A Pagan of the Hills Part 27

Had Jerry known it, he was at that moment nearer to stirring the girl in the way that Halloway had stirred her, than he had ever been before, but her reply came in a grave and low-pitched voice.

"I hain't ter be won by no battle, Jerry."

"No, o'course not." He had brought himself back with an effort to a quieter mood and he even sought valiantly to muster the twinkle into his eyes and the whimsical note into his tone as he said:

"But atter all, I'm a right easy sort of feller ter git along with, an'

I mout be kinderly handy eround ther house. These masterful husbands sometimes don't w'ar so well. Hit's like havin' ter live with a king, I reckon."

Now, it was the woman who insisted on gravity. "Look at me, Jerry,"

she commanded and their glances held level as she went on in deep earnestness.

"I'd hate fer ther two of ye ter think thet I'm playin' fast an' loose with ye. I'd hate ter think hit myself. Hit hain't thet--I was raised up a boy--I thought I'd always stay thet-a-way. Then I found I couldn't."

"Yes, I knows thet, Alexander. Thar hain't no censure fer ye es ter thet."

"Mebby thar ought ter be though. But ye sees. .h.i.t's kinderly like I was livin' in a new world--an' I don't know hit well yit. I've got ter go slow. I hain't made up my mind an' then changed hit--I hain't blowed hot an' cold. Hit's jest thet I hain't been able ter come ter no conclusion one way ner t'other."

She had spoken with a defensive tone, one hardly certain, but as she finished a prideful note crept into her voice. "But when I does decide, I decides fer all time an' ther man I weds with kin trust me."

CHAPTER XVIII

Jerry bade Alexander farewell after depositing her parcel by the threadbare seat of the battered day coach which was to carry her to Perry Center, but as he said good-by, he was, for once, acting without candor. He meant to go to Perry Center too, but being called by no business, except to follow her, he thought it wiser to make no announcement of his intention. When the engine wheezed and groaned to its start. Jerry swung himself into the baggage compartment, and after the elapse of a safe interval presented himself, grinning, in the day coach.

The girl pretended indignation, but her wrath was neither convincing nor terrifying. After a s.p.a.ce she inquired, "Jerry, does ye know whar Jack Halloway come from afore he struck this section?"

O'Keefe shook his head. "I don't jedgmatically know what creek he was borned on, ef thet's what ye means, but I reckon hit warn't so fur away."

Her eyes narrowed a trifle. "Does ye even know--fer sure--thet he's a mountain man?"

Jerry laughed. "I hain't nuver heered tell of no man thet war raised up in the settlemints claimin' ter be a benighted boomer," he answered.

"Hit's right apt ter be ther other way 'round." He paused, then judicially added: "When a man's co'tin a gal, he gin'rally seeks ter put hisself in ther best light he kin--not ther wust."

"Yes, thet sounds right reasonable," she admitted.

"What made ye ask, Alexander?"

After a dubious pause, she spoke hesitantly, "I jest fell ter studyin'

erbout hit. Ef I tells ye, ye mustn't never name ther matter--ter n.o.body."

"I gives ye my hand on thet."

"Wa'al, Mr. Brent told me afore he left, thet ef I ever needed counsel I should write ter him. When Jack went away, I writ--an' yestiddy I got an answer back. My letter ter Mr. Brent asked ther same question thet I jest put up ter _you_."

"What did Brent say?"

She was looking out of the car window with eyes that were serious and preoccupied.

"He said he knowed all erbout him--but thet a question like thet ought rightfully ter be put ter a man fust-handed. He bade me ask Jack myself when he come back--but he pledged hisself ter answer all my questions ef Jack should happen ter refuse, atter he'd hed one chanst."

The gray-blue eyes narrowed for a moment, then O'Keefe inquired, "Does. .h.i.t makes any great differ whar a man was borned at?"

"Mebby not. I just fell ter wonderin'."

"Does ye want my fam'ly Bible ter look me up in?" demanded Jerry and the girl laughed.

But she did not tell Jerry what lay back of this whole discussion. She did not confide to him the mystery of a coat with a patched lining.

It had been a very old coat, though at one time, long ago, a good one, and already it had been patched and repatched. When Alexander had picked it up that night before Halloway's departure, as she struggled to keep her feet against the elemental surge of his whirlpool pa.s.sion, its inner breast pocket had spread a bit at the top, and her eyes had glimpsed a discolored tailor's label--bearing the words, "New York."

That had been the thing she needed: the floating spar to one who is drowning and it steadied her into instant resistance. She had gone to her own room and read there the full legend--almost obliterated by wear--almost, but not quite. Some letters and numbers were gone, but enough were left legible.

"Mr. J. C. Halloway," was written in ink with a number on Fifth Avenue, New York. Then there was the tailor's name and address--also on that main thoroughfare of Fas.h.i.+on.

c.u.mberland mountain loggers do not have their clothes hand tailored in Manhattan; and though the exact locality meant nothing to her, the town meant much.

The label was partly ripped away from the pocket, and the girl had snipped it loose altogether. Halloway had played a careful game. He had avoided carrying forwarded envelopes--he had held to the vernacular at times when sudden crisis threatened to drive him into forgetfulness.

He had overlooked only one possible precaution--that of ripping out the tailor's trademark from his coat.

"Yes, we're right proud of thet thar wheat elevator. We all went partners ter raise ther money fer rearin' hit," said Warwick McGivins, as he dismounted from his old pacing mare and pointed to a huge wooden building that stood at the edge of a bluff, from which one could drop a rock down a sheer hundred and fifty feet.

Alexander, his niece, and Jerry O'Keefe, following suit, slid from their saddles and the three walked through a wide gate, over a set of wagon scales and into the yard of the huge structure.

"Kinderly looks ter me like ye'd done deesigned hit fer a fort ter fight In'jins," suggested O'Keefe and the guide nodded his iron gray head. "Hit don't hurt none ter hev a house like thet solid-timbered,"

he a.s.serted. "When ther crop's in, thet buildin' holds erbout all ther wheat thet ther pa.s.sel of us fellers raises amongst us--an' we seeks ter hev hit held safe. Thar's some car-loads in thar right now, an'

thres.h.i.+n' time hain't nigh over yit."

Drawing a key from his pocket he took them into the small office, and showed them the s.p.a.ciously dimensioned interior. There were no windows save high overhead, and only two doors. One of these was a great sliding affair where the wagons backed up, and the other was small but equally solid. It was a huge box of heavy timber, most of it const.i.tuting the bin itself, but the old fellow showed it proudly--nor was his pride misplaced, for with this great cube of ma.s.sive timber, his neighbors had met and overcome a perplexing handicap of nature.

They climbed a ladder and looked down into the reservoir partly filled with golden grain, and Jerry, noticing a coil of rope hanging from an upright, inquired: "Did ye hev a lynchin' in hyar by way of house-warmin'?"

McGivins laughed, but his narrative had not yet come to uses of that rope, and he refused to be hurried.

"Ye sees," he zestfully enlightened, "we've got a sort of table land of wheat ground hyarabouts thet raises master crops--an' we've got a railroad runnin' right past our doors ter haul hit out ter ther world below."

"No wonder folks hyarabouts hes got prosperity," mused Alexander a little enviously, thinking of her rocky hillsides on Shoulder-blade.

"Yes, but ther road didn't do us no great lavish of good--'twell we deevised this hyar thing," her uncle reminded her. "Hit jest kinderly aggravated us. Ye see our fields lays on high ground an' ther railroad runs through a deep chasm. We kain't git down ter hit, nigh es. .h.i.t be, withouten we teams over slavish ways fer siv'ral steep miles. Now I'll tek ye down ther clift an' show ye what's down thar--an' how we licked thet mountain."

He led them out and down a narrow path, where they had to hold to branch and root until they reached the bottom of a deep ravine--and there one hundred and fifty feet lower was another huge bin, open at its top, and connected with the upper structure by an almost vertical chute.

So after all it was a piece of highly creditable engineering. It enabled the grower to weigh and store his product above, and then by opening the runway to deposit it at the rails. In only one respect would an engineer have quarreled with the arrangement. The long lever that loosened and held the flowing tide of grain operated from outside the upper building instead of from within.

"What's ter hinder a thief from comin' in ther night-time," demanded Jerry practically, "an' runnin' hisself out a wagon-load of thet thar stuff an' haulin' hit off?"