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"SMILES"
A ROSE OF THE CUMBERLANDS
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By ELIOT H. ROBINSON
"SMILES": A Rose of the Cumberlands . . . $1.90
SMILING PASS: Being a Further Account
of the Career of "Smiles": A Rose of the
Cumberlands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $1.90
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THE MAID OF MIRABELLE: A Romance
of Lorraine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $1.90
MAN PROPOSES; or, The Romance of
John Alden Shaw . . . . . . . . . . . . . $1.90
GO GET 'EM! The True Adventures of an
American Aviator of the Lafayette Flying
Corps . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $1.50
By Eliot H. Robinson and Lieutenant
William A. Wellman.
WITH OLD GLORY IN BERLIN; or, The
Story of an American Girl's Life and
Trials in Germany and Her Escape from
the Huns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $2.00
By Eliot H. Robinson and Josephine
Therese.
THE PAGE COMPANY
53 BEACON STREET, BOSTON
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[Illustration: "A MAN AND A WOMAN--AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING" (See
Page 374)]
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"SMILES"
A ROSE OF THE CUMBERLANDS
BY
ELIOT H. ROBINSON
Author of "Man Proposes"
ILLUSTRATED BY
H. WESTON TAYLOR
THE PAGE COMPANY
BOSTON--PUBLISHERS
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Copyright, 1919, by
The Page Company
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London
All rights reserved
First Impression, May, 1919
Second Impression, June, 1919
Third Impression, July, 1919
Fourth Impression, August, 1919
Fifth Impression, September, 1919
Sixth Impression, October, 1919
Seventh Impression, December, 1919
Eighth Impression, February, 1920
Ninth Impression, September, 1920
Tenth Impression, August, 1921
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TO MY BOYS
This Story of a Girl
Who Loved Children
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
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The Keynote of Life is Love--
Lacking it, naught is worth while--
The Symbol of Service, the Cross
And the Sign of Courage, A Smile.
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AN ACKNOWLEDGMENT
I wish to acknowledge, most gratefully, the valuable assistance rendered
to me, in the preparation of the chapters dealing with the medical and
hospital incidents, by Robert W. Guiler, M.D.; by Alonzo J. Shadman,
M.D., to whom I am indebted for my description of the unusual operation
in Chapter XXI; and by Miss Elizabeth E. Sullivan, Superintendent of
Nurses at the Boston Children's Hospital. And, above all, I desire to
make acknowledgment of the debt of gratitude that I owe to Mr. Henry
Wightman Packer for his helpful criticism throughout the writing of this
story.
ELIOT HARLOW ROBINSON.
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. DONALD MACDONALD, M.D. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
II. ENTER BIG JERRY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
III. AN INNOCENT SERPENT IN EDEN . . . . . . . . . . . 25
IV. "SMILES" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
V. GIVING AND RECEIVING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
VI. AN UNACCEPTED CHALLENGE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
VII. "SMILES'" GIFT AND THE "WRITING" . . . . . . . . . 66
VIII. SOME OF SEVERAL EPISTLES . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
IX. THE HIGH HILLS, AND "GOD'S MAN" . . . . . . . . . 91
X. "SMILES'" CONSECRATION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101
XI. ADOPTION BY BLOOD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
XII. THE THREE OF HEARTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122
XIII. GATHERING CLOUDS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129
XIV. SOWING THE WIND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
XV. REAPING THE WHIRLWIND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
XVI. THE AFTERMATH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164
XVII. THE PARTING PLEDGE AND PASSING DAYS . . . . . . . 171
XVIII. THE ADDED BURDEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179
XIX. "SMILES'" APPEAL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190
XX. THE ANSWER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200
XXI. A MODERN MIRACLE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 216
XXII. VICARIOUS ATONEMENT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225
XXIII. TWO LETTERS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235
XXIV. NEW SCENES, NEW FRIENDS . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241
XXV. THE FIRST MILESTONE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 256
XXVI. THE CALL OF THE RED CROSS . . . . . . . . . . . . 264
XXVII. THE GOAL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277
XXVIII. "BUT A ROSE HAS THORNS" . . . . . . . . . . . . . 294
XXIX. AN INTERLUDE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309
XXX. DONALD'S HOMECOMING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 316
XXXI. THE VALLEY OF INDECISION . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329
XXXII. THE STORM AND THE SACRIFICE . . . . . . . . . . . 341
XXXIII. WHAT THE CRICKET HEARD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 350
XXXIV. A LOST BROTHER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 361
XXXV. THE HALLOWED MOON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 370
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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"A man and a woman--as it was in the
beginning" (See Page 374) . . . . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece
"One dusty, but dainty, foot was held
between her hands" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
"She was kneeling beside a low, rounded mound" . . . . . . 48
"Read the brief article twice, mechanically,
and almost without understanding" . . . . . . . . . . . . . 298
"Holding the girl in clinging white close to him" . . . . . 347
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CHAPTER I
DONALD MACDONALD, M.D.
The man came to a stop, a look of humiliation and deep self-disgust on
his bronzed face. With methodical care he leaned his rifle against the
seamed trunk of a forest patriarch and drew the sleeve of his hunting
shirt across his forehead, now glistening with beads of sweat; then, and
not until then, did he relieve his injured feelings by giving voice to a
short but soul-satisfying expletive.
At the sound of his deep voice the dog, which had, panting, dropped at
his feet after a wild, purposeless dash through the underbrush, looked
up with bright eyes whose expression conveyed both worship and a
question, and, as the man bent and stroked his wiry coat, rustled the
pine needles with his stubby tail.
The picture held no other animate creatures, and no other sound
disturbed the silence of the woods.
By the hunter's serviceable nickeled timepiece the afternoon was not
spent; but the sun was already swinging low over the western
mountaintop, and its slanting rays, as they filtered through the leafy
network overhead, had begun to take on the richer gold of early evening,
and the thick forest foliage of oddly intermingled oak and pine, beech
and poplar, was assuming deeper, more velvety tones. There was solemn
beauty in the scene; but, for the moment, the man was out of tune with
the vibrant color harmonies, and he frankly stated the reason in his
next words, which were addressed to his unlovely canine companion, whose
sagacity more than compensated for his appealing homeliness.
"Mike, we're lost!"
City born and bred though he was, the man took a not unjustifiable pride
in the woodcraft which he had acquired during many vacations spent in
the wilds; hence it was humiliating to have to admit that fact--even to
his dog. To be sure, the fastnesses of the border Cumberlands were new
to him; but his vanity was hurt by the realization that he had tramped
for nearly an hour through serried ranks of ancient trees and crowding
thickets of laurel and rhododendron--which seemed to take a personal
delight in impeding the progress of a "furriner"--and over craggy rocks,
only to find, at the end of that time, that he was entering one end of a
short ravine from the other end of which he had started with the vague
purpose of seeking the path by which he had climbed from the valley
village.
Moreover, a subtle change was taking place in the air. Faint breezes,
the sighing heralds of advancing evening, were now beginning to steal
slowly out from the picturesque, seamed rocks of the ravine and from
behind each gnarled or stately tree, with an unmistakable warning.
There was clearly but one logical course for him to pursue--head
straight up the mountainside until he should arrive at some commanding
clearing whence he could recover his lost bearings and establish some
landmarks for a fresh start downward. With his square jaw set in a
decisive manner, the man picked up his gun, threw back his heavy
shoulders, and began to climb, driving his muscular body forcibly
through the underbrush.
The decision and the action were both characteristic of Donald
MacDonald, in whose Yankee veins ran the blood of a dour and purposeful
Scottish clan. Aggressive determination showed in every lineament of his
face, of which his nearest friend, Philip Bentley, had once said, "The
Great Sculptor started to carve a masterpiece, choosing granite rather
than marble as his medium, and was content to leave it rough hewn."
Every feature was strong and rugged, which gave his countenance an
expression masterful to the point of being almost surly when it was in
repose; but it was a face which caused most men--and women over
thirty--to turn for a second glance.
To-day, the effect of strength was further enhanced by a week's growth
of blue-black beard. But his eyes, agate gray and flecked with the green
of the "moss" variety, were the real touchstones of his character, and
they belied the stern lines of his mouth and chin and spoke eloquently
of a warm, kindly heart within the powerful body, a body which, to the
city dweller, suggested the fullback on a football team. Indeed, such he
had been in those days when great power counted more heavily than speed
and agility. Not but that he possessed these attributes as well, in a
degree unusual in one who tipped the scales at one hundred and ninety.
To some it seemed an inexplicable anomaly that a man of his type should
have selected, as the work to which he had dedicated his life, the
profession of medicine, and still more strange that he had become a
specialist in the diseases of children. Yet such was the case, and many
a mother, whose heartstrings were plucked by the lean fingers of
Despair, had cause to bless the almost uncanny surgical skill which his
highly-trained brain exercised through the medium of his big, spatulate,
gentle fingers.
As "Mac" had, in the old days, smashed his way through the opposing line
of blue-jerseyed giants on the football field, and as he now plowed
through the laurel and rhododendron, so had he won his way to the
forefront of the younger generation of his profession until, at the age
of thirty-five, he had become recognized as one of the most able
children's specialists in America. A "man's man," blunt of speech to the
point of often offending at first the cultured women with whom his
labors brought him into contact, he was worshipped in hundreds of homes
as an angel of mercy in strange guise, and was the idol of hundreds of
little folk to whom he had brought new health and happiness.
The toilsome upward climb brought its reward at length, and Donald's eye
caught sight of a clearing, and unmistakable signs of near-by
civilization, if a scattering mountain settlement of primitive dwellers
in that feudal country which lies half in West Virginia, half in
Kentucky, may be so designated.
No sooner had he stepped into the partially cleared land, and caught
sight of a small, isolated cabin beyond, so toned by wind and weather
that it seemed almost an integral part of its natural surroundings, than
his own presence was detected, as the sharp and surly barking of an
unseen dog evidenced. Mike made answer to the challenge, and instantly
other, more distant, canine voices joined in the growing clamor.
As man and dog advanced across the clearing, not one, but half a dozen
gaunt curs, summoned to the spot by a warning which meant the approach
of a stranger, much as their clannish masters might have been in other
years, mysteriously appeared from all sides and rushed forward, their
lips drawn back from threatening teeth, their bristling throats rumbling
ominously.
Donald sharply commanded the likewise bristling Mike to keep to heel,
threw his rifle to hip and backed hastily toward the cabin. He had no
wish to employ his weapon, and as retreat was the other alternative, for
his companion's sake, if not his own, indeed, discretion seemed to be,
by all odds, valor's better part.
A noisy and exciting moment brought him to the cabin's door, still face
to the enemy. Fumbling behind him with his left hand, Donald found and
lifted the latch. The door swung suddenly open under his weight, Mike
scurried between his legs, and the combination resulted in his downfall,
precipitate and sprawling.
Simultaneously came a startled exclamation in a treble voice, the
clatter of a fallen kettle and then a quick cry of pain.
In an instant Donald had scrambled ungracefully to his feet and found
himself face to face with a picture that he was destined never to
forget.
Backed by a big stone fireplace, in which the embers were glowing
ruddily, stood a young girl clad in a simple one-piece dress, which left
neck, arms and legs bare. One dusty, but dainty, foot was held between
her hands, while she balanced on the other. A tumbling mass of rich
brown curls, shot with gleaming threads like tiny rays of captive
sunshine, fell, unbound, over her shoulders, and partly veiled a
childlike face, tanned to an Indian brown and now twisted with pain, but
nevertheless so startlingly sweet and appealing that the man gasped in
astonishment.
[Illustration: "ONE DUSTY, BUT DAINTY, FOOT WAS HELD BETWEEN HER
HANDS"]
As it is with many who wear bluntness like a cloak, Donald possessed a
deep-seated appreciation of the beautiful, without being capable of
expressing it. But now he vaguely realized that here, where he would
last have looked for it, he had blundered upon a child whom Mother
Nature had designed lovingly and with painstaking care, perhaps in order
to satisfy herself that, in the bustle of creation which nowadays left
her little time for attention to fine detail, her hands had not wholly
lost the cunning which was theirs when the world was young and women
were few and fair.
Her face had the qualities of a sweet wild-flower, delicate of form yet
hardy enough to stand up under the stress of a storm. A critic might
have declared the sensitive mouth a shade too broad for the tapering
lines which formed the firmly rounded chin; he might have said that the
upper lip, against which its companion was now tightly pressed to check
its trembling, was too short for classic beauty; but he would hardly
have been able to find a flaw in the molding of the straight, slender
nose or the broad forehead, or the cheeks which curved as symmetrically
as the petals of a damask rose, or--if he were human--with the faint
shadows at the corners of the lips which were not dimples, but
fascinatingly suggested them. But, above all, it was the child's eyes,
heavy with a sudden rush of unshed tears that merely added to their
appealing charm, which left the strongest impression on the man. They
were remarkable eyes, long of lash and of a deep blue with limpid
purple shadows and golden highlights.
Her form, untrammelled by confining clothing and bending naturally, was
slender and lithesome, but full of curves which told that the bud of
childhood was just beginning to open into the blossom of early
maturity--about fifteen or sixteen years old, Donald guessed her to be.
At her feet lay an overturned kettle the contents from which, a simple
stew, was sending up a cloud of steam from the rough floor, and
explained the reason for the misty eyes and tenderly nursed ankle.
The whole picture was graven on his mind in a single glance; but, the
next instant the sunniest, most appealing of smiles broke through the
girl's pain-drawn tears.
"Yo' ... yo' looked so funny a-fallin' over thet thar dawg, an'
a-rollin' on the floor," her words bubbled forth.
"I'm glad that you have something to laugh about, but dev ... deucedly
sorry that I made you burn yourself, child," answered Donald, awkwardly.
"It must hurt like the ... the mischief," he added, as he stepped
forward to examine the injury with a quick return to his professional
manner.
"Wall, hit _do_ burn, kinder. But taint nothin'." She sniffed bravely,
but a tear overflowed its reservoir and made a channel through a smudge
on her cheek.
"Well, I happen to be a doctor--when I'm not on a vacation--so I can do
a little toward repairing the damage I caused." He was already
unfastening the small first-aid kit which experience had taught him
never to go without.
"Taint nothin', sir, really. I'll jest put some lard on hit, an' ..."
began the girl, timidly backing away.
Donald did not stop to argue, but placed his strong hands on either side
of her slender waist and lifted her lightly to the homemade table, while
she gasped and again the wonderful smile, more shy this time,
transformed her tear-stained face. In silence, and with flying,
experienced fingers, the physician applied a soothing salve to the
blotchy red, fast-swelling burn on the ankle, and deftly bandaged it.
"There," he said. "You won't know, in a few minutes, that anything has
happened."
"Thank ye, sir," said the girl, as he lifted her again and allowed her
to slip gently to the floor. "Yo' shore knows how ter do up a foot."
She hopped gingerly over to the fireplace, and began to clear up the
wreck of supper, first calmly lifting the dog away from the steaming hot
meat which his quivering nose was inquisitively approaching.
"Be careful. Mike might ..."
"Oh, he won't bite _me_." She broke into his warning, and gave a playful
tug at the coarse hair on the animal's neck. Somewhat to Donald's
surprise, the dog wiggled ecstatically at the friendly advances and paid
his lowly homage by licking her bare foot.
"Never mind that mess, I'll clean it up if you'll get me a shovel. And
of course I mean to pay for it," said Donald hastily.
"In course yo' won't do no sech thing. We-all's got plenty uv
pertaties,--I growed 'em myself,--this yere meat haint hurt a mite, an'
water's cheap," she responded. "Yo' jest take a cheer, mister, an' yo'
kin hev supper along with us as soon as grandpap comes, which'll be
right soon, I reckon. We-all don't see stranger folks much up yere, an'
he'll be plumb glad thet ye drapped in." She tossed a morsel of meat to
the expectant Mike; then added shyly, "An' so be I."
"Well, I certainly 'drapped,'" laughed Donald. "It looked as though all
the dogs south of the Mason-Dixon line had gathered to give Mike and me
a warm, if not cordial, welcome, so we didn't stop to knock before
coming in."
"Lucky fer ye thet yo' struck a cabin whar the latch string air allus
out," she answered, her silver laughter echoing his. "I hadn't a' ought
ter hev been so skeered, but I warn't payin' no attention ter all the
barkin', fer I jest allowed thet the dawgs hed treed a coon, er somep'n.
Yo' see they haint exactly fond o' strangers, an' they be powerful
fierce. I reckon they'd hev gobbled Mike right up."
Donald glanced affectionately at the wiry mass of bone and sinew which
went to make the police dog every inch a warrior, and doubted it. The
child had finished her task, and started the stew to heating again over
the fire, and now she turned, swept back the mass of curls from her
heated face with a graceful motion of her shapely arm, and stood
regarding him with frank curiosity. Donald had no intention of
remaining longer, or accepting the hospitable invitation, but there
was a touch of romance in the adventure, and a strong appeal in the
girl herself, which caused him to hesitate, and linger to ask a few
questions about the neighborhood and her life. When he did regretfully
pick up his cap and rifle, and call the dog, who turned protestingly
from her-who-dispensed-savory-pieces-of-meat, he found that he had
suffered the fate of all who hesitate, for a glance through the window
showed him that, although the glowing, iridescent reflection from the
western sky still lingered in the mountain top, embroidering its edge
with gold, it was fast fading, and already Night had spread her dusky
mantle over the eastern slope. Already darkness had blotted out the
lower reaches.