Anything Once Part 3

Jim picked up a stout stick and leaned heavily upon it as they plodded along, while the twilight deepened to darkness and the stars appeared.

The girl's step lagged now, but she kept up in little spurts and set her lips determinedly.

At length they came to another stream, a rushing mill-race this time, with an old mill, moss-covered and fallen into decay beside it, and by tacit consent they sank down on the worn step.

"I don't believe we can go any farther," Jim panted. "I guess this is as good a place as any to camp for the night, and you can sleep in there."

He indicated the sagging door behind him, and Lou followed his gesture with a reluctant eye. Jim noted the glance and, misunderstanding it, added hastily:

"I don't believe there are any rats in there, but if you'll lend me your matches I'll see."

"Rats!" she repeated in withering scorn. "There was plenty of them in the insti--where I come from. I was just thinkin' maybe somebody else was sleepin' there already."

She handed over the matches and Jim pushed open the door and entered, feeling carefully for rotten boards in the decayed flooring. A prolonged survey by the flickering light of the matches a.s.sured him that the ancient, cobwebbed place was deserted, and he turned again to the door, but its step was unoccupied and nowhere in the starlight could he discern a flutter of that blue-and-white striped dress.

Could she have run away from him? At the thought a forlorn sense of loneliness swept over him greater than he had known since he had started upon his tramp. She was tired out; could he in some way have frightened her, or had a mad spirit of adventure sent her on like a will-o'-the-wisp into the night?

"Lou!" he called, and his voice echoed back. "Lou!"

All at once he noticed what he had not observed before--a single light by the roadside in a clearing ahead. Perhaps she had gone there for more secure shelter.

His cogitations were abruptly interrupted by a dog's excited barking, subdued by distance, but deep-throated. The sound came from the direction of the clearing, and, taking up his heavy stick, Jim hobbled to the road. If Lou had got into any trouble----

The barking turned to growls; horrible, crunching growls which brought his heart up into his throat as he broke into a run, forgetting his pain. He had not gained the top of the rise in the road, however, when the growls gave place to wild yelps and howls which rapidly diminished in the distance and presently Lou appeared holding carefully before her something round and white which gleamed in the starlight.

"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed when she neared him. "What on earth have you been doing?"

"Git on back 'round the other side of the mill!" ordered Lou. "I gotta go slow or I'll spill it."

"What is it?"

But she vouchsafed him no reply until they reached a ledge of rock over the tumbling stream, well out of sight of that light on the hill. Then she set down the object she was carrying and he saw that it was a bright tin pan, filled almost to the brim with milk.

"I thought it would go good with our bread an' ham," she explained ingenuously. "I figgered from what I learned at that Hess place that they'd leave some out in the summer cellar to cream, for they ain't got any spring-house, an' they won't be likely to miss one pan out of fifteen. Besides, there's nothin' in them rules you told me that stops _me_ from beggin' or borrowin', or stealin', either, an' if I _give_ you some of this you ain't got any call to ask me where it come from."

This feminine logic left Jim almost speechless, but he managed to gasp out:

"The dog! Didn't he attack you?"

"I guess that was what he intended, but I put down the pan an' fit him off." She added, with evident pride. "I never spilled a drop, either!"

"Good Lord!" Jim e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "I believe you'd do anything once!"

"I b'lieve I would, provided I wanted to," Lou agreed placidly. Then her tone changed. "There's somebody comin' up the road from Hudsondale like all in creation was after 'em."

Indeed, the sound of a horse's mad gallop up the steep road by which they had come was plainly to be heard increasing in volume, and the grating jar of wheels as though a wagon were being thrown from side to side.

"Think it's a runaway?" Jim rose and strained his eyes into the darkness at the farther end of the bridge.

"No; driver's drunk, maybe," Lou responded. "The horse's dead beat an'

he's lashin' it on. Listen!"

Jim heard the wild gallop falter and drop into a weary trot, only to leap forward again with a wild scramble of hoofs on the rocky road as though the wretched animal was spurred on by sudden pain, and he clenched his hands.

As though reading his thoughts, Lou remarked:

"Only a beast himself would treat a horse that way. The folks at the farm where I was treated theirs somethin' terrible. If he don't look out he'll go over the side of the bridge."

Jim had already started for the road in front of the mill, and Lou followed him, just as a perilously swaying lantern came to view, showing an old-fashioned carriage of the "buggy" type containing a single occupant and drawn by a horse which was streaked with lather.

The light wagon hit the bridge with a bounce which almost sent it careening over into the rushing stream below, and at the same moment Lou uttered an odd exclamation, more of anger than fear, and straightened up to her full height.

"It's Max!" she informed Jim. "You git back behind the mill; you ain't fit to fight----"

"What do you take me for?" Jim demanded indignantly. "Max Hess, eh? The fellow who treated you so badly back at that farm? I wanted to get him this morning, the hound! You go straight back into the mill yourself, and leave me to handle him."

But he was too late. The wagon had crossed the bridge and halted in front of them so suddenly that the horse slid along for a pace upon his haunches.

"Got yer!" a thick voice announced triumphantly, as a burly figure wrapped the reins around the whip socket and lumbered to the ground.

"Yah! I thought there was a feller in it, somewheres!"

He approached them with menacingly clenched fists, but Jim asked coldly:

"Are you addressing this young woman?"

"Young thief, you mean! She's gotter come----"

But Jim, too, had advanced a pace.

"Take that back and get in your wagon and beat it," he announced distinctly, with a calmness which the other mistook for mildness. "If your name is Hess, this young woman is not going back with you, and I warn you now to be off."

"So that's it, is it?" the heavy voice sneered. "She's my mother's hired girl, an' she stole a lot o' food an' ran away this mornin'. Comes o'

takin' in an asylum brat----"

"Take that back, too, you blackguard!" Jim's voice was beginning to shake.

"Take nothin' back, 'cept Lou! What's she doin' with you, anyway? Might ha' knowed she was this sort----"

He got no further, for something landed like a hammer upon his nose and the blood streamed down between his thick lips, choking him. With an inarticulate roar of rage he lowered his bull neck and drove at the other man, but the other man wasn't there! Then another light, stinging blow landed upon his fat face and he flailed out again with a force that turned him completely around, for again his adversary had danced out of his way.

Every drop of bad blood in the lout was aroused now, for he was the bully and terror of his community, and he could not understand this way of fighting, nor why his own blows failed to land when this tramp could dodge in and punish him apparently whenever he chose.

Jim was many pounds lighter, and although the science of boxing was not unknown to him, he was dog-tired and his wrenched back agonized him at every move. The sheer weight of the other man was bearing him down, and Hess seemed to realize it, for with a grunt of satisfaction he swung in and landed a stiff body blow which staggered his adversary.

Hess's left eye was closed, and his lips split, but he hammered at his man relentlessly, and at length caught him with a blow which brought him to his knees. All the bully's blood-l.u.s.t boiled at sight of his half-fallen victim, and he drew back his heavily shod foot for a murderous kick, but it was never delivered.

Something caught that foot from behind and tripped him heavily into the dust, then landed upon him like a wildcat and bit and tore at him until with a scream of pain he managed to throw it off. Even as he struggled to his feet it sprang again upon him, kicking and clawing, and he turned quickly, and scrambling into the buggy seat, gathered up the reins.

Lou stood where he had torn himself from her grasp, listening to the volley of oaths and clatter of horses's feet until both had been swallowed up in the distance. Then she turned to where Jim stood swaying, with one hand pressed to his side, and the blood from the reopened cut upon his forehead making his face look ghastly in the starlight.