A Maid of the Kentucky Hills Part 26

Mrs. Toller relinquished her grasp on the stick, turned her back on the clothes, and folded her arms contentedly.

"They _air_ a likely look'n' set o' young-uns, since yo' 're kind 'nough to say so. Co'se it ain't fur me to brag, seein' 's I'm they mammy"--she could hardly speak that sentence because of the pride which tightened her throat--"but they ain't none here-'bout, not ev'n over to Hebrin way, whut's nice 'n' man'erly 'n' _ree_-specb'l, sho!"

The peregrinations of the persecuted toad, after describing an irregular semi-circle, had now led him near the spot where I stood. After the patient reptile toiled the three infants; two of the same size and apparently the same age, and one who had but recently reached the crawling period. This one, by the way, was perpetually in the rear of the procession, its single garment hampering its knee action and making any sort of speed out of the question. The frog had become tired of his enforced journey, and was getting harder to move after each diminishing leap. Now it sat with palpitating sides, stubbornly refusing another jump, while the finger of the lead tormentor prodded with dull persistence at its posterior.

Up to this time Mrs. Toller had paid no heed to the unique pastime of her three youngest, such pursuits possibly having lost interest from their commonness. Now, however, she bent suddenly forward, exclaiming shrilly:

"You Stephen Alec! Don't tech that varmint ag'in! Yo' wan' to hev warts all over yo'?"

Stephen Alec promptly drew back and thrust the hand which stood in jeopardy behind him. He turned a loose-lipped visage to his angry parent, then began a series of extraordinarily piercing yells.

Behold my chance! I stepped forward and gathered Stephen Alec up in my arms and sat him upon my shoulder. Then I tossed him gently. Next I was sitting on the ground with my watch out against his ear. The yells ceased, and presently brothers and sisters were crowding around me. I told them a story--one of the old, old favorites which our grandmothers used to quiet their children with, and before it was done a little girl had slid up so close to me over the bare ground that, still talking, I put out my arm and curled it around her and pulled her up onto my knee.

At that another came voluntarily and crouched against my leg. Presently the whole ragged, unwashed crew were squeezing about me as close as they could get, and I was digging in the unused recesses of my mind for the most correct version of Red Riding Hood and Three Little Pigs. Poor Mrs.

Toller! Happy Mrs. Toller! She fluttered from the black kettle to my group, back and forth, listening in silence, like one of the children, then hastening back to the clothes. I must have acted entertainer for a full hour, although I found it interesting, and did not tire. When I signified my intention of going I encountered a vociferous denial, and perforce must relate a number of the tales a second time. But at length I was on my feet, and with urchins clinging to every available hold about me, advanced to bid Mrs. Toller good-by.

"I'm awfully glad to have seen you and all these bright little people!"

(I should have been ashamed; I know it.) "I must be getting on now."

Mrs. Toller was actually embarra.s.sed.

"I mought 'a' spoke a bit mo' ceev'ly to yo' ef I'd 'a' knowed yo' 's sich a nice man. A pus'n can't be too partic'ler, yo' know, 'specially w'en th' man's 'way mos' o' th' time. Since th' chil'n' hev took to yo'

so I don't mind sayin' that Granny 'lowed to me she's tak'n' Lessie 'way from th' neighborhood 'count uv a man, but she nev'r named 'im 'cus people don't tell names 'n' tales too, ez a gin'r'l thin'."

"Much obliged to you, indeed. Glad to have seen you. Good-day."

"Good marn'n'. Come back ag'in ef yo' git lonesome."

A half-hour later I was sitting in the porch entrance of the deserted house at Lizard Point. Right there we had sat such a short time before, and she had learned her A B C's. Down that winding path we had strolled the first time I came to call, and she had struggled so to tell me of the darkened house in which she dwelt. And I was going to help her.

Already I had helped her, and now--I ground my teeth in sudden rage and leaped up. Where was Jeff Angel? Gone with them? Where was anybody who could point me a way out? Father John! He might know something of this remote spot with the cla.s.sic name where Granny "had folks." I wanted to see Beryl Drane, anyway. I had not gone to her before because I knew well no good would come of it. To-day I wanted to stand before her face in the presence of her uncle, and ask her why she had told that vicious lie which had wrought such evil. I wanted to confront her with her baseness, and demand an explanation of her wanton wickedness. The sense of chivalry which was born in my blood and which had caused me to shield her once at the sacrifice of myself, was gone. It was consumed in the hot furnace of my wrath and indignation. I wanted Celeste--Celeste--Celeste! I would move heaven and earth to get her, for the wonder and mystery of her rare beauty and the hypnotic effect of her sweet personality had combined fearfully to work havoc within me. The elemental peace which brooded like a living presence over the earth this sunny, summer morning became to me a disturbing, harrowing force by very contrast with the awful tumult which boiled within my breast. I was lonely--lonely and desperate. I had borne all I could. That terrible week wherein I never saw the sun, nor heard a bird voice, nor felt the soothing benediction of a breeze, had well-nigh worn me out, bodily and spiritually. This crowning calamity I would not accept meekly. I would fight it; I would disclaim its existence. It was unjust, unfair, treacherous and cowardly. I had been honest from the beginning, and when a man plays the game of life fairly and squarely, not even Providence, or whatever Great Power there be, has the right to take advantage of him, and seek to overwhelm him. I would dare everything--heaven and h.e.l.l, if need be--for the sake of this golden haired Dryad with the lips of flame. She had been removed by force. Even a lover's mind is acute when the object of his adoration is concerned, and I knew--I knew that Celeste loved me! What else mattered? This compulsory separation? A great surge of triumph heaved up within me, and the light of victory came to my eyes. What poor, ignorant puppets these were, who had tried to rob me of my rare jewel? The beacon of her bright coronal would guide me to the furthest corner of the earth, and if need had been I would have followed across sea and plain and mountain and desert; followed with a fire-wrapped heart of deathless devotion, even as Three of old followed a certain Star.

Filled with mingled emotions, all primal, all superlative, so that my head seemed encircled with a close fitting metal band, I took up my march to Hebron along the dusty road. My mood was reckless. I wanted to see that little she-cat whose low vindictiveness was at the bottom of my present luckless plight. I would neither spare nor choose my words.

There was no gallantry lurking in my soul now to temper the accusations born of an outraged and agonized spirit. I felt sorry for the little priest, for he loved her well. But innocent suffer with and for the guilty daily. It is part of that plan we are told to accept blindly, and when we question it, however meekly and with the true and earnest desire for light, we are haled forth with a rope around our necks as heretics and atheists. Father John would have to witness the destruction of an idol, for I was merciless, and knew the power was within me to beat down any brazen denial this creature might utter. A mighty strange thing is love, my masters!

Across the home-made bridge I tramped, striding heavily. A figure stood in the door of the smithy, leather-ap.r.o.ned, tall and strong. I strode up the slope with bent head, and reached a point opposite him before I looked at Buck. Arms akimbo, st.u.r.dy legs apart, a grin on his face which broke into a low, deep chuckle as he caught my eye. I almost stopped, while my fists knotted with the instinct of a savage. But I went on, that rumbling, mocking laugh echoing in my ears. He knew she was gone.

Perhaps he had something to do with her leaving. That insulting, gloating chuckle could easily give rise to a suspicion of the sort, or it may have been he was in equally bad case, and had simply adopted that method of tormenting me.

I gained the priest's house with a feeling such as I imagine a tiger possesses when it gathers itself together to spring upon its prey. It was entirely alien to my nature, but it had been born of circ.u.mstance, not of my will, and I made no effort to remove or curb it. The front door was closed, probably against the heat. I pounded upon a panel with my fist, ignoring the gentler and more refined summons it is customary to give with the knuckles. As I stood waiting, restlessly turning from side to side, I observed that the shades to the two windows visible were drawn to within a foot of their respective sills. At this discovery a wild and reasonless alarm seized me. I renewed my hammering on the door, and even seized the k.n.o.b, shaking it vigorously. A key grated and the door was opened, revealing the gaunt face and bony form of Marie, the housekeeper. Wonder and a sort of terror shone in her bright black eyes.

"Father John!... Miss Drane!" I exclaimed roughly, brushing past her into the hall. "Where are they? In the library? I must see them both at once--together!"

I stopped and glared at the woman with a menacing forehead.

"His rev'rence an' Mees Bereel ees not here!" she said, simply and calmly.

"Not here! _Not here!..._ Where are they?"

"Gone. Mees Bereel goes home yest'day. His rev'rence go to Lou-ees-ville wiz her, an' have not return'; _oui_."

I made no reply, but left the house and mechanically turned back toward the little hamlet. Gone! Was that the monotonous and deadly refrain to which the world had been set running? All gone. Everybody gone. Wherever I turned--gone. With sagging shoulders I plodded on, trying to think of something else. Where was Snack Hollow? Where was Snack Hollow? Where was Snack Hollow? This sentence raced through my brain with the regularity of a pendulum's swing. Why, the station agent would know! I had reached the foot of the steep hill, where the track ran, when this illuminating idea was conceived. To my right was the small depot, fronted by a platform of a height to unload freight upon from a car door. Looking up suddenly under the force of my discovery, I saw Jeff Angel seated upon this platform, his thin legs hanging from it, an oilcloth-covered bundle at his side. He was leisurely eating cheese and crackers from a yellow paper sack. What a glad sight he was to me in the midst of an empty world!

"O you blessed old Satyr!" I yelled, and ran toward him forthwith.

"Whut's th' furse 'bout?" he asked, quietly, trying to smile a welcome, but only succeeding in showing some imperfect teeth caked with cheese and dough.

"Why, d.a.m.n your dirty, good old hide, I'm glad to see you!" I continued, jumping to a seat at his left and squeezing his disengaged hand. "I'm about two-thirds crazy, you know, and I need somebody to hold me when the other third slips over. Think you can?"

I nudged his skinny ribs jocularly. My mental condition truly was not up to standard that moment.

"Huh!" grunted Jeff, casting me a quick, amused glance.

"Why didn't you wait and have breakfast?" I asked, drawing a breath which flooded the deepest cell in my lungs.

I tell you it was good to sit by the side of that ragged piece of flotsam. I felt hope coming back, for I knew he was my friend.

"Woke up--thirsty 's 'ell. Your'n gone; mine gone. Had to hev some liquor, so I lit out, easy, so 's not to wake you up. Had some muster, didn't we?--Huh?"

I nodded. I didn't care to review that night's doings.

"See here, Satyr," I said, abruptly; "where's Lessie?"

"She's 'ith Granny 'n' Gran'fer, I reck'n," he replied, with a naturalness which for a moment caused me to wonder if he knew of their departure. "Leas'ways, they lef' together," he added, after a brief interval.

"Where have they gone?--what did they go for?--when are they coming back?"

My companion tossed the last bit of cheese, rind and all, into his mouth; inverted the sack and allowed all the crumbs to go the same way; blew the sack up and burst it on his knee, and began to feel for his pipe before he replied.

"I don' know whur they gone. They went to git Lessie 'way frum you. They 's com'n' back putty durn soon."

"I know where they've gone! It's to Snack Hollow!"

"Who tol' yo'?"

The look he bent upon me was a mixture of pity and contempt.

"Mrs. Toller. I've just come from there. She was uncivil at first, but I made up with the children, then she said Granny had told her she was going to Snack Hollow, where she had some folks. Where is this place, Satyr? I'm going, too, next train."

"No ust, pardner."

He scratched the dirty stub of a match on a plank, and lit up.

"Granny--'n' Gran'fer--'n' Lessie--ain't a-nigh Snack Holler!"

The fateful sentence came out in jerks, between puffs. I thought he was trying to scare me.

"You can't fool me, Jeff," I retorted, but my voice lacked a.s.surance.

"How far is this Snack Hollow, and how soon can I get there?"

With the greatest air of insouciance the vagabond fiddler chanted, in the same sing-song with which I had grown familiar: