Sunlight Patch Part 52

Stone slapped himself upon the leg and hopefully announced: "That's the only way to handle him! I want to go there, anyhow, and get a look at that woman!"

"So do I," the old gentleman murmured. "Some day I want to go up there, and take her back nine dollars and the mare; and tell her what her influence has stood for in this valley--better ideals and ways of living!--who can tell how far it reaches!"

"Yes, who can tell!" the doctor softly answered. "It all seems to stand as a sort of product of Sunlight Patch, which will stay with us long after Dale has gone."

"That is it," the Colonel nodded, his serious gaze upon the ground, "the product of Sunlight Patch, which will remain long after Dale and we have gone. But come," he looked up, "I am keeping you!"

"Well, if you don't mind, I'll go in for a minute and say good-bye--then come out and join you again."

"I'll be d.a.m.ned if I wait here till sundown," the old gentleman chuckled. "Shake hands now, sir, and let me wish you G.o.d-speed in this, and all your journeys; then you may take your own good time about saying good-bye, sir! I'm going up to Brent, anyway, and tell him!--about Dale, about Dale," he added hastily, seeing a look of consternation come into the doctor's face. But, a few minutes later when he had climbed to Brent's room, so excited was he with news and fresh plans that his very first words were: "Did you know that that fellow, Stone, is going to marry our Nancy?" He, like Aunt Timmie, put his secrets in safe places.

Being in the third floor is why he failed to see Jess come onto the porch, or Uncle Zack admit him to the library.

Dale did not at first hear the sheriff, even when the old darky had announced him and pushed a chair up to the table. But Jess, possessing less delicacy in matters of this sort, or being more in earnest, laid a hand on the mountaineer's shoulder and gave it a rough shake. This brought him back from Cicero with a glare of fury, though quickly dismissed at sight of his visitor.

"I reckoned I'd find you 'sleep," were the sheriff's first words, when Zack had gone.

"Oh, I sleep some in the evenin's. Sleep's mostly for women, anyhow."

"I wouldn't be s'prised if a leetle wa'n't fer men, now an' then," Jess grinned. "You can't lay out watchin' his cabin till daylight, as you've been doin', an' set around with these heah books all day. Fu'st thing you know you'll be drappin' off in a snooze out thar, an' missin' him!"

"Don't let that worry you," Dale clenched his fists. "I got to be with these books all day, an' I got to watch for him at night--or the books won't do me any good."

"I don't quite foller yoh reasonin'!"

"I didn't think you would," he gave Jess a superior look. "Got any news?"

"Nope; an' I've come to say I'm ready to give up! My hound says thar ain't a smell of 'im 'tween heah an' h.e.l.l."

"Then your hound lies; for I tell you he's around somewhere, an' not so very far off, either!"

"Look-ee-heah," the sheriff raised half up in his chair, "I don't 'llow no man to call my hound a liar!"

"Oh, sit down, Jess! Didn't I just tell you I _know_ he's around somewhere?"

"Then what kind of a dawg might _you_ be, Mister Dawson?"

But Dale either did not hear, or did not want to take this up. All he said was:

"Let's keep on trying, Jess!"

"Oh, all right, if yoh're so dod-gasted suah! Go on, then, an' watch tonight, an' I'll relieve you, same as usual, jest 'foh day!"

There was nothing more to be said, so the mountaineer turned back to the table, thus curtly dismissing the sheriff whose face flushed as he got up and went out.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

A TIN CYLINDER

The week dragged through to a lifeless close, and the anxiety of those nearest Dale perceptibly increased. Unquestionably he was getting thinner, his eyes were deeper and more haunted. In vain did they urge him to rest but he turned a deaf ear to all entreaty.

The doctor had been expected since noon of the previous day, and every sound on the pike brought the old gentleman to his feet, peering hopefully through the trees. Each hour, from twelve on, had made him more restive. Throughout luncheon and dinner his gaze would repeatedly wander across the terrace to a strip of lane in view from the dining-room window; and he sat up late that night, still listening. So he had slept late this Sunday morning.

But Brent, aroused by an undercurrent of some strange excitement, awakened with the birds. He went softly down the hall for his tub and dressed with more than his usual care; all the while wanting to whistle, but desisting through deference to the sleeping household.

As he stepped out into the fresh early morning one might have remarked a noticeable change in him since the night he crossed twice to Bradford's cottage. His eyes were clearer, the flesh upon his cheeks was firm and bronzed. He was a few pounds lighter, and this gave his face a clean-cut, chiselled look. His step was buoyant, and one instinctively knew that beneath the well-fitting clothes played a network of splendidly laced muscles. He threw back his head and took a deep, joyous breath of the cool pure air, then went on toward the chairs cl.u.s.tered in inviting comfort beneath the trees. But the gra.s.s and they were still wet, so he began strolling around the tanbark circle, following paths and brushing through dew-bathed spider webs stretched like spun gla.s.s across his way.

The picturesque old peach orchard was a wealth of blushing fruit, dropping from the over-weighted branches into a carpet of red clover. He went in here, and came out with his teeth buried in a luscious peach--leaning forward and wanting to laugh as its juice trickled over his chin. For not only were his hands occupied with other peaches, but he was pressing tightly beneath one arm a tin cylinder, three feet long and several inches in diameter. This was the thing Zack first noticed when that worthy appeared some half hour later.

"Good mawnin', Ma.r.s.e Brent," he bowed. "It sho'ly do look good to see you down so fresh an' early! What's dat cu'ious lookin' thing you got dar?"

"It's a lay-over-to-catch-meddlers, Uncle Zack."

"A lay over to do which?" he squinted.

"It has a present in it," Brent laughed. "Give me a match!"

He lit a cigarette, and the old fellow watched with a fond expression which gradually drew up into a tangle of wrinkles.

"Doesn' you want me to fetch you a li'l julep fer a mawnin'-mawnin'?

It'll make yoh breakfas' set mighty good arter all dem peaches, an' I ain' fixed you none for--why, it must be moh'n a month!"

"No, you old sinner, I'm through with your mawnin'-mawnin's; and if you bring any around I'll take you to the grindstone!"

Uncle Zack stroked his jaw and grinned.

"Sho! Dat ain' gwine do me no hahm now, 'caze mah onlies' toof's done drapped out."

"Then I'll get Miss Liz after you!"

"Lawd, Ma.r.s.e Brent," the old fellow grew serious, "you knows she ain'

turr'ble no moh! She's jest as meller as dem peaches, an' only las' week give me a dollar 'caze I hadn' cyarried de Cunnel but one julep dat day!"

"Is the Colonel getting up?"

"Naw, sah, he ain' budged. He say he sleepin' better'n he uster."

"Zack, do you want to ride over to Mister Bob's for me before breakfast?"

"You knows I do--'foh breakfas', an' arter breakfas'!"

"Then get your mule--I'll have something for you to take."

While Zack was hurrying to the stables, Brent walked excitedly to the garden to pick a bouquet of flowers; but, although there were thousands of blossoms from which to choose, their selection seemed a most difficult problem. More difficult, however, was a note he tried to write a few minutes later in the library; and Zack was waiting patiently before the third attempt--which happened to be the successful one--was sealed.