SOWING THE WIND
The noonday meal was a rather quiet, constrained affair. None of the
three was in a talkative mood, Donald was still distrait, Big Jerry
obviously in physical and mental distress, and Rose too full of troubled
sympathy for conversation. Frequently Donald caught her gaze fixed on
the old man's face with an expression of unutterable love; and as often,
when she saw him watching her, her face lighted for a moment with a
tender, compassionate smile.
The eagerly anticipated vacation and reunion had truly begun badly, and
it was with a sense of relief that Donald finished the simple dinner,
and announced that he guessed he would go for a little tramp in the
woods, while Rose was performing her household tasks.
"Hain't yo' ergoin' ter tote yo'r rifle-gun?" queried Big Jerry, as he
noticed that the doctor was leaving the house without a weapon.
"No, not this trip. I'm not in a mood for hunting. All I want is a
walk,--and a stout club and Mike will be protection enough against
anything in these woods. Good-by, Smiles. I'll be back before
supper-time, hungry as a bear."
He left the clearing for the virgin woods at random, striding along
briskly and with rising spirits, and at first unmindful of the direction
that he was taking.
In fact he had, subconsciously--even in his recreation--refused to
follow the easiest way, and had struck out on the up-mountain trail.
* * * * *
For a while Donald walked on, regardless of whither. Then the
consciousness of the fact that he was in a--to him--unknown part of the
mountain, and nearing the summit, brought with it a recollection of the
words spoken that morning by little Lou, "Judd air erway ergin ... up in
the mountain."
Still, he kept on, for, although he told himself that he had not the
slightest intention of seeking the mountaineer, or the solution of
Smiles' troubled look, and most certainly was not courting trouble,
purposeless curiosity impelled him higher and higher into the hitherto
unexplored fastnesses. Now the timberlands lay beneath him, for,
although the hardy laurel continued in profusion, albeit somewhat dried
and withered, the trees were thinning out and becoming more scraggly,
and more frequently the naked rocks, split and seamed, thrust themselves
up through the baked soil, "like vertebrae in the backbone of the
mountain," thought Donald. Now they were toned and softened by moss and
lichen; now barren of vegetation, rugged and gaunt, split asunder by the
ancient elements. In the distress which had come like a cloud over the
sunlight of his spirits, so gayly anticipative a few hours previous,
they flung a wordless challenge to the battling instinct in the man, and
he accepted it with the thought that the best balm for troubled minds is
strenuous bodily action.
Eager and joyous over the new game, Mike tore about, panting, and
dashing from side to side through the underbrush on real, or imaginary,
scents, now stopping to dig madly for a moment, then racing on to catch
up with his master, who frequently had to haul him over the precipitous
crags by the shaggy hair on his muscular back.
The air was cooler here, and as invigorating as wine; the sky was a
transparent blue.
At last, somewhat tired of pushing his way over rocks and through virgin
underbrush with no objective, he was on the point of turning to retrace
his footsteps, when Mike stopped short with nose a-quiver and bristles
lifting on his neck.
"What's up?" asked the man. As usual he addressed the dog as though he
were a sentient being. "Trouble ahead? Some wild animal there, old boy?"
But, instead of retreating, he grasped his cudgel more firmly, and
cautiously parted the thick bushes in front of him.
To his surprise, Donald found that he was almost on the edge of a sharp
declivity leading down into a natural bowl-like hollow, so shut in with
high rocks and underbrush that it was, in effect, a retreat almost as
good as a cave for concealment. And that it was so used, or had been at
some time, was made evident by the presence of a rude hut, little more
than a lean-to since one end was wholly open, which snuggled against the
further bank.
With growing curiosity and caution, he worked his way along the edge,
for now a faint odor of wood-smoke reached his nostrils, and there came
to his ears the sound of some one, or something, moving within the
shelter, a presence which the dog had apparently detected much sooner
than had his master.
At length he reached a point of vantage, partly hidden by a cleft rock,
from which he could look fully into the interior of the shack. It was
obviously not a habitation, although a fire was burning briskly within
it. Near by stood a small keg or two, what appeared to be a large tub or
vat, and, over the fire, was a queer metal object, the shape of which
caused Donald to wonder for a brief instant if necromancy still existed,
and he had stumbled upon the retreat of a mountain wizard. Almost
immediately, however, the true explanation flashed through his mind.
It was a crude illicit distillery--the hidden "still" of a mountain
moonshiner! At the same moment a tall man in typical mountain costume
moved into view and bent over the fire.
In his interest Donald had forgotten Mike; but, at the appearance of the
man, his companion gave voice to a sharp and hostile challenge.
The furtive toiler turned like a flash, and, seizing the rifle which
leaned against the wall near at hand, sprang out and levelled it at the
intruder whose head was visible above the rock, for he had been too much
surprised to move.
"Put up yo'r hands!" he cried, and Donald complied with the order
without perceptible hesitation, at the same time pushing into full
sight. The man below was Judd!
For a moment neither spoke, and the silence was pregnant with serious
possibilities. Then Donald regained partial control of his shaken
self-possession, and with his hands still held above his head, slid
awkwardly down into a sitting posture on the edge of the bank.
"Do you know, Judd," he remarked at last, with an assumption of
coolness. "I thought _that_ sort of thing had ceased to exist, even in
these wild mountains," and he nodded toward the distillery.
"I allows thet yo' hev er habit of thinkin' wrong," was the surly
response. "You haint no doctor man. Thet's er blind. Yo' be er revenuer,
I reckon, an' es sich I've got ter put er bullet inter ye."
"Don't be a fool," snapped Donald, even in this dangerous predicament
unable to resort to conciliatory words when addressing Judd. "I'm
nothing of the sort, and you know it."
There was another spell of nerve-racking silence. Then the outlaw said
slowly, "I reckon yo' speaks ther truth. Yo' haint smart ernough fer er
revenuer. One er them wouldn't come er still-huntin' 'thout er
rifle-gun, an' _with_ er barkin' dawg."
"Well, I'm glad that's settled," answered Donald, uttering a forced
laugh. "My arms are getting tired, held up like this, and, as you have a
rifle and I haven't, I suggest that I be allowed to resume a more
natural position."
Without waiting for the permission, he dropped his hands to the bank
beside him.
Donald's action placed Judd in an obviously unpleasant dilemma. He knew
it, and therein lay the intruder's best chance.
"I haint never shot er man in cold blood erfore, but I reckon I've got
ter do hit now," he said sullenly. "Yo' know too damned much erbout
sartain things what don't consarn ye."
"If they don't concern me--as I am willing to admit--why waste a
bullet?" answered Donald, mentally sparring for time. "As a law-abiding
citizen I might reasonably feel that you still ought to be put out of
existence; but, it's no hunt of mine, since I'm not a federal officer. I
haven't any particular desire to get a bullet through me, and I know
perfectly well that you don't care for the thought of adding the crime
of murder to the misdemeanor of illicit liquor making."
"I haint erfeerd ter shoot ye," blustered Judd, and added significantly,
"Yo're body wouldn't never be found, and yo' wouldn't be ther first
pryin' stranger what got lost in these hyar hills, and warn't never
heard of more."
"Admitted. But what's to be gained in taking the chance? I'm ready--yes,
anxious--to give you my word of honor that I'll forget what I've
stumbled on here this afternoon. Come, be reasonable, Judd."
"Wall, ef you'll swa'r thet ..." began the mountaineer dubiously.
"I do," broke in Donald with undisguised eagerness. "I solemnly swear
never to tell a soul about the existence of this still, so help me God.
There, I hope that satisfies you. You need not be afraid of my not
keeping my oath, but just the same, I think you're a fool to do this.
You're almost sure to be caught at it, sooner or later, and a federal
prison isn't a particularly pleasant place."
"I don't reckerlect hevin' asked any advice from _yo'_," was Judd's
surly reply.
"Well, I don't expect that you'll follow it," answered the other, as he
scrambled to his feet. "And since we don't seem to hit it off very well
together, I guess I'll be starting along."
"No yo' won't ... leastwise not yet!" Judd's words came with crisp
finality, and were reinforced by a quick movement of his rifle to the
hip. "I haint through with ye yet, stranger. Last year I warned ye fair
thet this hyar mountain war an on-healthy place fer ye. 'Pears like yo'
didn't believe hit, but I means thet ye should this time. Erfore yo'
goes I'll hear ernother sworn promise from ye, an' I reckon yo' kin
guess what hit air."
"I can. And you're not going to get it. No, by God, not if you put a
coward's bullet into me for refusing," burst out Donald, with his
pent-up anger breaking its bounds at the other's dictatorial demands. "I
agreed that what you did with your time wasn't my business, but what I
do with mine, is. And I don't take orders from you in the matter,
understand?"
The mountaineer's lips drew back, his body quivered, and the finger on
the rifle's trigger trembled.
Above him, Donald stood equally tense and pale. He felt that he should
be praying as he had never prayed before, but wrath possessed his spirit
wholly, and his mind was completely concentrated on that lean
forefinger, whose slightest tension meant death. Moments like these come
but once in the lifetime of the average man, if, indeed, they ever come
at all; but, when they do, when he suddenly finds himself face to face
with some cataclysmic upheaval in human or external nature that
threatens to rend the thin but impenetrable curtain which separates him
from eternity, the salient characteristic of his being is unmasked and
stands forth, naked. If he be at heart a coward, even though he may
honestly never have suspected himself of cowardice, he will try to flee,
or cringe and grovel for mercy; if his soul is stayed upon the immortal
and everlasting truths, he will face what Fate may hold with the
resigned fortitude which was the martyrs'; but, if he is merely a man,
strong with the courage of the beast, refined and strengthened in the
fires of intellect, he will be more likely to stand his ground
unflinchingly and cast his defiance in the teeth of the danger which
threatens, wrathful, but unafraid.
Donald was of the latter breed. He made no move; but the cords and veins
in his muscular neck and hands swelled visibly, and his dark gray eyes
took on a steely glint, as they bored steadily into Judd's glowering
black ones.
Suddenly, with a deep oath, the mountaineer dropped the butt of his gun
to the ground. Both men breathed a deep sigh, and the latter said: "No,
I kaint shoot an unarmed man, even ef he _air_ a skunk. But hark ye. I
warns ye now fer the last time. Clar out uv this hyar mountain terday,
er go armed an' ready, fer, by Gawd A'mighty, I aims ter shoot ye dead
the next time I meets ye. Hit's yo' er me now."
When the other dropped his weapon, Donald had almost decided to make an
attempt to clear the atmosphere by telling him again that his suspicions
were utterly groundless and that, so far from having any intention of
stealing the affections of the mountain child whom Judd loved, he was
betrothed to another. But, at the challenge to fight, something, which
he could neither explain afterwards nor control then, swept away the
half-formed resolve, and the heat of primal hate sent a burning flush
through him and drove cool reason utterly from its throne.
"If you didn't have that gun, you damned coward, I'd come down there
this instant, and thrash you within an inch of your worthless life," he
shouted, heedless of consequences; too angry to care what might happen.
And simultaneously, spurred on by his own blind passion, he slid down
the bank and, with fists clenched, advanced on Judd. A yard ahead of him
bristled Mike, a canine fury with gleaming teeth bared and muscles
tensed for a spring. His master's quarrel was his also.
"Call off thet damned dawg, ef yo' don't want fer him ter git shot,"
raged the other, white with anger. "I reckon thet the time _hes_ come
fer me ter teach ye a lesson; p'raps then a rifle bullet won't be nowise
necessary. Yo' tie up thet devil, an' I'll hev it out with ye, now."
Wrath robbed him, too, of all caution and he flung his gun far to one
side as Donald, with hands that trembled so violently that he could
barely tie the knots, slipped his handkerchief through Mike's collar and
fastened him securely to a stout bush. Then he faced the infuriated
mountaineer.
"Hit's yo' er me," panted the latter, assuming a pantherlike crouch.
"Let it go at that," answered the city man, dropping naturally into a
fighting position.
The veneer of our vaunted civilization is, at the best, thin, and every
man, in whose veins runs red blood, has within him pent-up volcanic
forces which require but little awakening to produce a soul-shattering
upheaval. Donald knew that his being shouted aloud for battle--why, he
didn't pause to analyze. Judd knew full well what _he_ was fighting
for. It was the woman whom his heart had claimed as his mate, regardless
of what his chances of winning her were.
In college days, Donald had been a trained athlete, and he was still
exceptionally powerful, although city life and his confining work had
robbed his muscles of some of the flexibility and strength which had
once been theirs, and were now possessed by those of his opponent. In
weight, and knowledge of the science of boxing, he far surpassed Judd;
but these odds were evened by the fact that _his_ mind--thoroughly
aroused though it was--held only a desire to punish the other severely,
whereas Judd's passion burned deeper; blood-lust was in his heart and he
saw red. Nothing would satisfy him short of killing the man who seemed
to be the personification of his failure to win Smiles.
The mountaineer opened the fight with a furious rush. Donald
instinctively side-stepped, and met it with a jolting short-arm blow to
the other's lean jaw, which sent the aggressor to the ground.
Like a flash he was up again, wild to close with his rival and get his
fingers about his throat. There, in the little natural amphitheatre,
with only the ancient trees as silent witnesses, was staged again the
oft-fought fight between the boxer and the battler, but the decision was
not to rest on points. No Marquis of Queensberry rules governed, no
watchful referee was present to disqualify one or the other for unfair
tactics.