The Boy from Hollow Hut Part 20

Every throbbing pulse beat became a prayer that she might be in time to save him.

Meanwhile Steve, upon leaving Mr. Follet, had not gone out into the street, but crossing the lawn into the driveway he went past the stable to the wood back of the house from whence he had come so many years ago. His mind and heart were in a tumult. He scarcely thought where he was going till he suddenly became conscious that he was in the old wood where he had rescued Nancy so long ago. Little Nancy! And he had loved her ever since consciously or unconsciously. But she was completely lost to him now,--that was final. The fair dream-structure which had risen anew that afternoon had fallen again in a tragic moment's s.p.a.ce. The mountain blood in Mr. Follet would never forget or forgive. He must leave the place forever. He was adrift again in the world. There would never be tender home ties for him,--he could never love another, no one could be a part of his very self like little Nancy. He dropped down upon a little seat which he had fixed there for her in the old days, and was lost in depressed thought, taking no note of how long he remained.

The stillness of the wood quieted him finally, as it had always done, and he remembered his old friends the Greelys. They would be glad to have him come in for breakfast in the morning, and for the night he would sleep in the Greely woods. He would feel very near to Nancy there, for that spot was hallowed by her memory as no other for him.

He rose and made his way over into the road which led to the wood.

It was a brilliant moonlight night, and he walked on under the majestic beauty of the firmament with quieted spirit.

Suddenly, as he had almost reached the wood, he heard rapid hoof-beats behind him and paused to listen, for it was a little-travelled road.

Nearer and nearer they came, and then he could distinguish a white dress fluttering in the wind from the flying animal's back and knew the rider must be a woman. The speed of the horse began to slacken as she was almost upon him, and he saw that it was Gyp and Nancy!

She also had recognized him, and the next instant she sprang from the pony and stood beside him.

"Oh, Steve," she panted, "they will kill you!" and stretched her shaking hands out to him. Her agitation was pitiable. Unconsciously he drew her instantly within his arms, while he said with equal unconsciousness:

"Why, Nancy, darling, what do you mean?"

For answer she dropped her head upon his breast and sobbed convulsively.

He held her close, stroking her face and soothing her with tenderest words of love till she was able to speak again.

"The moonshiners that father was to meet, Steve,--they are in the Greely wood, and they will think you are a revenue man and kill you sure," she said brokenly. "You were going there, weren't you?"

"Yes," he said gravely.

"Father thought you would and sent me for you. Oh, it was dreadful, the terror of it," she said shuddering and sobbing anew.

Again he soothed her with caresses and whispered, "But, sweetheart, you know I am not going there now,--not when I can hold you like this." And she nestled in his arms at last in quiet happiness.

Finally she lifted her head and smiled up at him. He turned her face up to the moon's full light and looked longingly into it.

"Nancy, do you love me?" he said.

"Oh, Steve, I've always loved you, I think," she softly replied.

"And it never was Raymond?" he went on insistently, his voice taking on a resonant ring.

"Not in the least," she returned. Then smiling demurely at him she said, "Oh, Steve, you weren't nearly so stupid in learning your letters!"

And he punished her with kisses.

"Do you remember," he said at last tenderly, looking over at the Greely wood, "that you asked me when a little girl to build a house for you and me over there where we might live always?"

"Yes," she said with a touch of sweet reluctance, "I confess I have always remembered that childish speech,--with an intuitive knowledge that I shouldn't have made it, I suppose."

"While I have always treasured it consciously or unconsciously," he returned, with eager joy creeping into the tenderness of his voice.

"You were a blessed little prophetess, for it is here under the shadow of the old wood that love has at last built for us the fairest, holiest structure earth ever knew."

Then they remembered the hour of the night and the anxiety of her father and mother, and started back down the road, Nancy saying she would like to walk a little and Steve leading Gyp, who had been unconcernedly grazing by the roadside.

After a time the lover went on again joyously:

"We have equal right to one another now, have we not, sweetheart, for if I saved you from possible death at the moment of our meeting, you have probably saved me from a tragic end to-night. It is the way of our mountain life," he added, his voice taking on a note of sadness; "our joy must always be mingled with tragedy until we learn the beautiful ways of peace."

Then he stopped again and turned her face up to the moonlight once more.

"Will you be content, dearest, to help me in the work I have chosen,--it will probably mean sacrifice,--the giving up of your ambitions."

She smiled back with a low, "More than content, if I may be always with you."

The next day Steve met Raymond on the street, and the latter was more serious than Steve had ever seen him.

"Well, old fellow," he said with an attempt at a smile, "you've licked me again. I know all about the sale of Greely Ridge and your narrow escape last night. Those two things, I admit, show me I am a good deal of a fool, and something of a cad as I used to be. I want you to know that the business with the moonshiners is all off. The other victory you've won over me I can't talk about. I acknowledge you deserve her though, more than I do, and I wish you luck."

Before Steve could reply he went on: "You got some hard knocks when you were a boy, Steve, and they did you good. That is when we need them most. These are the first real blows I have ever had. I've always been in for a good time and had it, but I don't believe it pays.

Father is going to be no end put out with me about the loss of that coal land. I'm going home and make a clean breast of it,--then I am going to clear out. I've decided this morning to write Mr. Polk and see if he has any chance for me there. I know he will give it to me, if he has, for father's sake."

"That is just the thing," said Steve heartily. "I feel sure he can take you in, and the game of business is so interesting there, I know you will like it, and I believe you will make good." He extended his hand with the last words and Raymond took it with a warm clasp.

Mr. Polk's mine was promptly opened up and proved to be a valuable property. In the formation of his company some shares had been placed in the name of Stephen Langly. At the end of two years they began to yield good returns and Steve felt that this, with the income from his work, would make comfort a.s.sured for Nancy. Then came a wedding in the Follet home, and just before the company arrived for the ceremony Mr.

and Mrs. Polk, her eyes shining as of old, slipped into the little parlour and placed on the carpet, for the bride and groom to stand upon, a beautiful fox-skin rug with a history.

Mr. Follet coming in a moment later nudged his wife excitedly and said:

"Can you tell where under the cano_pee_ you ever saw that before?"

while she nodded smiling a.s.sent.

It caught the eye of Steve as he entered with Nancy on his arm, and he took his place upon it with firm, glad step.

Mr. and Mrs. Polk were obliged to hurry away as soon as the congratulations were over, in order to get back to New York in time for the wedding of Raymond and Nita Trowbridge,--Raymond having well fulfilled Steve's prophecy of making good.

In the fall four years later when the mountains glowed with unusually brilliant colour, as though nature had caught the glory tints of fresh, bright hope for her people, Steve and Nancy opened a new school. Its well-equipped, modern buildings crowned the old wooded mountain of Steve's boyhood, and Steve the second, a st.u.r.dy boy, came daily with little Champ to school. The "still" had pa.s.sed away with the pa.s.sing of Champ, the elder, in a mountain fight, and a new day had dawned for Hollow Hut.

THE END