confidentially, "that Raymond told me this morning he was simply crazy
about her, he couldn't wait any longer, and was going to pop the
question to-night. I s'pose there ain't much question about it though,
for I reckon she's as much in love as he, though,--as I said, you
never can tell."
And he little suspected that what he said seemed to Steve the
death-knell to his hopes.
Mr. Follet continued loquaciously: "Raymond's the greatest fellow I
ever saw. Everybody likes him. Why, he's in with the moonshiners about
here hand and glove, and they're powerful offish. Never saw anything
under the cano_pee_ like him. He has big plans too, about some of the
land round here which he says is full of coal. He's looked a little
at the Greely Ridge; he thinks that's the finest piece, but he hasn't
been over it carefully yet--been too much in love, you know," and he
laughed contentedly.
Steve made conventional reply, and admitting he was quite tired, went
to the little attic for another restless, unhappy night.
If the good fairies had only visited his couch and whispered their
story of what was going on under the trees, how sweet would have been
his sleep! But they did not.
Next morning Steve announced at the breakfast table that he must be
leaving the following morning; a few days off from work for pleasure
was all he could take with good grace.
Mr. and Mrs. Follet expressed their regret, while Nancy's eyes were
upon her plate. Mr. Follet was complaining of some sciatic pain, but
tried to throw it off with his usual nervous energy.
"Nancy," he said, "you haven't taken Steve over to Borden's Cave,
which has been discovered since he was here. Why don't you go this
morning?"
"Why, I should be glad to," responded Nancy, and Steve, feeling that
her agreement was upon the basis of the old family relationship
between them, made no excuse, though he did not doubt, with the
fatality of anxious lovers, that the engagement had taken place. The
two started off with Gyp and the family horse for a three mile canter,
and Steve's spirit rose with the exhilaration of it in spite of
himself.
The cave proved to be a most interesting rock formation and when they
had examined it, Steve pointing out some curious scientific facts,
they sat down in the quiet woods upon a fallen tree trunk, while the
horses grazed.
Nancy looked up at him when they were seated, and said naively:
"How much you have learned in these last busy years!"
"Have I?" said Steve, his eyes brightening. "I am especially glad you
think I have used my time well, because I can never forget that it was
you who taught me my letters,--even how to spell my name," and he
turned kindling eyes upon her.
"Did I?" she said, laughing and flushing.
"Yes," he returned, and a bit of tenderness crept into his voice. "I
will never forget how you did it, how picturesquely you characterized
the various letters for me, how you thought curly S the very prettiest
letter in the alphabet, and how disappointed I was when I found my
poor name did not hold a single letter which belonged to yours," and
there was such deep pathos in the last words, as he looked far into
the distance, that she stirred uneasily and could make no answer.
After a moment he went on: "I suppose I read in it, even then, a
prophecy of our future, how yours must be separate from mine. There
could be nothing in common."
And still she was dumb; not a word came to her lips. But he seemed to
need no reply; a sad meditativeness was stealing upon him which made
him oblivious for the moment of his surroundings.
But suddenly setting his lips firmly, he turned and said with forced
lightness:
"What a bear bachelorhood makes of a man! I have spent so much time
alone the last few years that I am already acquiring the bad habit of
thinking my thoughts aloud sometimes. Forgive me, won't you?" And he
turned to her with more in the tone than the simple words could
convey.
"I have nothing to forgive," said she, but with an effort,--which he
misinterpreted.
Then gathering her wits she repeated, "I have nothing to forgive, but
everything for which to thank you. My starting you in the life
intellectual cannot compare with your finding me hanging by a mere
thread from a tall tree top and restoring me to the life physical,
without which my brilliant intellectual attainments would have been as
nothing," she ended gaily, breaking the tension which both had felt.
The talk continued to drift near the sacred realm of the heart,
however, until the sanctity of engagement was finally touched upon.
"An engagement is to me a very sacred thing," said Nancy with sweet
seriousness, in response to something from Steve. "I have never
understood how it could be lightly entered into with only the basis of
a brief, gay acquaintance."
Was not that just what she had done? "Oh, consistency, thy name is
certainly not woman," thought Steve bitterly. He said:
"Oh, yes, that is good theory, but it is generally overwhelmed by
practice when a gay cavalier comes along and takes the maiden heart by
storm."
"Perhaps so, with some," returned Nancy quietly, "but so far as I am
concerned I do not believe I could be deceived into thinking that a
brief, gay acquaintance was sufficient assurance for the binding of
two in the tenderest tie of life, when their tastes and ideals might
prove to be totally at variance."
Steve's heart leaped within him. Was she trying to tell him
something,--to undeceive him with regard to Raymond and herself?
Impetuous words rose and trembled on his lips, while the thought raced
through his brain that it would not be dishonourable to ask if there
were the least hope for him. He would not utter another word if she
said the sacred tie was already entered into with Raymond.
But Nancy, in the yielding and yet withdrawing which is characteristic
of woman and man never fully understands, plunged into a new topic.
Frightened at the plainness of her revelation and almost seeming to
divine his purpose, with her brightest talk she led him far afield.
Steve, however, baffled though he was, found memory of that shy look
coming back to him insistently, till he suddenly, firmly determined as
they rode home once more that Nancy Follet should have the opportunity
of accepting or refusing him before he left the place!
XVI
IN THE CRUCIBLE
When Steve and Nancy reached home they found Mr. Follet in bed
suffering intensely with sciatic pains. He fretted constantly,
declaring he would get up whether or no by afternoon. He was obliged
to make a trip into the country for a load of hay, able or not, that
evening, he said. Steve offered to go for him, but Mr. Follet
impatiently declared that nobody could do it but himself, as there was
some other business to be attended to at the same time.
The pain continued so severe, however, that getting up was an
impossibility, and about seven o'clock after fretting and fuming for
hours, occupying Mrs. Follet and Nancy continually, he said to his
wife:
"Go tell Steve to come here."
Mrs. Follet obeyed and brought Steve in from the porch where he sat
supposedly reading, Nancy being busy then with the supper dishes.
"Now you go out, ma, and don't come back till I tell you," said Mr.
Follet querulously, and his wife went wonderingly.
"Steve," said Mr. Follet as soon as the young man entered, "I know I
can trust you, and I am going to get you to do some important business
for me."
"I will certainly do anything for you, Mr. Follet, with great
pleasure, and I appreciate more than I can tell you the fact that you
feel you can trust me," said Steve warmly.
"Well," said Mr. Follet, a little uneasily, "this is mighty partic'ler
business I've got. The fact is," he went on with nervous energy, "a
part of the world is getting so good it ain't content with just being
good itself but is bound and determined that the rest of the world
shall do just as it says, and there's a good bit of difference of
opinion about what goodness strictly is."
Steve listened a little surprised at the homily. Then Mr. Follet went
on:
"I ain't ever cared anything about liquor myself, though I could have
had all I wanted all my life long, but I am willing other people
should make it, and have it, or sell it, all they want to."
Steve looked more surprised and his lips settled just a little into
firmer lines, but Mr. Follet failed to notice it.
"Now, old Kaintuck, which has always been the freest state in the
Union, has got a passle o' folks turned loose in it just like the
folks I was telling you about. They're so good themselves they ain't
satisfied till they make everybody else do just as they say. They're
making laws in the towns that no liquor can be sold, and I tell you
men of old Kaintuck ain't goin' to stand that and I don't blame 'em,"
he concluded vehemently.
Steve started to reply, his lips growing firmer, and his eyes taking
fire, but Mr. Follet gave him no chance.
"Now, I promised some fellows that I would meet 'em to-night,--and
bring home a load of hay," he ended with an excited laugh.
"A load of hay with whiskey enclosed?" asked Steve, instantly
suspecting.
"Yes," said Mr. Follet, delighted with Steve's quickness, "that's the
idee. Then I unload it in my barn and ship it as I please to these dry
towns. I'm in for the law as a general thing," he added quickly, "but
I believe in folks having their rights."
"Well, Mr. Follet," said Steve, going to the foot of the bed and
leaning hard upon it, "we must understand each other at once. I do not
agree with you as to our rights. I do not think we have the right to
destroy ourselves or others with any weapon whatsoever, the pistol,
the knife, poison or whiskey. I am with the law in every particular,"
he said firmly.
"With the law," exclaimed Mr. Follet excitedly, "when it says a man
can't do with his own corn on his own place what he wants to do with
it? A man's got as good a right, in my mind, to put up a still and
make whiskey out of his corn as his wife has to gather apples and make
pies!" he concluded, fairly quivering with excitement.
Steve held himself quietly, and said gently:
"Mr. Follet, you are too ill for me to discuss these things with you
now. I see we look at them from totally different points of view."
"There ain't but one point of view," shrilly returned Mr. Follet, "and
that's the point of view of man's rights. Why, it won't be long till a
man can't milk his own cow without the government standing round to
watch her switch her tail and tell him how to do it,--all ready to
grab the money if he sells a little to a neighbour!"
"Well, Mr. Follet," said Steve, looking steadily but kindly in the
enraged eyes of his opponent, "there is one thing that we do agree
upon, and that is, every man has a right to his own opinion," and the
kindness in Steve's eyes merged into his sudden smile, which stemmed a
little the rising tide of Mr. Follet's wrath.
After a somewhat subdued pause he turned to Steve appealingly:
"But you will go and get this load for me,--you will have no
responsibility about it. I have never had anything to do with
moonshiners before," he went on, "but Raymond got in with 'em and
thinks it would be a huge joke to send a lot of their whiskey to his
friends in these 'dry towns,' and that prohibition business has riled
me so that I promised I would help pass the stuff along. Raymond's
going to hang around the saloon and the station to see that the coast
is clear o' government men, while the thing is goin' on."
"No," said Steve instantly and firmly when Mr. Follet was through, "I
cannot do it, Mr. Follet, greatly as it grieves me to refuse you a
favour. I feel that whiskey, the knife and the pistol have been
Kentucky's greatest curses, especially among the people of the
mountains. I would lay down my life, if necessary, for mountain folks,
but I long instead to spend it for them in replacing the pistol and
the knife with the book and the pen, and in cultivating among them a
thirst for knowledge instead of drink," said Steve with quiet passion
which held Mr. Follet's unwilling attention. Then he added:
"Understand me, Mr. Follet, I do not attempt to decide for you what is
right or wrong, I only know that I cannot do this thing you ask and
keep my self-respect. I must live within the laws of my country even
if I should feel sometimes that they are unjust, and I can never take
even a remote part in the distribution of whiskey in the land I love,"
he concluded earnestly.
At this Mr. Follet fairly shouted in a sudden access of rage. He was
all the more angry for the moment because in the light of Steve's
clear statement he not only felt that Steve was right, but that he
himself was wrong.
"Then leave my house this instant with your contemptible idees about
Kentucky's rights, and don't dare to stop and speak to my wife or my
daughter."
"It is your house, Mr. Follet; I will do just as you say," Steve
replied.
Mr. Follet reiterated shrilly:
"Go on out of my house then, and don't you ever come near it again."
Steve bowed and left, not even stopping to get his travelling bag; in
fact he forgot he had one, and only caught up his hat from the porch
as he passed out.
XVII
FRUITION
Mrs. Follet and Nancy knew that something very exciting was going on
between Mr. Follet and Steve and both were exceedingly anxious. When
silence took the place of heated discussion they could bear it no
longer and went to Mr. Follet's door.
Mrs. Follet had never seen her husband so wrought up before, though he
had always been of an exciteable temperament. She did not dare ask a
question, but busied herself doing little things for his comfort while
Nancy brought in his supper, which he had not wanted earlier and still
querulously refused to touch.
A terrible silence settled upon them all. Nancy sat on the porch in
distressed wonder over what had happened between her father and Steve,
while Mrs. Follet, equally anxious, sat silently by the bed of the
restless man. She proposed to get a neighbour to go for the doctor,
but Mr. Follet wouldn't hear of it. Hours passed by and then Mr.
Follet suddenly started up in bed.
"My God," he cried wildly, "they'll kill him!"
"Who?" cried his wife, starting up also, while Nancy's white face at
once appeared in the door.
"Why, Steve," screamed Mr. Follet. "He's gone, and I don't doubt he
went straight to old man Greely's for the night. If he did, he's cut
across the woods and run into some moonshiners. They'll take him for a
government man and shoot him soon's they lay eyes on him!"
He paused for breath, and Mrs. Follet and Nancy were too appalled to
speak.
"Do something," screamed Mr. Follet; "I can't have the boy's blood on
my hands!"
Then Mrs. Follet with her gentle strength made him quiet down enough
to tell them particulars, and she learned that Mr. Follet was to have
gone after a load of hay, and coming back would stop at the edge of
the wood leading to old man Greely's, walk into the woods a piece to
meet the men, and then, if the coast was clear, they'd hide the liquor
in the hay load. At the end she said:
"You must go, Nancy----"
"Yes," cried Mr. Follet, "you must go, child, and save Steve. Jim
Sutton will know you. They won't touch you, and they'll believe
you. I was a fool ever to have anything to do with that moonshine
business!"
But Nancy was already out of the room flying for the stable. There was
no thought of riding habit or saddle. Throwing a bridle over Gyp's
head, she sprang upon his back and like the wind the two rushed forth
into the midnight stillness. Would she be in time to save him? It had
been so long since he left the house. Oh, would she be too late? She
urged Gyp wildly on and on, along the road directly towards the Greely
woods, where she would find the moonshiners, and perhaps,--oh,
perhaps! God only knew what else she might find.
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 space. 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 assured 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 assent.
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 sturdy boy, came
daily with little Champ to school. The "still" had passed away with
the passing of Champ, the elder, in a mountain fight, and a new day
had dawned for Hollow Hut.
THE END
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