Heart of the Blue Ridge Part 7

But the jaws were still locked. In the same instant, the beast was firmly set, hauling at the rope. The raft was held for a little by the dog alone, against the waters as they sucked back. Then, the girls tottered to aid. They fell to their knees in the shallows, and clung frantically. The waves hissed away from them.

They feared the coming of a larger breaker to undo their work.

Josephine perceived to her astonishment that the man was not fastened to the raft, except by the vise-like gripping of his big hands. And, too, she saw now that he was living. She guessed that he was stupefied by exhaustion, yet not swooning. She shrieked to him to unclench his fingers. It may be that his dulled brain understood in a measure; it may be that he was come to the very end of his strength. Anyhow, as she put her fingers to his, there was no resistance. The grasp that had withstood the sea's fury, yielded at once to the soft pressure of her touch. The two girls summoned new energy to the task. The dog let go the rope, and, whining curiously, caught a trouser leg between its teeth, and aided. Somehow, the three contrived to roll and push and pull the inert form to a point of safety. Then, they sank down, panting.

Josephine stirred first. With a gasping sigh, she struggled to a sitting position. The dog at once stood up, and shook itself with great violence. The drops splashed over the face of Florence, and she, in turn, opened her eyes, groaned deeply, and sat up, with a wry smile of discomfort.

"What'll we do with the corpse?" she inquired, in an undertaker's best manner.

The funereal suggestion, so sincerely offered, provoked Josephine to a weak peal of laughter.

"Better wait to worry over that till he's dead," she answered briskly, if somewhat incoherently. "And he will be, if we don't watch out.

There should be a flask in the motor. Run and get it, Flo. I'll chafe his hands."

"Run!" the other exclaimed. "If I can crawl it, I'll be proud."

Nevertheless, she got to her feet, stiffly, but readily enough. "And sprinkle water on his face," she called over her shoulder. "It might cheer him anyhow, after having had it all over him by the ton." Both girls in the first reaction from the stress of their war against death were br.i.m.m.i.n.g with joyousness, notwithstanding fatigue.

While Josephine rubbed the rough hands as strongly as she could between her own tender ones, the dog drew near. When the girl looked up, she saw that her pet was licking the man's face. She called out in sharp rebuke. At the same moment, the castaway's eyes unclosed. For long seconds, he stared, unblinking. Then, abruptly, his voice sounded in a low drawl of wonder:

"Hit's thet-thar d.a.m.ned man-faced dawg!"

CHAPTER X

The castaway's gaze went to the girl kneeling beside him.

"An' the furrin woman!" he muttered.

Florence came running with the flask, which was full of brandy.

"Quick!" Josephine urged. "He's better, but he's raving crazy. Thinks I'm a foreigner."

But, as Florence could have filled the cup of the flask, Zeke interposed, with more animation than he had hitherto shown.

"If so be that's likker, an' ye 'lows to give hit to me, if hit don't make no p'tic'lar diff'rence to you-all, I'd like to drink hit right smack outen thet-thar new-fangled bottle, jest as we be a-used to doin' in the State o' Wilkes."

"As you wish, of course," Florence replied, soothingly. "It will make a new man of you."

Zeke promptly sat up and put his lips to the mouth of the flask, and held them there while the rhythmic movement of his adam's apple visibly witnessed thirstiness. The girls regarded him with astonishment, which quickly merged in dismay, for they could not guess the boomer's capacity for fiery drink. As a matter of fact, Zeke, while he drank, lamented the insipidity of the draught, and sighed for a swig of moonshine to rout the chill in his veins with its fluid flames. He, in turn, was presently to learn, with astonishment, that a beverage so mild to the taste had all the potency of his mountain dram, and more. Chilled as he had been by the long hours of exposure to the night air of the sea, while drifting the fifteen miles from Ocrac.o.ke Inlet, and worn in body and mind by the peril of his situation, Zeke found himself almost at once strengthened and cheered by the generous spirit. He was, in fact, another man than the exhausted castaway, as the girl had promised; he was himself again. He was still weak and shaken; but his splendid vitality was a.s.serting itself. The gray, drawn face was colored to golden tan; the clear eyes were shining with new appreciation of the joy of life. He had not thought much after the very first, during those long, racking hours of tossing on the sea. His brain had become numb. His fancies had run to tender memories of moments spent with Plutina. Often, he had felt her presence there with him, in the dark s.p.a.ces of the sea. But the idea that most dominated his mind had sprung from the l.u.s.ty instinct of self-preservation; he must cling to the raft. It had been the one thing that he could do toward safety. His whole will had centered in the clutch of his hands on the tubes.

Seeing the man thus recovered, the girls withdrew toward the runabout to adjust their clothing, and to find some garment for the man, since he wore only shirt and trousers. But the bull-terrier, for a wonder, did not follow its mistress. Instead, it sat on its haunches close to the mountaineer, and muzzled his hand. Zeke pulled the dog's ears gently.

"That thump I gin ye must 'a' struck plumb down to yer heart, an' made a right-smart change in yer affections. Ye wa'n't so dummed friendly when ye tuck thet-thar hunk out o' my pants."

The dog whined an answer, and crept fawningly into the mountaineer's lap, where it nestled contentedly. It was thus that the girls, returning with a rain-coat, found the two, and they stared in surprise, for the bull-terrier was none too amiable with strangers.

"I never knew Chubbie make friends like that before," Josephine exclaimed. She looked in fresh curiosity upon the wholesome face with the regular features, rather stern in repose, but now softened by a smile. "It must be because he helped us pull you out. We couldn't have done it without him. That makes you belong to him, in a way."

Zeke stared at the dog, with new respect.

"The darned son of a gun!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, gravely. "I reckon," he continued after a meditative pause, "the little cuss felt like he owed me somethin' fer sp'ilin' my jeans. That crack I gin him put the fear o' G.o.d into his bosom, so to speak. 'The more ye beat 'em, the better they be.'"

Josephine started at his words. Without a hat, the dark curls had given a look so different to the face that, until now, she had not recognized the man of the ferry-boat.

"Why," she cried, "you are the one!" She turned to the bewildered Florence. Her blue eyes were flashing; her voice was hard. "He's the creature that almost killed Chubbie. And to think we troubled to save him!"

"That h.e.l.l-fired pup o' your'n took a holt on me first," Zeke protested wrathfully, forgetful of his reconciliation with the dog.

Then, a plaintive whine recalled him. He smiled whimsically, as he patted the bull-terrier's head, which was lifted toward him fondly.

The anger died out of his face, and he smiled. "I've hearn these-hyar dumb critters git things 'bout right by instinct, somehow. Yer dawg's done fergive me. Won't you-all, mum?"

Josephine hesitated. The ingenuous appeal touched her. Only pride held her from yielding.

"An', besides," Zeke went on, "ye was a-sayin' as how the dawg kind o'

felt I belonged to him like, bein' he he'ped pull me out o' the ocean, an' so he had to like me. Thet-thar argyment goes fer you-all, too, mum. So, I 'low ye gotter fergive me--specially kase yer dawg begun hit."

Josephine relaxed with a ripple of laughter. The mountaineer both interested and pleased her. To her inevitable interest in one whom she had helped to save from death, there was now added a personal attraction. She perceived, with astonishment, that this was by no means the hulking brute she had deemed him when her pet had suffered at his hands. The dog's att.i.tude toward him impressed her deeply.

Moreover, she saw that he was intelligent, as well as nave. She perceived that he had humor and quickness of feeling. His responsiveness to the dog's advances pleased her. She was greedy of experience and knowledge, easily bored by familiar things, likely to be vastly interested, for a brief season, in the new and strange. She realized that here, ready to her hand, was a type wholly novel. She felt that it was her prerogative to understand something of the nature of this singular being thus cast at her feet by fate. Certainly, it would be absurd to cherish any rancor. As he had said, the dog's action sufficed. Besides, she must be friendly if she would learn concerning this personality. Every reason justified inclination. She rebelled no longer. Her blue eyes gleamed with genuine kindliness, as she spoke:

"I'll take Chubbie's word for it." Her voice became authoritative.

"Now, if you feel equal to standing up, we'll have this rain-coat on you, and then run you down to the yacht. We'll attend to landing you somewhere after you've rested and had something to eat."

Already Josephine's brain was busy, scheming to her own ends, but of this she gave no hint.

Zeke pushed away the reluctant dog, and rose up stiffly. The stimulation of the brandy stood him in good stead.

"I 'low I'm havin' a right-smart lot of experience," he remarked, chuckling. "What with steam-cars, an' boats, an' wrecks, an' now one o' them ornery devil-wagons. I hain't a-feared none," he added, musingly, "but I hain't a-pinin' neither. I reckon I kin stand anythin' what gals an' a dog kin. I'm plumb nervous or hungry--I don't know which. Both, like's not!"

He rejected the offer of support, and walked firmly enough to the machine, which he eyed distrustfully. Florence took the rear seat, and Zeke established himself beside Josephine, the dog between his feet.

After the first few minutes, he found himself delighting in this smooth, silent rush over the white sands. In answer to Josephine's question, he gave a bare outline of his adventures in the three days of his absence from the mountains.

"I was a-hankerin' arter experience," he concluded, "an' aimin' to make my everlastin' fortin. I been doin' pretty peart, so fer."

"You've certainly had more than your share of experience in the time,"

Josephine agreed; "though I don't know about the fortune."

"Started right-smack off at the rate of more'n seventy-five thousand dollars a year," Zeke rejoined, complacently. He laughed joyously at the bewildered face the girl turned to him.

"I done figured hit out las' night, not havin' much of anythin' to do on thet-thar raft, 'cept to stick." He gave an account of the capture of the negro outlaw, for which he had received a reward. "I'm only a-jokin', of course," he went on with new seriousness. "I hain't pinin' fer no foolishness. All I want is enough so's not to be hog-pore. An' I got a chance to learn somethin', an' to make somethin', an', arter all, go right on livin' in my own country. An'

that's what Plutiny wants, too. An' I'll have enough to buy her straighteners, if she wants 'em, by cracky!"

"Oh--straighteners?" Josephine repeated, mystified. Vague memories of a visit to a hospital suggested an explanation. "Then, this person you speak of, Plutina, is deformed?"

"Deformed!" For an instant, Zeke could only repeat the word, helplessly.

"A curvature of the spine, I suppose," Josephine continued, without interest. She had her eyes on the ribbon of sand now, and guessed nothing as to her companion's disturbance, until his voice came in a burst of protest that made her jump.

"Plutiny--deformed!" he exclaimed, harshly. Then, his voice softened wonderfully, though it shook with the tensity of his feeling. "Why, Plutiny's better'n anybody else in all the world--she is, an' she looks. .h.i.t. Plutiny--deformed! Why, my Plutiny's straight as thet-thar young pine tree atop Bull Head Mounting. An' she's as easy an'