the rock. - -A clump of small evergreens made a convenient hiding-place; behind them -Lalla listened. She was not in the least alarmed, only curious. The -voices grew louder, one of them seemed to be chanting or reciting -something; it was hard to tell which. Lalla stole out a little farther -and crouched close to the rock, listening breathlessly. - -“Louder, Raf, so I can hear you at this distance.” Lalla fancied she -could have touched Joe Bradshaw had not the rock projected a thin edge -between them. She sank noiselessly into a bed of tall ferns. So here -were the truants! Martin and Abner should hear about them; she would -jump out and give Joe the scare of his life. - -On and on went the voices, the nearer one correcting and halting the -speaker from time to time. - -Lalla listened intently; her eyes grew larger. What was Raphael saying! -She sat perfectly rigid as the truth flashed upon her. It was his speech -for the Mountain Congress, and he was to speak against Abner. No wonder -they stole away from the boys. - -For some minutes Lalla sat undecided. Raphael Sloan was a formidable -opponent, and Abner new at the business of debating. If she could only -give the latter a hint—she wouldn’t tell right out. How proud Gincy -would be to have her brother win the debate. Her heart beat fast and she -listened as she had never listened before; not a word must be lost and -she must not be discovered now for the world! - -“You’ll have to be ready for the rebuttal; they’ll get you on that -point—Abner’s working like a tiger.” And then there was an audible -movement on the other side of the boulder which made Lalla’s heart beat -like a trip-hammer. To her infinite relief, Raphael Sloan moved on up -the trail and Joe after him. She could hear their voices growing fainter -and fainter each moment. - -Cautiously she slipped from her hiding-place and retraced her steps to a -point lower down. There was a way to cut across the other trail, but it -was through blackberry bushes, wild grapevines, and a tangle of -underbrush. Lalla did not hesitate, however; slipping and sliding, she -fairly rushed forward, not stopping for scratches nor even bruises. From -the thicket she suddenly emerged into a small opening—hardly a -clearing—in which was a tiny shack of logs. To all appearances it was -deserted, but Lalla decided to avoid it and come out just beyond. A gun -sounded very near; a hound bayed. She shrank back where the shadows were -deep, and silently threaded her way in the direction of the old trail. -It could not be many rods farther on. - -For fully a half-hour she stumbled along, then she heard Nancy Jane’s -voice, and the girls fell on her with loud reproaches. - -“I was exploring,” Lalla said with shining eyes, and then she told them -about the cabin. “It’s mighty secret; I’d never found it only for taking -the short cut. Folks could do stillin’ and no one be the wiser.” - -“I wonder if they do make moonshine there,” said Mallie after a pause. -“We heard that shot and were worrying about you. Don’t you run away -again.” - -Lalla smiled, but did not answer. - -A long whistle came from below. It was repeated. “That’s Miss Howard!” -exclaimed Kizzie. “She wants us right away; see how late it’s getting.” - -All the way down Lalla was very quiet. Her head was full of plans to -help Abner and find out more about the mysterious cabin. Mystery -appealed to her vivid imagination and stimulated her to immediate action. - -A thin trail of smoke came up to them as they made the last steep descent -into the basin. “Oh, Lalla, Miss Howard’s getting supper and I’m so -hungry,” said Kizzie. But Lalla was thinking of the two boys—which way -could they have gone home? - - - - -XVI -THE MOUNTAIN CONGRESS - - -IT was several days before Lalla saw Abner alone. He was certainly -working like a tiger. He rushed over to meals, and when the boys were -dismissed, was gone like a shot, not waiting to join the groups who -visited in the yard. - -It wanted a week of the Mountain Congress when she followed him into the -library one day and straight back to the stack room. There was a long -table in one corner and piles of reference books on it. Abner had -snatched his cap off and was digging for the bottom one of the nearest -pile when Lalla touched his shoulder. - -“Working on your debate?” she whispered. “I hope you’ll win.” - -Abner looked up gratefully. “I don’t reckon on it much—Raphael’s an old -hand, they tell me—but I’m learnin’ a lot, that’s one sure thing.” - -“I’ve thought of some points which will be likely to help you.” Lalla -pushed a sheet his way. “You can never tell what they’re going to spring -on you just at the last.” - -Abner took it with a look of surprise. “I didn’t know that you even knew -the subject of the debate; we’ve tried to keep it a secret.” Lalla -reddened—she had not thought of this emergency. “Of course I told -Gincy,” Abner continued, “and I know she trusts you, so it’s all right.” - -He had misconstrued her evident embarrassment, and was trying to reassure -her. For one moment Lalla’s courage failed, but she was sure Abner stood -little chance of winning without some help, and there was almost no risk -of discovery, not even if Gincy told her brother that she had kept the -secret. - -Lalla’s impetuous nature was capable of a good deal of -self-sacrifice—mistaken at times, but nevertheless genuine in motive. -She had a warm feeling of gratitude toward the girl who had not, by even -so much as a look, hinted at her adventures with the master key. Indeed, -Lalla felt that Gincy had entire confidence in her assurance that she -would be perfectly straightforward from that time on. - -It was the mountain warfare over again, and Lalla did not feel any real -compunction about the methods. She knew instinctively, however, that -Gincy and Abner would look at it differently and was prepared for -questions. - -However, they did not come. “These seem like dandy points; they might do -me a heap of good when it comes to the final touchdown.” Abner showed -her the result of his digging for the last few weeks—a whole tablet full -of notes, disorderly enough but right to the point. - -Lalla glanced over them with a shrewd eye, and nodded. “Abner, they’re -splendid! But won’t you be scared half to death in front of that crowd?” - -He shook his head resolutely. “I’m going to bluff it if I am; it doesn’t -do to show one’s feelings.” - -“No, and Goose Creek folks aren’t the scary kind.” - -“You bet they aren’t—not the girls, anyhow.” Abner spoke with -conviction. - -Devotional exercises the next morning were brief. Then the excitement -began. Banners went up all over the chapel, and nominations were made -for governor of Appalachian America. There were speeches and special -music to arouse enthusiasm for the Mountain Congress. - -The girls from Clay sat in the gallery—a row of bright faces keenly -watching every movement below to see what counties were represented. - -“There’s Pike, and Letcher, and Magoffin!” whispered Gincy excitedly. - -“And Floyd, and Knott, and Breathitt!” added Talitha. - -“Perry, Harlan, Leslie, and—Oh, look at Clay! Goody! Goody!” Mallie -almost lost her balance and fell into the crowd below. Nancy Jane pulled -her back and kept a firm grip on the excited girl for some time. - -“It’s awfully interesting!” sighed Lalla, her eyes growing bigger as she -watched the platform. “But I suppose the congress itself will be twice -as exciting.” - -There were funny speeches from the candidates, each vying with the other -in promising favour to his particular section of the country. The -applause was frequent, and the college band played “Dixie.” Every one -filed out full of enthusiasm; they would know the result of the election -by evening. - -Lalla and Gincy walked over to Memorial Hall behind Abner and Martin. -There was a grand rally out in front—practising yells and singing class -songs. The noise was deafening. - -“I’m saving my voice until Friday night,” Lalla told Abner in the first -lull. “I know you’re going to beat and then you’ll hear me yell!” - -Gincy smiled happily. “Abner’s going to do his best; that’s the main -thing. I’m proud to think he’s even got a chance to do it, without his -beating.” - -“Of course it’s an honour to have the chance,” said Lalla, “but, Gincy, -just think how proud Goose Creek will be to have Abner come home with the -medal.” - -In spite of himself Abner flushed with pleased anticipation. He was -making the fight of his life for a public honour and did not intend to be -beaten. Every word of his speech was photographed upon his brain, ready -for instant use, if—and here was the hard part—if his opponent did not -think of some entirely new line of argument. - -Friday evening found the Hall alive with excitement. The girls were -divided into factions. Raphael Sloan was the best debater Bentville had -had for some time, and while Abner was popular, he was too new to inspire -general confidence. Nearly everybody—except the Goose Creek folks—was -sure of the boy who had never been defeated. - -The chapel was in an uproar when the girls arrived. Occupying the centre -and front were delegates from each county to the Mountain Congress. -Class colours were everywhere in evidence. Pennants were fluttering, and -yell after yell went up when the Governor of Appalachian America—one of -the senior boys—took his seat on the platform. - -Afterwards the whole thing seemed like a dream to Lalla. Raphael, tall, -dark-eyed, with the flush of anticipated victory on his face. Abner, -intense, pale at first and somewhat hesitating, but warming up with fiery -eloquence toward the last and meeting every argument with growing -confidence. - -Not once did he fail in the rebuttal, nor even hesitate, and Lalla saw an -amazed look creep over Joe Bradshaw’s face as Abner answered with a -glibness born of knowledge, sweeping the very foundation from under his -opponent’s feet. - -There could be but one verdict, and the Goose Creek girls saw Abner -hoisted upon strong, young shoulders and borne in triumph around the -room. Once more the pennants waved and pandemonium broke loose. This -time they joined in the yells. Lalla, in the centre of the circle of -girls, never stopped until her voice gave out. - -Joe Bradshaw took his roommate’s defeat quite philosophically. He was -fond of Abner and Martin, but somewhat puzzled at the former’s quick -replies to every argument. “You did splendidly!” he said, wringing -Abner’s hand. “Clay County is right to the front to-night.” - -Abner gave Lalla a quick glance of gratitude. She was watching him as he -talked to Joe and the surrounding boys, not forgetting to wave at the -home girls who found it impossible to reach him. Gincy’s eyes were full -of tears—proud ones. If her father and mother could only have been here -to see Abner beat the best debater in all the mountain counties. It -would have rewarded them for every sacrifice. - -There was to be a spread in the Industrial Building for the winner. -Talitha and Martin held frequent conferences all the next day, and by -four o’clock a constant procession of boys and girls were busy carrying -parcels, bunting, and branches of pine for decoration, and making the -rooms of the Agricultural Department attractive for the evening crowd. -It was to be a great event for the Goose Creek folks, and they had -prepared accordingly. Pete Shackley guarded the chickens. “I knew -Abner’d beat, those roosters have been crowing under my bed for two -nights. I toted the box into my room the minute I bought them; there’s -no telling where they’d be to-day if I hadn’t.” - -Gincy and Mallie kept the door of Number 4 securely locked, but that -precaution did not prevent savoury odours from escaping which the boys -sniffed eagerly. - -“Cake!” exclaimed Martin delightedly. “Tally said Miss Browning was -going to let them use the cooking room all day. I smell fruit cookies, -too. My, but it’s going to be a spread! I wonder what Piny Twilliger’s -doing ’round here; she likes good eating, I suppose.” - -“Of course, but didn’t you know she’s Abner’s cousin from Redbird?” and -Isaac Shackley grasped a big pot of ferns and moved on, leaving Martin -staring in astonishment. - -Piny was so tall and snappy and altogether loud—such a contrast to -Gincy—Martin had taken a special dislike to her the very first time she -came to Harmonia. That was at the opening of the spring term and now it -was getting pretty well along toward Commencement. But the girl’s voice -did not seem to improve—it was still coarse and penetrating—she wore the -gayest colours, and Martin couldn’t enumerate all the reasons why he -disliked her, but he did. - -It was growing dusk when everything was ready for the spread. They were -to serve it in the Domestic Science room at eight o’clock. Nancy Jane -had the key and was instructed to remain in charge until the ice cream -arrived, then hurry over to the Hall to dress. Nancy Jane turned on the -lights and surveyed the room with satisfaction; there was a good deal to -show for all their work. The cake was delicious, the chicken fried to a -turn. There were great plates of rolls and plenty of pickles. The long -table down the centre of the room was decorated with Abner’s class -colours, while all around, in festoons, were the orange and black of the -Mountain Society—the first typifying the brilliant autumn colouring of -the hills; the second, the wealth of coal found in their mines. - -The building was far from deserted. There was a clatter of feet up and -down the bare stairs—fully a dozen boys roomed on the third floor—and -Nancy Jane locked the door to secure herself from unceremonious callers. -“They’d like to play some game on us—those seniors,” she thought. -“They’re pretty sore because a new pupil carried off the honours.” - -It was seven o’clock, but the cream had not come, and Nancy Jane was in a -quandary. Some one rattled the door knob. “Who is it?” she asked. - -“Piny, Piny Twilliger. Let me in; I’ve come to take your place and let -you get dressed. Martin had a message that the cream wouldn’t be here -for half an hour yet. There wasn’t another soul ready, so Gincy asked me -to come.” - -Nancy Jane unlocked the door to let in—was it really Piny? The tall -figure was attired in a bright red muslin much beruffled. A brilliant -bow with generous outstanding loops surmounted the dozen or more puffs of -hair, and excitement lent additional colour to cheeks that were always -flushed. - -Nancy Jane hurried over to the Hall and up to her room. She didn’t even -take time to ask Gincy why she had sent Piny Twilliger to guard the -precious cream. It wouldn’t do to say much about kinfolk. But all the -time she was hurrying into her white dotted lawn, she wondered if -anything would happen to their eatables. Surely some of the girls would -be ready in a few minutes. - -It was almost a quarter of eight when Nancy Jane ran down the front -stairs. She rapped lightly at several doors, but there was no response. -Evidently everybody who belonged to the Mountain Society had gone. It -was only a short distance to the Industrial Building, and she ran across -the campus toward the lights. There was the buzzing of excited -voices—the front walk seemed thronged with students. What could have -happened? Nancy Jane felt an awful premonition of disaster. Of course -it was the cream. Piny must have left her post and some of the boys -carried it off. - -“Is that you, Nancy Jane?” It was Mallie’s voice. “The cake’s -gone—every scrap! Some one rapped on the door and Piny went out; it was -the boys with the cream, and while they were talking some one tore the -screen and jumped in the side window and took every smitch of cake off -the table. Piny’s rushing ’round like a hornet and vows she’ll find out -who did it before she sleeps a wink to-night. But I don’t believe she -can; it’s either eaten up or hidden by this time.” - -Nancy Jane listened in dismay. All their lovely frosted cake gone! She -ran into the room looking for Piny—somehow she wanted to hear the whole -story from her lips. - -But among the babel of voices Piny’s could not be heard. She had -disappeared completely and did not hear Martin’s angry comment. “I -shouldn’t wonder if she had hidden it herself; she’d think that was a -great joke.” - -“Hush, Martin,” said Talitha, “Piny isn’t mean if she is fond of a joke.” -But Martin’s eyes continued to flash as he walked out into the dark, -around the building, and looked up at the outside stairs. They were -built more as a fire-escape, but the boys on the upper floor often used -them. Martin stood in the shadow of the wood-working department and eyed -the row of lighted windows. A dark object was crouched on the upper step -and as he eyed it intently, it rose and began a noiseless descent. - -Martin edged as close as he dared. It passed the lower window and he -saw, to his utter amazement, that it was Piny Twilliger, who seemed in -great haste to get down. He intercepted her as she reached the ground. -“What is it, Piny?” he whispered. - -“I’ve found them!” she gasped, “and the cake isn’t eaten yet. Get all -the boys together you can. Some will have to watch the door of their -room—it’s Seth Laney and that crowd. You’d better get the Shackley boys -and go up on the outside—that’s the only way you’ll get in. While the -rest are making an awful racket in the hall to attract their attention, -you can climb in the window.” - -“You do beat everything!” exclaimed Martin, quite conscience-smitten to -think he had ever suspected Piny. “You’re a regular general! You bet -we’ll get that cake,” and he ran around the building and into the big -front entrance like a shot. - -It took only a minute to plan the campaign as outlined by Piny. There -was an instant siege—within ten minutes an unconditional surrender—and -the cake was saved. Borne down in triumph by Martin and Abner, they -paused in front of her with a low bow. “Madam,” they said, “the honour -belongs to you. Have a piece.” - -But Piny laughingly refused to be made a heroine of, and waited until -every one else was served. She blushed furiously when they toasted her -in lemonade for her presence of mind and courage. “I reckon hit wan’t -much,” she said, modestly disclaiming all honours. “I’d promised to -watch things, an’ I wan’t goin’ to be beaten nohow.” - -The spread was a great success. Afterwards, Abner walked back to the -Hall with Gincy and Lalla. “You helped me a lot,” he assured the latter. -“I worked up all those notes you gave me and they seemed to strike the -nail on the head. I don’t see how you ever thought of them.” - -“That wasn’t anything,” said Lalla, “you had a dozen points a good deal -better than mine. I’m glad the decision was unanimous for you, though; -it was a bigger honour.” - -“I didn’t know you helped Abner,” remarked Gincy as they sat in her room -waiting for the warning bell to ring. “I’m so proud of him and grateful -to you. Miss Howard says you do splendidly in your work this term, -Lalla.” - -“You always say such nice things,” answered Lalla, evading Gincy’s eye. -“There isn’t another girl in Bentville who has encouraged me the way you -have. I guess I remember, and—” She broke off suddenly. Perhaps after -all she would better tell Gincy the truth about the debate. - -Gincy listened, her hard-working hands tightly clasped, and a sinking at -her heart. It was just plain cheating and the Gooch family had never -done anything like that. Of course Abner didn’t know or he never would -have used the paper Lalla gave him—that was one comfort. Then Gincy -thought of Raphael. Perhaps after all the medal really belonged to him; -but how could she straighten it all out? Why were there so many tangles -in life, anyhow? - -“Gincy,” said Lalla, abruptly changing the subject, “that Mr. Gantley has -come back. Talitha told me this evening and I forgot to tell you. The -college folks found him up in that shack on the mountain, and they told -him he’d got to go to work or they’d lock him up, and then they gave him -a job in the garden. You needn’t worry about the family any more.” - -Lalla ran to her room at the sound of the bell, leaving Gincy in a brown -study. If she told it might get Lalla and Abner into all kinds of -trouble. Perhaps they would even have the debate all over again with a -new subject, or Abner might have to give up the medal in disgrace. There -were so many terrible possibilities, Gincy slept little that night. -Early the next morning she arose fully decided on a course of action. -Miss Howard should settle it; she could hardly wait to find her. - -The little teacher listened patiently. “I’ll tell you this evening. -Come to my room at half-past seven; meanwhile don’t worry.” - -Somewhat comforted, Gincy went about her work. Promptly at seven she -presented herself at Miss Howard’s door. “I just couldn’t wait another -minute,” she said by way of apology. - -“You don’t need to,” was the assurance. “It’s all right. Professor Ames -says the decision might not have been unanimous, but Abner would have -received the medal anyhow on his main argument. It isn’t necessary that -anything be said about it except to Lalla. We want her to cultivate -higher ideas of honour than those she has been used to at home.” - -Gincy left the room jubilant; a great burden had rolled off her mind. -She could go to bed with a clear conscience and make up the sleep she had -lost the night before. - - - - -XVII -KID SHACKLEY GETS A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD - - -THE Shackley cabin stood high and dry above the bed of Goose Creek; for, -while there was nothing to fear from the narrow, trickling stream of -summer, the moody, tempestuous torrent of spring threatened everything -within reach, and Enoch Shackley was a cautious man. - -It was ten o’clock, but the flickering of flambeaux, the sound of -hurrying feet over the bare floor of the long living-room, the uneasy -tugging of old Bob at his chain, and a saddled mule in front of the door, -indicated some unusual nocturnal adventure. - -Presently, far in the distance could be heard the creak of a jolt wagon -and the sound of voices singing “Sourwood Mountain.” - -The cabin door suddenly flew open and Kid Shackley appeared. He was a -chunky, muscular boy, a worthy successor of his father, when the -blacksmith should grow too old to follow his trade. “They’re comin’, -mammy! Good-bye, I’ll tell you and pappy all ’bout hit when I git back. -Looks like a feller kin hear ter Kingdom Come in the night time.” - -His place in the doorway was filled by a tall, gaunt figure in a meagre -dress of blue calico, who peered out anxiously after him. “Ain’t ye -hongry, son? Whar d’ye reckon ye’ll git yore breakfast?” - -“Sam Gooch ’lows we’ll be at Redbird somewhar near the Twilligers—Eli’s -kin. Likely they’ll want ter go on ’count of Piny. We’ll get ter the -Branch ’bout sun-up.” - -Kid was in the saddle now, facing the newcomers. The jolt wagon with its -oxen threading along the stony bed of Goose Creek—a lantern hung in front -of the driver—cast long shadows which seemed to multiply like those of a -mysterious moving caravan. They filled the gorge. - -“G’lang, Billy,” and Kid was slowly descending the steep incline to join -the travellers who suddenly halted. - -“Come on, come on!” chorused the voices from below. - -Kid greeted the half-dozen occupants of the wagon in true mountain -fashion. “Howdy, Dan Gooch,” to the man guiding the oxen, “you’re here -on time. I heerd our rooster speakin’ up a spell back. He reckoned -’twas mornin’ by the clatter.” - -“He’d better watch out or Brer Fox’ll get him. Them pesky varmints tuk -nigh onto twenty little uns fer us last night. G’lang, Bright!” and the -cracking whip and groaning wagon drowned the greetings of the others. - -Kid fell in behind. There was no possible chance for conversation, so -they sang old English ballads, and “The Old Time Religion,” which Talitha -had taught them. As they rode along in the damp coolness, Kid watched -the lumbering wagon ahead, full of indistinct figures, with a curious -feeling of something new and strange about to enter his life. - -Right and left, the great pine-covered mountains both guarded and -threatened with their looming shapes. The highest part of the creek bed -made the only passable wagon road, and that was poor enough. The air was -full of moist odours, and above, the deep blue dome was pierced with -twinkling points of light. - -The night wore on until the twinkling lights were lost, and a greyness -settled over the mountain world. They were travelling northwest, leaving -range after range of the Cumberlands, broken only by the deep gorge of a -river bed, behind them. Ahead, were the foothills, and beyond, Kid had -never seen. He only knew from the glowing accounts of Pete, and Isaac, -and Talitha—who had made him promise to come to Bentville—that the Blue -Grass in all its richness lay very near the college. - -Leaving the river bed they struck a mountain road which led, at long -intervals, past lonely, unpainted cabins more humble than those in the -small settlement at Goose Creek. Early as it was, people were astir, -noisily harnessing their mules, or yoking oxen. Here and there a jaded -saddle-horse or spirited colt was being pressed into service. They were -all bound for the same place. - -“Hit’s like a circus, er buryin’, er baptizin’—” and here words failed -him. But he remembered Talitha’s description, and tried to imagine how -it would seem to see thousands of people on one level, wooded space. - -They had stopped singing now. A faint, rosy glow was spreading above the -mountains back of them, and glimpses of a great rolling valley came from -the front. The road ran steeply down, causing the occupants of the wagon -to sway in their chairs. Dan Gooch plied the brake, vociferating to his -oxen: “Hi thar, Bright! Steady, Star! See, yon’s Redbird!” - -Sam Coyle straightened an inert figure. He had been half dozing, -conscious of little except his broken rest. His journey to Bentville was -prompted by a curiosity which had been growing ever since Abner had won -the medal. There was a little pricking below the jealousy in his heart -when he thought what a “sorry” father he had been. Dan Gooch was growing -more enthusiastic every day over “larnin’.” Sam wondered if it were too -late—here he glanced at his wife’s worn but radiant face. She was -looking in the direction of Redbird, but he knew that her heart was going -out to Martin and Talitha in Bentville, and that she had nothing to -regret. - -Billy and Sudie grew more excited each moment. “I’m that hongry I could -eat a bear; I hope they’ll have one fer breakfast!” exclaimed the former. - -“More like it’ll be a chicken,” laughed Kid as he guided Nick nearer the -wagon. “I saw Zeb Twilliger in the hen yard a minute ago.” - -A lank, high cheek-boned mountaineer came slouching toward the gate as -they drove up. “Light and hitch,” he commanded hospitably. “I reckon -yo’re bound fer Bentville. Piny’s been pesterin’ the life out o’ us ter -come; she sent word agin this week, an’ I ’low ef she’s honin’ fer us, -we’d shore ought ter go.” - -“That’s what I told pappy,” interrupted Kid eagerly. “He and mammy bide -in the Hollow till they’re fair mossy. Pete and Ike’ll come back plumb -shamed of we-uns.” And then the boy flushed at what the words implied. - -Sam Coyle failed to make his usual sarcastic retort to the thrust at -Goose Creek. Indeed he was quite amiable to Kid on their way up to the -door of the rather untidy looking cabin. There was plenty of bacon and -cornbread, with coffee and fresh buttermilk for breakfast. The chickens -were for their dinner and had been cooked the day before. “I never count -on eatin’ chicken till I get a holt of the drumstick,” whispered Billy to -Kid, rolling his eyes. - -Mrs. Twilliger was large and loud-voiced. The older children had all -married and left home except Piny. “We’d planned ter keep her fer a -spell yit, but I don’t reckon nothin’ ever’ll suit her ’round here now -she’s taken ter schoolin’; she air a queer gal.” - -“I wouldn’t let hit fret me,” said Mrs. Gooch with unexpected spirit, -“the mountings air needin’ a few idees; I’m glad Gincy’s gittin’ ’em. -I’m plumb wore out with the old ones. She and Tally’d much better be -larnin’ out o’ books than marryin’ some no ’count chap thet goes r’arin’ -’round, shootin’ up things ginerally.” - -Mrs. Twilliger bristled up instantly; the description fitted her eldest -son-in-law too closely for her liking. However, Mrs. Gooch had an -unexpected ally in the master of the house. “Thet’s my idee; Piny’s -harum-scarum ’nough without gittin’ in with these chaps ’round yere. We -hev ’nough o’ them fellers in the fambly a’ready.” - -Breakfast over, every one hurried to get a good start for the last part -of the journey to Bentville. The Twilliger outfit was a span of fat -mules and a light wagon. They took the lead, and the oxen were soon far -behind. - -“You’d better push on, Kid,” advised Dan Gooch as the oxen toiled up the -last foothill before reaching the valley. “Yon’s Bentville—almost in -sight. Zeb Twilliger will be thar an hour ahead of us. Nick hez sperit -’nough ter ketch up ter ’em stid of pokin’ ’long so powerful slow.” - -Kid took the advice. As he reached the top of the hill, he reined Nick -in for a moment to look at the panorama of colour which spread below him. -There were fields of corn and hemp threaded with a narrow, silver path of -water. Beyond the valley, on a little plateau, was the white tower of a -chapel. The trees were thick, but they could not entirely screen the -angular outlines of the college buildings occupying the highest part of -the little town. - -The boy’s heart beat fast. He had never been more than ten miles away -from home in all his life before. Somehow the blacksmith’s trade did not -seem so alluring as it had yesterday; perhaps Pete and Isaac were right -after all. He was proud of them anyhow. - -Down, down toward the bridge which crossed Brushy Fork and the Big Hill -Pike with the hard part of the journey behind him, Kid overtook the -Twilligers. He exchanged a few remarks, then cantered past, and joined -the long procession of vehicles and horsemen, all headed in the same -direction. This beat a circus, it beat Talitha’s description carefully -recalled from last year. - -Kid was beginning to get excited. He passed team after team with a -cheery hail, and forged straight up the hill. Nick did not need to be -urged; he galloped directly into the crowd, and then past, only slowing -down on the main street for Kid to gaze with fascinated eyes at the -booths of popcorn, candy, peanuts, and ice cream. Everywhere were -students spreading their wares in tempting proximity to the passersby. -On all sides signs read: “This Way to the Campus.” “Visit the Chapel -Tower.” “See the Industrial Building.” “Don’t Miss the Homespun Fair!” - -Kid looked at everything with eager eyes. How could he ever see it all -in a day! So far there were no familiar faces. Nick plodded along in -the jam of teams quite subdued. There were lean, spiritless nags drawing -“sorry” buggies, jolt wagons and oxen, mules and more mules. Kid watched -them all—the black sunbonnets, the over-trimmed hats, the attractive -young faces and those lacking purpose. Where were Martin, and Abner, and -the rest? He looked up at the big boarding hall set back in a yard full -of trees. A throng was pouring out of the side entrance. They were -singing a rollicking class song which appealed to Kid’s music-loving -heart. As they came toward him he saw Martin and Isaac leading the -crowd. - -Almost at the same instant they discovered him and made a rush forward. -“Hello, Kid, you’re just in time; we’re going over to the Tabernacle this -minute!” exclaimed Isaac. - -“Didn’t any one else come?” asked Martin. - -“You’ll see later,” Kid assured him with a grin, “but what’ll I do with -Nick?” - -They led him into a long, roped driveway which crossed a little rustic -bridge. There, in the wooded part of the campus, were hundreds of teams -hitched to the trees or eating from the backs of wagons. In a bag thrown -across the saddle, Kid had brought feed for the mule. “Here’s a good -place, it’s near the road and shady, too,” said Isaac. “We’ll come back -after a while and find the rest of the folks. Now let’s hurry.” - -The three boys started toward a huge, unpainted building with a large -sign across the front, “The Tabernacle,” it read. People were standing -near the two large entrances which were closed. “We’ll go around; I know -the way,” said Martin. There were several doors securely locked, but one -was ajar. The three slipped in. The room was full of piney odours from -the banked-up platform. High up behind the seats for the graduates a -dozen or more boys and girls were fastening festoons of flowers above a -solid wall of green. Kid had never seen anything of the kind before. He -stared at the sawdust on the floor which muffled their footsteps, at the -semi-circle of raised seats which were soon to be filled with mountain -people, then back again to the hurrying boys and girls in front. - -“If there isn’t Kid Shockley!” It was Abner’s voice. - -“Why, hello!” called Pete, turning suddenly. “Where are the rest of the -folks?” - -“Come up here, Kid,” called out Talitha. “Here’s Gincy and Mallie and -all of the girls.” - -In a moment Kid felt as though he had been in Bentville a week. He was -hailed cordially by all of the Goose Creek people and immediately set to -work breaking branches for trimming, and hanging banners under the -direction of Lalla. “We’ve got to be awfully quiet,” she whispered. -“It’s only a half-hour before the doors are opened and two of the -graduates have to rehearse yet.” - -From his vantage ground above, Kid looked down at the critics on the -front seat and the tall, dark young man who had begun to speak. What a -contrast the clear, ringing tones were to those of the mountain orators -he had heard. For a moment he almost forgot to help Lalla and stood, his -arms full of pine branches, listening intently to the oration. - -“Hurry, Kid,” reminded Lalla. “We’ve got to drag this litter out and -just rush over to the chapel to see them form in line; there isn’t a -minute to spare.” - -The musical peal of a bell and the rat-tat-tat of a drum decided the -matter. In less than five minutes the two were crossing the campus in -the rear of a number of stragglers who were hurrying to see the long -procession begin its march. - - - - -XVIII -COMMENCEMENT TIME AT BENTVILLE - - -TALITHA, from her room in the hall, saw the oxen toiling up the hill just -as the chapel bell was ringing. She had rushed over from the Tabernacle -to dress and get back before the lines were formed. In fifteen minutes -the bell would begin to toll and the procession start. Her father and -mother must not miss it. She opened the door and sped down the corridor -to Gincy’s room. - -“Girls,” she called out, pounding on the door insistently, “the folks are -almost here. Can’t one of you go down and bring them up to my room—your -mother and my mother, Gincy? The rest can go on; you can tell them where -to hitch.” - -Gincy needed no second bidding; she fairly flew downstairs and out of -doors. At the side gate she stood for a moment and peered into the faces -of the crowd. Presently she spied the objects of her search. The big -red ox and the one with the white star on his forehead were coming her -way. Sudie and Billy waved their hands, her father smiled, and Sam -Coyle’s indolent figure seemed to grow in stature. Only the two -sunbonneted women on the back seat appeared quiet and indifferent, but -Gincy knew that inwardly they were far from it. - -“Talitha saw you from her room,” she said after the first greeting. -“Jump right out and we’ll go up there; she’s rushing to get ready for the -exercises and there are only a few minutes left.” - -Gincy hurried them through the crowd and into the dormitory hall, which -was alive with girls greeting friends and showing them around through the -various rooms. Her mother and Mrs. Coyle were allowed one peep into the -office of the dean, and the big east parlour with its Colonial furniture -and handsome pictures—gifts from wealthy New England people—then they -were whisked upstairs and into Number 45 to receive a warm greeting from -Talitha. - -“How do you like it?” she asked, seating them near the open windows. -“You can look all around while Gincy’s hooking my dress.” Below, were -the long, well-watered rows of the college garden—a wonderful sight to -eyes accustomed to the small, dried-up mountain patch of vegetables. - -“’Tis a sightly place,” remarked Mrs. Gooch, her face alive with -interest. - -Mrs. Coyle nodded. “And fraish air kin pass through ter let out all the -odours,” her mind evidently intent on the airy location of the room. -Then she glanced at the white tucked dress lying on the lower berth of -the double-decker. - -Her daughter followed the gaze. “Look at Gincy’s; hers has more tucks.” -Talitha slipped the princess gown over her head, all the while smiling -delightedly at the amazement in the faces of her guests. - -They plied her with questions. How did she get in all those little -pleats? Who helped her cut and fit it? Couldn’t they visit the -sewing-room? To which Talitha responded as eagerly. “There, I’m almost -ready; we’ll go on the first stroke of the last bell. After the -exercises we’ll have dinner, and then I’m bound to show you everything on -the grounds.” - -“Look out of this window,” said Gincy, pointing to a stretch of trailing -plants on the south side of the house. “Strawberries! Aren’t they -splendid? Father’s got to have some just like them.” - -“Abner and Martin have learned a lot about horticulture; they’ll tend to -things,” said Talitha, noticing the look on her mother’s face which -seemed to say as plainly as words: “Your father wouldn’t find time for -anything of the kind.” - -At the first stroke of the last bell, the four descended the stairs and -followed the crowd going in the direction of the Tabernacle. The college -band in bright, new uniforms, was playing a lively air near the chapel -door. From every direction the people streamed toward it. A long line -of the faculty and college graduates was being rapidly formed; each of -the latter wearing a band of purple and gold around the left arm. For -the most part they were simply dressed, but in their bearing one could -detect a vast difference from the raw material that had flocked in to -Commencement. - -The little group from back in the hills was only one of many who looked -with proud, expectant eyes toward the future. It would be a great day -when one of their number stood in that long line waiting for the honours -which were to crown faithful endeavour. Talitha was glad to discover her -father looking with pleased interest at the young faces so full of -promise. Her one desire had been to make him see the difference between -those who had had advantages, and the boys and girls, who, without -education, were living dull, cramped lives in the mountains. - -Suddenly the lively air changed, and a hundred young voices took up the -refrain: “We march, we march, to victory—” - -Mrs. Coyle’s eyes filled as the ranks went sweeping by. She could hardly -see to follow them, but Talitha’s strong arm supported her, and, heading -the folks from Goose Creek, they filed into the Tabernacle and sat down -with the great crowd who had already assembled. - -A great hush followed the prayer. Gincy watched her father and mother -keenly as the Hallelujah Chorus pealed forth; then she gave Talitha one -quick, triumphant glance. Their faces were full of wonder and pleasure, -and Sam Coyle’s stolid countenance wore a look of startled interest, the -like of which she had never seen before. - -One by one the graduates took their places for the brief time allotted -them. They spoke in loud, clear voices, but Sam Coyle seemed hardly to -understand, until a dark-haired girl began about “The Land of -Appalachia.” She gave the history of the mountain people, how, shut back -in the hills, they were behind the rest of the world. What wonderful -resources were right at hand if they would only wake up and use them. -How education meant changing the home life and giving more to the girls -and boys which would end in a better life for the parents. - -The hungry look on Mrs. Coyle’s face fairly devoured the speaker. -Already she was reaping her reward, and visions of Goose Creek, alive to -its sore need of an education, blotted out the great audience around her. -She sat almost motionless throughout the exercises. Children cried, -people came and went, the band played “Dixie”; it was greeted noisily. -It played again. This time it was “America,” and a flutter of white -handkerchiefs came from where the teachers sat; then they arose, and -somehow in a minute the crowd from Goose Creek found themselves standing, -too. Mrs. Coyle’s eyes were moist, and Dan Gooch swallowed a troublesome -lump in his throat. Billy and Sudie looked awed and timid, yet they -quivered with delight, and Gincy, her arms resting lightly upon their -shoulders, felt the quiver and held them closer. - -The crowd poured out and melted into groups which gathered around -well-filled baskets, or ate sandwiches, and bananas, and drank lemonade -at the big stand near the library. “If we could only invite you over to -the Hall,” said Gincy regretfully. “We tried to get you in, but Miss -Denman says she can hardly find room for the company at the two new -tables. Commencement is a great day.” - -“I reckon we can do what most of the strangers air doin’—eat our own -vittles; they’ll be plumb spoiled if we don’t,” said Dan Gooch with mock -severity. “Come on, chil’ren,” to Billy and Sudie. - -“Hit beats anythin’ I ever saw!” exclaimed Sam Coyle, ignoring his -neighbour’s last remark. “I didn’t hone ter come—at fust—that crap in -the south cove needs a powerful lot o’ tendin’, but I ’lowed ’twould be a -pritty day, an’ Tally’d feel mightily disapinted if I didn’t.” - -“Of course I would, father,” said Talitha, her eyes fixed on her mother’s -face. “You’ll not be sorry you came, either, there’s so much to see -after dinner.” And she started off arm in arm with Gincy, too happy over -her mother’s evident pleasure and her father’s sudden interest to think -of that old excuse—the neglected “crap” in the south cove. - -“Hold on,” called Talitha as Kid Shackley came within hailing distance. -“Having a good time?” - -“You bet!” was the emphatic response. “I’ve cut loose and am doin’ hit -by myself. Seen the folks? They have the stuff to eat.” - -Talitha pointed back to the throng under the oak trees. “They’ve just -gone. You’ll catch them before they get fairly started eating if you -hurry.” - -“Oh, Tally,” said Gincy as Kid dodged from view behind the crowd of -vehicles, his boyish head held high, “isn’t Commencement just grand! I’m -so happy over everything—Abner’s new suit, and the folks coming, -and—honey, your daddy thinks Bentville is all right; he’ll never say -another word against it, I know.” - -Talitha nodded. Her face was radiant and she squeezed Gincy’s hand. -“And there’s Kid, he acts so different; just wild over everything here. -I’m sure he’ll be in school next year, too. That’s the five-minute bell -now; we’ll have to eat fast and get back. I’m just crazy to see father’s -face when he gets into the Industrial Building.” - -“And mother’s when she sees the Homespun Fair; she’ll go wild over the -rugs, I’m sure.” - -Back under the trees groups of people were refreshing themselves. The -sun flecked the broad backs of the oxen feeding from the rear end of the -jolt wagons. The mules were sleepily warding off the flies. A few -horses stamped restlessly. And on each side of the driveway was a mass -of life and colour enveloped in the fragrant air of June. Under its -dominating spell, the Goose Creek folks sat until the mass of humanity -began to move; only the babies slept, guarded by their mothers. - -As though suddenly roused to action, the young people began to walk back -and forth through the wooded space, some aimlessly, others with a -definite objective point in view. From the chapel tower, the group from -Goose Creek could hear a voice inviting everybody to come up and see the -surrounding country. - -“That’s Martin,” said Kid. “He’s got what he names a megaphone. I’d -call hit a horn-a whopper. You kin hear hit a mile, I’ll bet; I’m goin’ -up after a spell ter he’p him out—thar come the gals.” - -“They’re just pouring into the Homespun Fair,” said Gincy, coming up -breathless. “We’ve almost run so you wouldn’t get crowded out entirely. -Sudie and Billy’d better come with me and get some lemonade at the stand; -Talitha’s waiting over there for the rest of you.” - -“I’d like ter see some kiverlids thet can beat mammy’s,” said Dan Gooch -as they walked briskly along in the direction indicated by Gincy. - -“I don’t reckon as how you will,” responded his wife. “She was hard ter -beat.” - -They turned into the arched entrance of a big, brick building and elbowed -through the crowd toward a large room indicated by the guides. Once -inside, Mrs. Coyle drew a quick breath of pleased astonishment. Long -tables down the centre of the room were covered with linen squares of -familiar patterns. There were also rugs and draperies, and innumerable -articles of unique home workmanship. The walls were hung with -“kiverlids” and quilts of brilliant patterns. The Rising Sun, Indian -Feather, Fruit Basket, and many others showed to the best advantage in -the well-lighted place. - -Sam Coyle found his way to a table covered with splint baskets. “Look -here,” he said, beckoning to Talitha and pointing to the price-mark on a -medium sized one. “Seventy-five cents is a heap of money fer thet; I -reckon they won’t sell nary a one.” - -But Sam Coyle reckoned in vain, for Talitha showed him the little tag -marked “Sold” tied to the opposite side of the handle; her eyes sparkling -at his look of amazement. “I used ter make toler’ble fair ones myself, -years back,” he said, examining it carefully. - -Mrs. Gooch dropped into a splint-bottomed rocker in front of a gorgeous -red and green quilt. She was studying the price-mark and the pattern. -Ten dollars seemed an immense amount of money to pay for it. She -beckoned to Mrs. Coyle, who was fingering the linen. “What d’ye think o’ -thet?” she asked. - -Her neighbour stepped back slowly, viewing the quilt from all points of -vantage. “Yourn is a heap purtier, but this hez more fine stitches,” she -remarked at last judicially. - -“Mebbe hit hez, but hit tuk more fine pieces fer ourn, an’ I’d be proud -ter git half as much.” Mrs. Gooch was thinking of Sudie and Billy, who -would soon be ready for Bentville. Here was an unexpected source of -revenue. - -One by one Mrs. Coyle examined the squares of linen with a triumphant -feeling. All day her heart had been sinking at the thought of her -ignorance. She had been bewildered and overwhelmed by this new world of -opportunity and knowledge. Now she experienced a quick return of -self-respect as she heard well-dressed visitors exclaim in admiration, -and saw the ready sale of the linen. She not only knew the patterns, but -had worked out some original designs of her own. Here was surely a way -to earn more money. - -It was fully twenty minutes later when Gincy came panting in without -Sudie and Billy. “They’ve found Pete and Isaac,” she announced, “and -they’re going to the top of the tower. They’ll meet us somewhere near -the Industrial Building. Come on.” - -It was only a short distance, but every step was blocked by groups of -visitors, lemonade stands, amateur photographers, venders of patent -medicines. A wrinkled, toothless old woman sat close to the path smoking -her pipe. She wore a black calico dress and sunbonnet, and black wool -mitts. Gincy drew a long breath and thought, for the first time in her -life, what it meant to grow old like that. - -“Here we are! There’s an awful crowd, but we’ll manage to see things -somehow.” People were pushing their way into the long building and -filling the rooms on either side of the hall. “Let’s show them the -cooking first,” said Talitha as Gincy started for the sewing department. - -Mrs. Coyle edged her way to the glass cases in the centre of the room. -They were filled with all kinds of eatables—salads, delicious looking -rolls, pies, puddings, and chicken done to a turn. It took some time to -convince her that everything was cooked in those queer-looking boxes. -“Fireless cookers!” she exclaimed incredulously. “It do beat everythin’, -Tally, how they do things here.” - -“I can make one for you, mother, if Martin can’t find time; it may not -look just like the ones here, but it will work splendidly, I know.” - -“Shore?” asked her mother doubtfully. “I’d be proud ter hev one.” - -The men folks seemed equally interested. They gazed at the canned fruit -in the open cupboards, at the model table set for four, and were quite -unwilling to leave when the boys came to take them to the Sloyd room. - -The hall upstairs was crowded, there were so many things to see in the -different rooms. Mrs. Gooch kept an eye out for Billy and Sudie, who had -not put in an appearance. - -“They’ll be in the Sloyd room, I know,” Talitha assured her. “The -Shackley boys fairly live there; Abner and Martin wouldn’t be much better -if they weren’t taking extra studies.” - -The crowd in the room was beginning to thin a little. A few were still -buying bookracks, paper knives, and other small things which were for -sale. - -Sam Coyle could hardly believe that the students had made everything on -exhibition. He halted in front of a big, leather-covered chair. “Look -here, you-all,” he said, sinking down with characteristic indolence. -“Hit sets powerful easy, too. Thet’s what I’d hone ter do if I war -young; we wouldn’t live like we do now, but thet’s plumb past mendin’.” - -“No, it isn’t, father, if you’ll let Martin help you,” Talitha answered -decidedly. “I always knew you were handy with tools, and we’re going to -have some—there’s Sudie now, Mrs. Gooch; they’re all over behind that -stack of things in the corner. Come on.” - -“Look, mammy!” announced Billy as he pointed to a small oak table, -polished to an astonishing perfection. “Abner did hit, and here’s -somethin’ else,” dragging her farther along toward a wide, hanging shelf. -“Hit’s fer books, and I’m ter have one eend.” He fairly danced with -happiness, and Mrs. Gooch turned to her husband and son a face full of -pride. Not one sacrifice which she had made for her children seemed -worth remembering now. - -It was Mrs. Coyle’s turn for self-gratification when Martin showed her -his book-case and seat which were to be carried home in the jolt wagon. -“I’ve some books to put into it, too. Professor Johns is going to let me -take charge of the travelling library in a week or two, then we’ll have -some good times at Goose Creek. Nights, after supper is over, we’ll take -turns reading. Tally and I have it all planned out.” - -The Shackley boys were not to be outdone by Martin and Abner. They -showed their planting pins, clock case, and umbrella rack with much -pride. Kid examined everything carefully for the fourth or fifth time. -“I’m comin’ ter Bentville next year,” he announced decidedly. “I’m goin’ -ter work in the wood-working department; they want more boys.” - -Dan Gooch patted the broad back. “See you do, son. Your pappy kin git -plenty of husky fellers fer blacksmithin’ ’thout usin’ brains, and you’ve -got ’em.” Kid blushed and eyed Sam Coyle furtively, waiting for the -accustomed gibes, but they did not come. The latter individual was -apparently engrossed in a mental estimation of the height of the huge -standpipe in plain sight of the back windows. - -“If thar ain’t the Twilligers!” he said, looking around suddenly. “I’d -an idee they’d drapped off’n the fur aidge of the yarth ’fore this, and -had a notion ter begin sarchin’ fer ’em.” - -Piny, radiant in a new pink lawn, with her father and mother in tow, bore -directly down upon them. - -“Here you are!” she exclaimed. “I reckoned the boys had tolled you over -this way for the wind-up. Look here, pappy, what do you think of this, -and this?” pointing to the various pieces of furniture. - -Zeb Twilliger stared open-mouthed to the unconcealed delight of the young -folks. It took some time to convince him and his wife that the boys had -really done the work. “Wal, wal, I swan!” he ejaculated at last, peering -down at each article critically. - -“Ye’d better give ’em a lift gittin’ hit home,” suggested Mrs. Twilliger -generously, and Zeb agreed. - -A white cloud of dust hovered over the long procession which filed -homeward, back to the hills. Talitha waved good-bye as, one by one, the -college buildings were lost to sight, and Kid—with Abner behind him in -the saddle—voiced the general sentiment of the crowd when he turned to -shout cheerily: - -“Hurrah fer Bentville and the Goose Creek folks who’ll be thar next -year!” - - * * * * * - - PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOOSE CREEK FOLKS*** - - -******* This file should be named 62497-0.txt or 62497-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/2/4/9/62497 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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