Happy Valley was darkening now. The evening star shone white in the
last rosy western flush, and already lanterns glowed on the porch
of the "big house" where the dancing was to be. From high in the
shadows a voice came down to the girl:
"I hain't got a gun an' I hain't had a drink to-day. Hit's a shame
when Miss Hildy's always a-tryin' to give us a good time she has to
_beg_ us to behave."
The young folks were gathering in. On the porch she saw Polly Sizemore
in a chair and young King Camp slipping into the darkness on the other
side of the house. A few minutes later Ham Cage strolled into sight,
saw Polly, and sullenly dropped on the stone steps as far away from
her as possible. The little teacher planned a course of action.
"Ham," she said, as she passed, "I want you to run the first set with me."
Ham stared and she was rather startled by his flush.
"Yes'm," he stammered. A moment later young King reappeared at the other
end of the porch.
"King," she said, "I want you to run the second set with me," and King
too stared, flushed, and stammered assent, while Polly flashed indignation
at the little teacher's back. It had been Miss Mary's plan to break up the
hill custom of one boy and one girl dancing together all the time--and she
had another idea as well.
Pleasant Trouble swung into the circle of light from the porch just as
the first set started, and he sat down on the stone steps to look on. It
was a jolly dance. Some elderly folks were there to look on, and a few
married couples who, in spite of Miss Mary's persuasions, yet refused to
take part. It was soon plain that Polly Sizemore and the little teacher
were the belles of the ball, though of the two Polly alone seemed to
realize it. Pleasant could hardly keep his eyes off the Mission girl.
She was light as a feather, her eyes sparkled, her cheeks grew rosy,
her laugh rang out, and the flaming spirit of her was kindling fires
of which she never dreamed. Pleasant saw her dance first with Ham and
then with King, and he grinned with swift recognition of her purpose.
And he grinned the more when he saw that she was succeeding beyond her
realization--saw it by the rage in Polly's black eyes, which burned now
at Ham and now at King, for Miss Mary had no further need to ask either
of them to dance--one or the other was always at her side. Indeed the
Marquise, without knowing it, was making a pretty triangular mess of
things, and Pleasant chuckled unholily--chuckled until he saw things
were getting serious, and then his inner laughing ceased and his sharp
eyes got wary and watchful. For first Ham and then King would disappear
in the darkness, and each time they came back their faces were more
flushed and their dancing was more furious.
Now, Polly was winging arrows of anger at the little teacher, and
presently Pleasant rose lightly and with incredible swiftness swung
across the floor just as the climax came. From the other side Polly
too darted forward. Ham and King were glaring at each other over the
teacher's pretty head--each claiming the next dance. Miss Mary was
opening her mouth for a mild rebuke when the two boys sprang back,
the right hand of each flashing to his hip. King drew first, and
Pleasant's crutch swished down on his wrist, striking his pistol
to the floor. Polly had caught Ham's hand with both her own, and
Ham felt the muzzle of Pleasant's forty-four against his stomach.
"Stop it!" said Pleasant sternly. "Miss Mary don't like sech doin's."
So quickly was it on and over that the teacher hardly realized that
it had come on and was over. Her bewildered face paled, but the color
came back with a rush, and when her indignant eyes began their deadly
work Pleasant knew there was no further need of him, and he stepped
back as though to escape penalty even for playing peacemaker in a
way so rude.
"You--you--you two!" breathed Miss Mary helplessly, but only for
a moment.
"Give me that gun, Ham. Pick that one up, King." Both she handed to
Pleasant, and then--no torrent came. She turned with a wave of her hand.
"You can all go home now." There had been a moment of deadly quiet,
but in the mountains even boys and girls do not take such events very
seriously; the hubbub and tittering that had started again ceased again,
and all left quickly and quietly--all but the teacher, Pleasant, and the
two boys, for Polly too was moving away. King turned to go after her.
"Wait a moment, King," said Miss Mary, and Polly cried fiercely: "He can
stay till doomsday fer all o' me. I hain't goin' with ary one uv 'em."
And she flirted away.
"I am not going to talk to you two boys until to-morrow," said Miss Mary
firmly, "and then I'm going to put a stop to all this. I want both of you
to be here when school closes. I want you too, Pleasant, and I want you to
bring Lum Chapman."
Pleasant Trouble was as bewildered as the two shamefaced boys--did she
mean to have him hold a gun on the two boys while Lum, the blacksmith,
whaled them?
"Me?--Lum?--why, whut----"
"Never mind--wait till to-morrow. Will you all be here?"
"Yes'm," said all.
"Go with them up the river, Pleasant. Don't let them quarrel, and see
that each one goes up his own creek."
The two boys moved away like yoked oxen. At the bottom step Pleasant
turned to look back. Very rigid and straight the little teacher stood
under the lantern, and the pallor and distress of her face had given
way to a look of stern determination.
"Whew!" he breathed, and he turned a half-circle on his crutch into
the dark.