A Romance of Billy-Goat Hill Part 7

The thin young man hadn't sense to stop; again and again he flung his insults at the infuriated Sheeley, impatiently fighting off the efforts of his companion who sought to part them. Suddenly Chick saw him step back, while the others were grappling, and fumble in his rear pocket.

He saw him steady himself against the door jamb, not four feet away, and raise a pistol. There was a sharp report, a smothered groan, then a heavy fall.

The man with the pistol flung it through the broken window, then staggered to the table where he sank down with his head on his arms.

What had happened in the corner, Chick could not tell, but in a few minutes _his_ young man came swiftly into his line of vision, and shook the limp figure half lying on the table.

"Get up, Dill! For G.o.d's sake! Are you too drunk to crank up your machine? As soon as I can get that blood stopped I must go for a doctor."

The dazed eyes of the drunken man looked at him in helpless terror!

"I can't stay here!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: There was a sharp report, a smothered groan, then a heavy fall.]

"You've got to stay here! Can't you see you are in no fix to run a machine? Brace up, you idiot; we've got to _do_ something and do it quick. Go down and try to crank up. Here's the door key! I'll be there as soon as I can get the blood stopped!"

The man at the table staggered to the door, pa.s.sed through the hall, so close to Chick that he almost trod upon him, then went swaying down the stairs, steadying himself by wall and banister. Chick heard the side door slam, and the chug of the machine, then realized that it was turning the corner.

The young man in the room rushed frantically to the window and leaned out, then he said something savage under his breath, and plunged out into the pa.s.sage and headlong down the steps. Chick heard the side door bang again, and a moment later the gallop of a horse.

Then everything was still, but the noisy beating of his heart that threatened to burst its confines. Through the crack he saw the table with its broken tumblers, and the whisky drip, dripping on the floor; he saw the chairs overturned, and the gas-jet flickering in the wind from the broken window.

The thing he could not see was what lay in the corner, the huddled-up, blood-stained hulk of a something for which a smiling, fat woman and six tow-headed youngsters were waiting across the common. Chick crawled to the head of the stairs, and as he reached the top step his hand touched a hard object. He picked it up and held it to the light, and as he did so, the joy that often blossoms on the brink of tragedy was his for a moment. It was the riding whip whose handle he had fallen heir to that afternoon!

Down the steps, through the door and out into the rain-soaked night he sped; across the common, through the switch-yard, and down the narrow, noisome darkness of Bean Alley. Over a ram-shackled fence, and up a dilapidated porch he clambered like a cat, until he reached the small loft in the Flathers' two-roomed mansion which he called home.

Here the hardened criminal, the breaker of laws, and of slot machines, the would-be burglar, threw himself upon an old mattress, and with two grimy fists in his eyes sobbed out his heart to the rafters above.

It was not repentance for his sins, neither was it terror of the secret that was locked behind his inarticulate lips, although both of them had a part. It was because a beautiful young lady had taken his part, and put her arms about him, and refused to believe that he was as bad as Skeeter Sheeley said he was.

CHAPTER V

During the rest of the week the rainstorm, that had started all the trouble, continued to hover ominously, breaking forth day after day in fierce, petulant showers. Out at Thornwood the aspect was most dreary; the low-lying ground in front of the house was under water for a quarter of a mile, trees, limp and draggled, stood disconsolate in an unfamiliar lake, the bridge below the dam was washed away, and horses going to the creek for water were constantly being caught by the current, and having to be rescued by ropes. In the flower garden dirty-faced little blossoms lay in the mud, vines trailed across the paths, all the fragrance and color seemed to be soaked out of everything by those continuous, pelting showers.

Within the house it was not much gayer. The front hall, with its steep, narrow stairway, and floor-covering of highly ornate landscape oilcloth, was in a perpetual twilight. An occasional glint from white woodwork, or the gold molding of a picture, strove in vain to dispel the gloom. The parlor, at the right of the hall, was sepulchral with its window cracks stuffed with paper, and the shutters securely closed. To be sure, the living-room on the other side of the hall did its best to look cheerful, but even that comfortable spot with its low ceiling and battered mahogany furniture, its high cupboards flanking the wide, stone fireplace, and its friendly litter of every-day necessities, was not equal to the occasion.

One afternoon when the Colonel came in from the chicken yard where he and Uncle Jimpson had const.i.tuted themselves a salvage corps, he surprised Miss Lady sitting in the dusk on the floor before the empty fireplace, with suspicious traces of tears upon her face.

"Make a light," bl.u.s.tered the Colonel; "you mustn't sit around in the dark like this, you know. Where's my pipe?"

She sprang up and found the missing article, and with a great show of cheerfulness lit the lamp and held the match out for him to light his pipe.

"What's the matter?" asked the Colonel; "sort of trembly, ain't you?"

"Me? Watch me!" She held the match very straight and very tight, then as it wavered, blew it out and dropped it down his sleeve. "There's some mail over there on the table for you, Daddy dear. Noah brought it down from town in his buggy."

She said it very carelessly, and even enumerated the contents as she handed it to him:

"Two circulars, a letter from the seed man, the _Confederate Veteran_ and the newspapers."

"Nothing for you?"

"Nothing."

Under his scrutiny Miss Lady's eyes fell, and she turned abruptly to the window, while the Colonel, mouth open, pipe in hand, watched her.

He had never seen his girl like this in her life! What business had her lip to tremble in the middle of a sentence, or her eyes to brim with sudden tears, making her turn her back on her adoring Dad, and busy herself with the window curtain?

Of course it is upsetting to have a friend, whom you have been seeing daily for a couple of weeks, get into trouble such as young Donald Morley had fallen into. It made even the Colonel feel bad, he didn't deny it. But what business had the kitten to be taking it all so to heart? Why was she called upon to champion this young stranger's cause so hotly, to resent every insinuation, and to contend! pa.s.sionately that he would be able to explain everything? Morley had not explained. Three days had dragged past and nothing had been heard from him. Nothing probably would be heard from him! The Colonel wanted to feel victorious, but he did! not. Instead, he cast anxious and sympathetic glances at the back of his daughter's head, and surrept.i.tiously wiped his small snub nose on the corner of his red-bordered handkerchief.

He had a good mind to give up his trip to Virginia! To be sure, he had looked forward for months to celebrating Founders' Day at the old college. If it weren't for seeing all the old boys, he would stay at home. By George! the little girl came first; he would stay at home anyhow!

"Those gloves," he burst out by way of breaking the news; "the thin ones I told you to mend. Well, you needn't mend them."

"I haven't," said Miss Lady, "but I'll do it now."

"Needn't mind. Won't need 'em. Fact is, I ain't going."

"Yes you are," said Miss Lady, adding inconsequently, "Why not?"

"Needed here at home. Roads washed out, everything out of fix. Decided to stay at home." Miss Lady wheeled from the window where she had been tracing the raindrops on the pane, and made a rush for him, establishing herself on his lap, as far as one could establish oneself on such a perpendicular surface.

"You are not going to do anything of the kind. Uncle Jimpson is going to drive you in to town to catch the first train in the morning."

"I ain't going," insisted the Colonel, shaking his head doggedly.

"Yes you are. Where's your traveling bag?"

"On the top shelf of the cupboard. But I'm not going." He said it firmly, but the next instant he asked, "Did Jimpson press my gray suit?"

"Oh! Squire Daddy, I'm so sorry I forgot to tell him! I'll tell him now."

"Too late!" the Colonel sighed in resignation; "no use talking any more about it."

"Yes there is! Your enthusiasm's just gotten damp like everything else.

I am going to tell Uncle Jimpson to make a little fire to cheer us up, then we'll all go to work to get you ready."

It seemed to be a relief to her to bustle about and set things in motion. In a short while she had a cheerful blaze going on the hearth, and the curtains drawn against the dreary twilight without.

The Colonel sat in the middle of the room, watching Uncle Jimpson and Aunt Caroline collect his scattered wardrobe, keeping a vigilant eye meanwhile upon Miss Lady. He simply did not intend to have her unhappy!

It was preposterous! Altogether out of the question! His little girl crying around in corners where he couldn't see her? The idea of such a thing! If she must cry, what was the matter with his shoulder?

"You ain't got but four hankchiefs in de wash, Cunnel," announced Aunt Caroline from her knees beside a large wicker basket. "Don't look lak dat's enough fer a white gem-man to start off on a trip wif."

"Jimpson," the Colonel looked up reproachfully, "did you hear that? You have actually let me get down to four handkerchiefs."