Sunlight Patch Part 8

"Lord have pity on our mendacious world," the old gentleman sighed.

The mountaineer had not intended to give offense. As a matter of fact, he held Jane in too sacred regard to suffer her the slightest inconvenience--but it was a regard for the teacher, for the possessor of that magic wand which would point him along the path of learning. She inspired him with no other personality. To get into school had been for so long the precious beacon of his desire that physical comforts or discomforts were transient incidents to be utterly ignored. He would have ignored his own bodily ailments, elbowed his way through pain of flesh and weariness of mind, in an onward rush for that one thing his soul craved--Learning. It craved, it blindly implored him, abjured him with curses and sweet words, until he had reached a state where obedience became an uncompromisable law. Nothing else came within his mental horizon, and thus it was that Bob's words perplexed, rather than offended, him.

The Colonel, ever ready to quiet fermenting anger, laid his hand genially on the homespun-covered shoulder.

"You will find, my ambitious young friend," he said, "that it is better in the long run to rest occasionally. Nature requires it, and, as you yourself have said, Nature is the true standard to follow."

"Nature don't rest," he doggedly retorted. "Trees don't rest from growin'!"

"They do, indeed," declared the Colonel, not quite sure of his ground, but willing to venture it. "Every night they rest, and so do all growing things."

Dale thought a moment, for this was a new idea.

"I don't believe it," he finally declared. Then smiling, and dropping into the attractive drawl, he asked: "Cunnel, ye wouldn't go so fur as ter say the trees takes Satu'day off ter quit growin', would ye?"

Bob laughed, but the old gentleman sighed.

"I fear you can't quite catch my meaning, sir," he compromised.

"However, you will be learning something this evening, because I want to have a long talk with you. I want to know your ambitions and your plans.

I have determined to see you get all the education you can eat, drink, and otherwise stuff into your system. Now, be satisfied for the moment, until we discuss the matter."

Dale's eyes and cheeks showed the grateful effect of the old gentleman's words. He wanted to thank him, but, not knowing quite how, remained silent; and in this way the three entered the overgrown gate of Arden.

CHAPTER VIII

THE INCONSEQUENT ENGINEER

Uncle Zack's watchful eyes discerned the returning riders and busily he went to prepare juleps, while, at the same time, a company of little darkies dashed past the house eager to lead the horses stableward.

This aroused a man who had been day-dreaming on the deep, cool porch.

His feet were comfortably perched on the seat of an opposite chair, and an open book lay face down on his lap. Within convenient reaching distance stood a silver goblet topped with sprigs of mint. He was dressed in immaculate white, a suit which showed the character of expert tailorship when subjected to the arm and leg stretch of the frantic yawn he now deliberately enjoyed. For young Mr. Brent McElroy was as well groomed as he was good to look upon. Although Bod had called him the laziest chap in clothes, and Miss Liz had berated his lack of ambition, and all had sometimes resented his ironies, a very critical glance at his face would have belied these faults. For his chin was cast in a good mould, and his eyes looked at one with steady, honest interest. They were spirited, but tender, and a trained observer would have found in them a deep, lingering hunger for something which seemed not to have come. He would also have found strength in the mouth, ordinarily too cynical.

Brent managed to get along pretty well with everything but work, and in severing diplomatic relations with this he usually found himself persona non grata with Jane and her strongest ally, Miss Liz. For Jane, more than all of them, realized the blessings a railroad would bring to her people in that wild area beyond Snarly k.n.o.b. She knew how each artery leading from the virgin heart of those mountains, carrying to the world its stream of warmth, would return twofold riches to the benighted denizens of their antiquity. She knew that through each vein from the distant centers of the world's culture would flow back a broader understanding of life, its responsibilities, ambitions, opportunities.

To her, the little road was a savior, to such a degree G.o.d-sent, that it seemed a sacrilege to let it halt. Moreover, since Brent came, she felt that the Colonel had been given fresh inspiration to imbibe. It had not occurred to her to reverse this indictment, which might have been done with an equal amount of truth. At any rate, she had lost patience with the good-looking engineer, while the Colonel was finding him more and more attractive.

He arose now as the men dismounted, stretched again, and smiled down at them.

"Ah, sir," the Colonel cried, "I'm glad you are home in time to join us!"

"I've just been joining," he laughed, "but, of course, if you can't get along without me--" he waved a hand toward his empty goblet. Uncle Zack had made provision for this--Uncle Zack, who believed that a thoroughbred gentleman should always be "jes' a li'l bit toddied up."

Dale stood at the bottom step staring with the open curiosity characteristic of his kind, and convinced that he was gazing upon the most elegant gentleman in all creation. No detail of the toilette escaped his minute scrutiny--from the white buckskin shoes to the white cravat, from the immaculate linen to the flashing teeth; and for a second time that day his eyes lowered to pa.s.s slowly over the crudeness of his own attire.

The Colonel saw this and smiled, but it was not a mirthful smile. His former interest had become quickened by this helpless and pathetic look, and mentally he strengthened a previous resolution.

"Brent," he said, "I want you to know Dale Dawson! Mr. McElroy," he turned to the still staring mountaineer, "is staying with me, and making a survey for the railroad we hope to see running through here before long, sir."

"I hain't never seed a train but onct," Dale exclaimed, shaking hands with more open admiration. "Then hit 'most scared the gizzard outen me!

How do ye make 'em?"

"Oh," Brent laughed, "screws, and nuts, and hammers, and things. But I don't make trains, old fellow; I'm just making the survey!"

"Good-bye everybody!" Bob gurgled, swinging into the saddle. The Colonel called him sternly back.

"Now, Bob," he whispered, stepping out to the tanbark drive, "you've no right to leave me like this, sir. I can't put up with it, I tell you!

Why, G.o.d bless my soul, the fellow hasn't a rag except what's on his back! Must I ask him to sleep in the stable, sir? Those mountain people are sensitive to the very core, you know that, and his feelings would be immeasurably hurt if he suspected I complain of his clothes. But, Bob, it's impossible! You're both of a size; help an old man out--there's a good fellow!"

"I'll do anything but stay here and disgrace myself," Bob a.s.sured him.

"Tactfully, sir, tactfully," the Colonel warned.

"Trust me to do it tactfully," Bob whispered. "I'm not out to get shot."

And turning to the porch he called: "Dale, like to ride over and meet my family? You might get a word with Miss Jane about the school, too!"

There was no reply to this except a quick step toward the old white mare.

"Will hit be all right ter leave my rifle hyar, Cunnel?" he asked, with one foot in the stirrup.

"Certainly, sir," that gentleman gave cheery acquiescence. "But take my horse. Your own seems tired."

"Yourn _air_ faster," he nodded, pa.s.sing unnoticed Lucy's invitation to be caressed and rising into the Colonel's saddle. There was something pathetic in the wistful way she looked after him, whinnying twice or three times in a sudden panic of apprehension. The old gentleman stroked her nose, murmuring:

"I don't think he ought to have done it just that way, old faithful. But if I read the signs correctly you'd better get used to it now. There'll be plenty more times."

Bob called from the gate: "Send Zack over; I want my hair cut!" And the Colonel, understanding, waved his hand as they again cantered away--Dale in advance, and the young planter evidently cautioning him to spare his horse in the noon hour heat.

"Who's Bob's anthropoid friend?" Brent asked, as he and the Colonel now stretched in their chairs.

"A young man from the mountains, violently in search of an education. He will be asking you every question in the range of thought, Brent, and I hope you will have patience with him. It's such a pity to see one so hungry for knowledge--really starving for it--while the whole wide board before him holds more than enough for all!"

"He's welcome to banquet on my feast of reason, but he'll get mighty tired of it. Do you think he's serious?"

The Colonel smiled at this from Brent.

"It has been my observation that believing in people usually brings out their best," he answered, "and so I think he is serious. I hope you will, also."

"You bet I will," Brent cordially agreed, burying his nose in the mint.

"He's all right;--I like him!"

After a moment of affectionate contemplation of his own julep, the Colonel said:

"Bob's household will be over to dinner tonight. I trust you can be with us, sir!"

Before he could reply, Miss Liz appeared in the doorway, and both men arose with courtly bows. When Brent had arranged a place for her--and the Colonel had slipped into the house holding the telltale goblet under his coat--this severe lady, balancing on the chair with prim nicety, raised her lorgnette and observed: