by John Fox
V
Awaiting dinner, the mountaineer and the "furriner" sat on the porchwhile Bub carved away at another pine dagger on the stoop. As Halepassed out the door, a querulous voice said "Howdye" from the bed inthe corner and he knew it was the step-mother from whom the little girlexpected some nether-world punishment for an offence of which he wasignorant. He had heard of the feud that had been going on between thered Falins and the black Tollivers for a quarter of a century, and thiswas Devil Judd, who had earned his nickname when he was the leader ofhis clan by his terrible strength, his marksmanship, his cunning and hiscourage. Some years since the old man had retired from the leadership,because he was tired of fighting or because he had quarrelled with hisbrother Dave and his foster-brother, Bad Rufe--known as the terror ofthe Tollivers--or from some unknown reason, and in consequence there hadbeen peace for a long time--the Falins fearing that Devil Judd wouldbe led into the feud again, the Tollivers wary of starting hostilitieswithout his aid. After the last trouble, Bad Rufe Tolliver had gone Westand old Judd had moved his family as far away as possible. Hale lookedaround him: this, then, was the home of Devil Judd Tolliver; the littlecreature inside was his daughter and her name was June. All around thecabin the wooded mountains towered except where, straight before hiseyes, Lonesome Creek slipped through them to the river, and the old manhad certainly picked out the very heart of silence for his home. Therewas no neighbour within two leagues, Judd said, except old Squire BillyBeams, who ran a mill a mile down the river. No wonder the spot wascalled Lonesome Cove.
"You must ha' seed Uncle Billy and ole Hon passin'," he said.
"I did." Devil Judd laughed and Hale made out that "Hon" was short forHoney.
"Uncle Billy used to drink right smart. Ole Hon broke him. She followedhim down to the grocery one day and walked in. 'Come on, boys--let'shave a drink'; and she set 'em up an' set 'em up until Uncle Billy mostwent crazy. He had hard work gittin' her home, an' Uncle Billy hain'tteched a drap since." And the old mountaineer chuckled again.
All the time Hale could hear noises from the kitchen inside. The oldstep-mother was abed, he had seen no other woman about the house and hewondered if the child could be cooking dinner. Her flushed face answeredwhen she opened the kitchen door and called them in. She had not onlycooked but now she served as well, and when he thanked her, as he didevery time she passed something to him, she would colour faintly. Onceor twice her hand seemed to tremble, and he never looked at her but herquestioning dark eyes were full upon him, and always she kept one handbusy pushing her thick hair back from her forehead. He had not asked herif it was her footprints he had seen coming down the mountain for fearthat he might betray her, but apparently she had told on herself, forBub, after a while, burst out suddenly:
"June, thar, thought you was a raider." The little girl flushed and theold man laughed.
"So'd you, pap," she said quietly.
"That's right," he said. "So'd anybody. I reckon you're the first manthat ever come over hyeh jus' to go a-fishin'," and he laughed again.The stress on the last words showed that he believed no man had yet comejust for that purpose, and Hale merely laughed with him. The old fellowgulped his food, pushed his chair back, and when Hale was through, hewasted no more time.
"Want to see that coal?"
"Yes, I do," said Hale.
"All right, I'll be ready in a minute."
The little girl followed Hale out on the porch and stood with her backagainst the railing.
"Did you catch it?" he asked. She nodded, unsmiling.
"I'm sorry. What were you doing up there?" She showed no surprise thathe knew that she had been up there, and while she answered his question,he could see that she was thinking of something else.
"I'd heerd so much about what you furriners was a-doin' over thar."
"You must have heard about a place farther over--but it's coming overthere, too, some day." And still she looked an unspoken question.
The fish that Hale had caught was lying where he had left it on the edgeof the porch.
"That's for you, June," he said, pointing to it, and the name as hespoke it was sweet to his ears.
"I'm much obleeged," she said, shyly. "I'd 'a' cooked hit fer ye if I'd'a' knowed you wasn't goin' to take hit home."
"That's the reason I didn't give it to you at first--I was afraid you'ddo that. I wanted you to have it."
"Much obleeged," she said again, still unsmiling, and then she suddenlylooked up at him--the deeps of her dark eyes troubled.
"Air ye ever comin' back agin, Jack?" Hale was not accustomed to thefamiliar form of address common in the mountains, independent of sex orage--and he would have been staggered had not her face been so serious.And then few women had ever called him by his first name, and this timehis own name was good to his ears.
"Yes, June," he said soberly. "Not for some time, maybe--but I'm comingback again, sure." She smiled then with both lips and eyes--radiantly.
"I'll be lookin' fer ye," she said simply.