Tess of the Storm Country Part 7

"A gamekeeper," filled in Tess.

The witch wobbled her head in a.s.sent, as Tessibel leaned over to follow the long finger defining the shadow.

"There air a shanty," Mother Moll went on, "a child alone, and dead things layin' about and there air a--a--"

The two heads were now bent directly over the pot. Tess caught her breath in a sob. Was Daddy Skinner coming back to the shanty? The dragon blood sputtered, boiling higher and higher, over the heat of the fire, as the witch dug it upward from the bottom of the kettle.

"A prison cell and a man," ended Moll.

"Be there humps?" gasped Tess.

An acquiescent nod came from the gray-grizzled head. Tessibel wound her fingers about the arm-bone of the hag.

"Air there a cross with a Christ hangin' on it?"

The witch looked deeper into the dark mixture, her eyes squinting to narrow slits, and Tess continued:

"A hangin' Christ that air hurt, and be there thorns a-diggin' in Him?"

Deeper and deeper into the sizzling pot stared the faded blue eyes of the hag, the dark wide-spread ones of the girl following every movement of Ma Moll's hand.

"Aye, there air a cross for ye, brat, to carry on yer back--"

"Air there no Christ a bearin' one for Daddy?"

Suddenly the door burst open, and the raging wind flickered out the candle. It had been so sudden that Tess screamed, and the witch muttered a curse. The rain tore its way through the small dirty room; the bats loosened their hold upon the wooden rafters and circled the darkness, first into the open, then into the room--against and away from Tessibel's face, until the girl broke into wild weeping.

Ma Moll had failed to find the cross. The wind forcing the door bespoke evil for Daddy. Without the student's Christ how could she save him?

"Go home, brat," ordered the hag. "Go home, there air a cross with a Christ hangin' to it, and there were a dead man without humps."

Out into the rain the sound of the hag's words ringing in her ears, the whizzing bats for the first time filling her with a strange mysterious fear, Tessibel went. She turned into the dark forest of which she was not afraid, and crossing the gorges again, sought the upper hill which led to the tracks.

CHAPTER VIII

Elias Graves was pastor of one of the largest churches in Ithaca. His family consisted of his wife, his son Frederick, and his daughter Teola, a girl of sixteen, and little Babe, the spoiled pet of the family.

Besides a beautiful town rectory, he owned the lake farm and held the t.i.tle to the small piece of property upon which Orn Skinner squatted.

That the hut and its filth injured his own magnificent cottage no one denied.

It was true he only spent ten or twelve weeks of the summer in the lake house, but every man desired his own. For several years there had been a continual fight between the pastor and the fisherman--Orn Skinner answering the minister with the squatter law of the state which gave him the use of the few feet of ground upon which his shanty stood.

Still the Dominie insisted that some day he would rid his summer home of the pest and the time had come.

After leaving Tessibel he walked up the long lane leaning on the arm of his son, sputtering against his enemies.

"The very idea of that malicious brat jumping upon me as she did. She ought to have a sound whipping."

Frederick s.h.i.+vered slightly. His heart was full of sympathy for the primitive girl who had so devotedly loved her toad.

"We would be rid of the whole family if we could get that girl away,"

went on his father, "then I could file a request to take what belongs to me. Hall said only to-night that he would like to see all the squatters gone. We've decided to make a move."

Frederick tried to make a small complaint, but the minister commanded him to silence.

"Get rid of them I will, do you hear?" he shouted, "they have no moral right there whatever the law says. Get rid of them, I will."

When the Dominie reiterated strongly his whole family remained silent, and this time Frederick dared pa.s.s no remark. He wondered if it were not for just such people as the Skinners that the Christ had suffered. He felt an incentive rising in his heart to seek guidance from the Book, for although Frederick Graves greatly reverenced his father he would not give up his own opinions without a struggle.

"I've got this Skinner just where I want him after all these years,"

hurled forth the minister, as they pa.s.sed the pear orchard, and then added:

"But I don't understand how you came to be in the hut."

"I heard the girl crying," replied Frederick curtly.

"I missed you when we left Hall's," explained the Dominie. "Charlie called me back to ask about the plans for the new church, and if I had not whistled just when I did, you might have been in that hut still, I suppose."

Frederick found himself wis.h.i.+ng that his father had not whistled, his mind going back to the girl in the shanty, whom he had left with her living grief--and her dead.

He saw his sister, Teola, standing on the broad porch waiting for them.

The girl scented something unusual in the angry tones of her father's voice. She followed Frederick alone into the library which looked out upon Tessibel's hut.

"What's the matter?"

Frederick shrugged his shoulders impatiently.

"Nothing much."

The brother and sister had grown into a confidential friends.h.i.+p during the past two years. Teola's face dropped as she heard Frederick's halting answer.

"I know better," she retorted decidedly. "You have been having words with father."

"No, not words," replied the boy, "but you see father thinks that no one can have any ideas but himself. It sort of makes me tired, for sometimes I know when a thing is right or wrong."

"What was the matter?" insisted Teola once more.

"The Skinners," replied Frederick slowly.

"You mean the squatters?"

"Yes."

"Aren't they alright where they are?" hesitated Teola.

"Skinner killed the gamekeeper to-night, and the girl is alone in the shanty. Father doesn't seem to realize that they have souls to be saved as well as the rest of the world."