The right of way from North Wilkesboro' to Greensboro' runs through a
region where every vista delights the eye with wild and romantic
scenes. The rails follow the course of the upper reaches of the Yadkin
River, with swift succession of vicious curves and heavy grades. The
twistings of the road-bed, so advantageous for presenting the varied
loveliness of the wilds, were by way of being a real torture to the
young adventurer, who sat in seeming stolidity near the rear door of
the smoking-car, with the black bag between his feet. Even experienced
travelers found the lunges of the train trying to their nerves as it
shot at speed around "hairpin" bends, or hurled itself to the fall of
a steeper descent. To Zeke, who for the first time knew the roar and
jolt of such travel, this trip was a fearsome thing. To sit movelessly
there, while the car reeled recklessly on the edge of abysses, was a
supreme trial of self-control. The racking peril fairly sickened him.
A mad impulse of flight surged in him. Yet, not for worlds would he
have let anyone guess his miserable alarm.
Nevertheless, one there was who apprehended in some measure the ordeal
through which the mountaineer was passing--happily, a kindly observer.
An elderly man, across the aisle from Zeke, regarded his fellow
passenger with particular intentness. It seemed to him that, in some
vague way, the clean-cut face was familiar. His curiosity thus
aroused, he perceived the tenseness of expression and attitude, and
shrewdly suspected the truth. It was with benevolent intent, rather
than for the gratification of inquisitiveness, that he finally got up
and seated himself in the vacant place alongside the younger man.
Zeke's perturbation caused him to start nervously at this advent of a
stranger, but a single glance into the wrinkled, yet hale, face of the
man reassured him. The visitor's amiable character showed plainly in
his dim blue eyes, which twinkled merrily. Moreover, there was a sure
witness of worth in the empty sleeve, pinned to his left breast, on
which showed the cross of honor. The humor lurking in the eyes was
grotesquely manifested in his first address:
"This-hyar railroad hain't no fitten one fer beginners," he announced,
with a chuckle. "Hit's plumb likely to make a squirrel into a nut."
Zeke smiled, somewhat ruefully. He understood the play on words since
"boomer," the mountaineers' own name for the red squirrel, is often
applied to themselves. But the distraction afforded by the garrulous
veteran was a relief. A new spur was given to their mutual interest
when, after telling his name, it was discovered that his father had
been a company-mate with Seth Jones, the veteran, in the Twelfth North
Carolina Volunteers. The old man's curiosity was highly gratified by
this explanation of the inherited likeness that had puzzled him, and
he waxed reminiscent and confidential. The diversion was welcome to
his listener, where doubtless many another might have found the
narrative of by-gone campaigns tedious in this prolix retelling.
Ultimately, indeed, the youth's sympathies were aroused by Jones' tale
of misfortune in love, wherein his failure to write the girl he left
behind him had caused her first to mourn him as dead, and eventually
to marry her second choice.
"But I've jest got scrumptious news," he exclaimed, his rheumy eyes
suddenly clear and sparkling. "Seems as how Fanny's a widder. So, I'm
a-goin' to try my luck, an' no shelly-shallyin', now I've got her
located arter a mighty lot o' huntin'. Yes, sir, sonny," he concluded,
with a guffaw, "old as I be, I'm a-goin' a-courtin'. If I ever see ye
ag'in, I'll tell ye how it comes out. I s'pose I seem plumb old fer
sech foolishness to a boy like you be, but some hearts keep young till
they stop. I'm pretty spry fer my age, too, if I do say so as
shouldn't."
Zeke was not so surprised by the old man's hopes as he might have
been, were it not for the example of Plutina's grandfather, who,
somewhat beyond four-score, was still scandalously lively, to the
delectation of local gossip. But, though after the departure of Jones
at a junction, Zeke reflected half-amusedly on the rather sere
romances of these two ancient Romeos, he was far from surmising that,
at the last, their amorous paths would cross.
There was still further harrowing experience for Zeke after reaching
the Southern Railway's terminal on the pier at Pinner's Point, in
Virginia, for here he was hurried aboard the ferry-boat, and was
immediately appalled by the warning blast of the whistle. Few bear
that strident din undismayed. This adventurer had never heard the
like--only the lesser warning of locomotives and the siren of a
tannery across twenty miles of distance. Now, the infernal belching
clamor broke in his very ears, stunning him. He quivered under the
impact, stricken to the soul for seconds of shock. But the few
careless eyes that chanced to scan the mountaineer noted no faltering
in face or form. He stood to all appearance serenely, easily poised,
his attitude replete with the grace of physical power, his mouth
firmly closed, his widely-set eyes unwavering. Even the cudgel, and
the black bag still dangling from it, could not offset a certain aloof
dignity that masked distress by stern effort of will.
Nothing further occurred for a little to afflict the traveler's
unaccustomed nerves, and he soon found himself pleasurably absorbed in
contemplation of the novel surroundings. The boat was nearing the
Norfolk landing when his eyes fell on a dog, held in leash by a young
woman. Both the beast and its mistress commanded his instant
attention, in which wonder was the chief emotion. The dog itself was a
Boston bull-terrier, which was a canine species wholly strange to the
mountaineer's experience, limited as it had been to hounds and
mongrels of unanalyzable genealogy. The brute's face had an uncanny
likeness to a snub-nosed, heavy-jowled "boomer" whom Zeke detested,
and he eyed the creature askance by reason of the resemblance.
"Hit's plumb man-faced," was his verdict. "I shore prefer 'em jest
plain dawg." His eyes went then from the leash to the girl holding it,
and he hardly restrained a gasp, in which admiration was mingled with
amazement. The ordinary observer would have seen only a pretty girl,
of the fluffy blond type, smartly tailored in blue serge, with the
skirt decorously slit. But Zeke saw a vision from another world than
that of the slatternly mountain women, whose toil left them neither
opportunity nor ambition for nicety in dress, which, indeed, was
finally prohibited by ignorance as well as poverty. This girl stood
out in startling relief, marvelous revelation from the new world he
was entering. Slowly, with concentration, the young man scrutinized
the vision, noting every detail, from the natty turban with its
swaying feather wand to the daintily pointed ties, above which were to
be glimpsed trim silk-clad ankles. Yet, the novel charm of her failed
utterly to disturb the loyalty of his heart. His hungry soul found
exquisite satisfaction in the spectacle of feminine refinement thus
presented for the first time, but his devotion to the roughly garbed
mountain girl was in no wise imperiled. On the contrary, his
imagination busied itself with an effort to picture Plutina thus
splendidly arrayed.
"I 'low she's plumb handsome," he meditated. "But, shucks! Tiny beats
her holler. In them duds, she'd have her skun a mile.... But thet-thar
man-faced dawg! I'd shore hate like pizen to be found daid along with
thet ornery pup."
As he mused, no hint came out of the future as to the time when, in
very truth, he would be close to death, and that same dog an actor in
the drama, one to be deeply esteemed, not contemned. But that time was
not yet. In fact, the immediate future was not destined to remove his
prejudice against the bull-terrier. On the contrary!
The fixity of Zeke's staring penetrated the girl's consciousness. She
turned abruptly, and her blue eyes met his in a cool glance that
seemed to pass through him and on, as if he were something quite
invisible, altogether beneath notice. Zeke felt the rebuke keenly,
though innocent of intentional offense. The instincts of gentlemanly
blood from which he was somewhere distantly descended made him realize
his fault in manners, though he had had no guidance from experience.
The ready blush burned hot on brow and cheeks; he dropped his gaze
confusedly to the dog.
Even the beast, he perceived, reprobated his conduct. It was staring
up at him fiercely from red eyes, and the hackles stood erect, though
it did not growl. Evidently, it resented undue attention to its
mistress.
There was a movement forward of the passengers, as the ferry-boat drew
into its slip. Zeke advanced with the others, following close behind
the girl and the dog, which strained at the leash in order still to
stare menacingly at the young man. Then, without warning, the action
became swift and violent. The ferry-boat crashed against the yielding
walls of the slip. Zeke, unprepared for the shock, was thrown from his
balance. One of the heavy new shoes smashed down on a paw. The dog
sprang and snapped. The jaws missed, because the girl tugged at the
leash in the same second. Zeke instinctively kicked at the brute in
self-defense. His foot took the animal fairly in the jaw, and lifted
it from the floor, just as the girl turned. She cried out in shrill
anger at this rough stranger's wanton attack on her pet, for so she
interpreted the event. She maintained her hold on the leash bravely,
lest worse follow. But her strength was insufficient to restrain the
creature of fighting breed. It lunged forward with such suddenness
that both its mistress and its enemy were taken unawares. The girl was
dragged in tow. Zeke would have leaped aside, but he was too late to
escape the encounter, though he mitigated it. The iron jaws clanged
shut, but in the slack of the victim's sturdy jeans, instead of in the
flesh. The massive mouth was locked vise-like. Because of the cloth's
sturdiness, the dog swung clear of the floor. The girl still strove
frantically, though vainly, at the leash, shrieking commands which
were unheeded. Zeke, confused, chagrined, ashamed, wrathful, shook
himself violently to be free, without avail. The other passengers
scurried forth, with a panic cry of "Mad dog!"
Zeke's wrath mounted. He had had little training in self-restraint,
and his passions were of the primitive sort. Now, abruptly, the lesser
emotions were overwhelmed by the might of his rage. He was conscious
only of the humiliating fact that this hideous man-faced dog had
fastened itself on him, and there hung. Zeke bent and twisted, his two
hands on the creature's jaws. Then he set himself to wrench them
apart. His strength, great as it was availed nothing against that
remorseless grip. The resistance goaded him to fury. He gave over the
effort to prise the teeth apart, and put all his might into a frenzied
pull. There were instants of resistance, then the hissing noise of
rending cloth. A huge fragment of the stout jeans was torn out bodily.
Zeke hurled the animal violently from him. The leash was snapped from
the girl's hands. The dog's body shot across the cabin, hurtled
against the wall. The indomitable brute tumbled to the floor, and lay
there stunned. But even in defeat, he carried down with him between
rigid jaws the blue-jeans banner of victory.
With a bound, the girl crossed the space, and fell on her knees beside
the inert form, crooning over it pitifully. In the same moment, the
gust of anger in Zeke ended. He stood motionless, except for his
quickened breathing, with eyes fast on the girl. Remorse stabbed him
as he realized her distress, for which he was responsible. He went
toward her hesitatingly, forgetful of bag and stick, which had fallen
at the outset of the mêlée. He ventured to address her, stammering
confusedly.
"I 'low he hain't daid, nor nothin' like thet," he said; "jest takin'
a nap-like." His wrath gave a final flicker, as he looked down at the
ugly face cushioned within the girl's hands. "An ornery critter like
thet-thar pup ought to be kept shet-up," he concluded spitefully.
The girl lifted a face in which blue eyes were flaming.
"It's you ought to be shut up, you horrible man!" she cried. "And you
will be. I'll see to that."
"Now, don't be plumb foolish," Zeke expostulated. "The varmint hain't
hurt none--not a mite, ma'am."
"Beast!" the girl ejaculated, concisely.
Zeke retorted with high indignation.
"I jest nacher'ly hain't a-goin' to stand still an' say 'Thank ye!'
while I'm bein' et up piecemeal by no dawg--specially one with a face
like his'n."
He would have said more, but paused with mouth agape, eyes widening,
his expression horror-stricken. For, just then, the bull-terrier
snorted loudly, and unclosed its red eyes. The clenched jaws, too,
relaxed. Thus released, the broad strip of jeans fluttered to the
floor. Its movement caught Zeke's gaze. He recognized the cloth. The
ghastly truth burst in his brain. In an agony of embarrassment, he
clasped his hands to that portion of his person so fearfully
despoiled. Moved by his sudden silence, impressed perhaps by some
subtle impact of this new and dreadful emotion on his part, the girl
looked up. She, too, had noted subconsciously the fall of the cloth
from the dog's jaws. Now as she saw the young man's face of fire and
observed his peculiar posture, she understood. Her own crimson cheeks
rivaled those of the afflicted one. She turned and bent low over her
reviving pet. Her shoulders were shaking, Zeke was shuddering.