THREE MEN IN THE CORNFIELD
"Ah tells yuh, Ah did. Ah sawed him obah dar in de co'nfield," protested
Washington Washington.
"There you go again. You will saw the wrong person one of these days,
then you will go to jail for life," rebuked Emma Dean.
"What's that?" demanded Grace, hurrying to the excited colored boy, who
was rolling his eyes and gesticulating as he tried to tell the
Overlanders what he had seen.
"Laundry performed a surgical operation on a man in the cornfield.
That's all, Grace," Emma Dean informed her.
"Ah did. Ah sawed his gun, too."
"Yours must be a sharp saw if it will saw a gun," murmured Emma.
"He war peekin' at yuh-all, an' when he seed Ah sawed him he snooked an'
Ah didn't sawed him no moah."
"Is that all?" questioned Grace.
"Yassuh. Yes'm."
"Quite likely it was the man who owns the cornfield. He probably was
looking the crop over to see if it were fit to cut. I presume a man has
a perfect right to look at his own cornfield, even up here in the
Kentucky mountains," observed Miss Briggs.
"Ah reckons you're right," chuckled Hippy. "I decline to get excited
over it. I have troubles of my own. Say!" he added, his face growing
suddenly serious. "You don't suppose it was a fellow trying to collect
that head money on me, do you?"
"Not in broad daylight, Hippy," smiled Grace. "The headsman probably
will perform the delicate operation of decapitating you some night when
you are asleep."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Nora. "The mountain air has made you all
light-headed. I know who it was. It was 'Paw.' Paw has returned and was
looking us over. I hope, for our own peace of mind, that he liked our
looks."
"Nora may be right," nodded Anne.
"Yes," agreed Grace. "I think it would be wise for Hippy to go to the
Thompson home for the milk to-night. He can then get acquainted with Mr.
Thompson, and perhaps interest him, and make him friendly to us."
Hippy eyed her disapprovingly and sighed.
"A lamb was led to the slaughter and--"
"Just the same, we must be alert to-night," advised Grace. "If Hippy
and Elfreda will take the first half of the night, Anne and I will take
the watch the balance of the night."
This was agreed to, and the rest of the day was devoted to setting the
camp to rights, practicing with the rope, at which all tried their hand,
and taking naps, always with attention to their surroundings, for the
Overland Riders knew they were in more or less peril in the Kentucky
mountains, and believed that sooner or later those who, for some reason,
wished to be rid of them, would make a desperate attempt to force them
to leave that neighborhood.
There was the warning note to indicate that the attempt might not be
long delayed.
Supper, that evening, was eaten just after dark, as the Overlanders
enjoyed sitting about their campfire in the cool evening air, chatting
and telling stories and indulging in good-natured banter as they ate.
They had just sat down when a voice from the darkness brought instant
silence, and a quick reaching for their weapons. The nerves of the
Overland girls were getting jumpy.
"I make the near-blind to see and the seeing to see better. I am the
promoter of happiness, the benefactor of all-uns of the mountains.
Specs, ladies and gentlemen. Nick-nacks, thread, needles, but
principally specs and good cheer. Yes, thanks. I will have a snack with
you. I thank you for the invitation."
The Overland Riders, who, up to this juncture, had not uttered a word,
burst into laughter, for they recognized that voice, the
never-to-be-forgotten voice and lingo of Jeremiah Long, the Mystery Man.
"You are indeed welcome," greeted Grace, stepping forward to shake hands
with the spectacle man, who put down his grip, mopped his forehead, then
grasped her hand, regarding Grace with twinkling eyes.
"I have just come from Jed Thompson's hospitable home where I have
spectacled the family from the old man himself down to and including the
babe. They told me that down by the cornfield was a bunch of campers,
and I said I'd go down and sell them some specs. I'll introduce myself.
I don't know you," he added in a lower tone. "I'm Jeremiah Long, and
I've already told you the rest. Who are you?"
"We are the Overland Riders, riding through the mountains for
pleasure--and business," answered Grace, quickly catching his intimation
that he did not desire that listening ears should know that he had met
the party before. "After mess you must show us your wares. Perhaps we
may find something that may be useful to us."
"Charmed, I'm sure." The Mystery Man of the mountains placed a hand over
his heart and made a profound bow. He then sat down. "Cream and sugar in
the coffee, please. Thank you. I caught the odor of this coffee before I
rounded the upper corner of the cornfield. My nose frequently leads me
to the good things of earth, and what I don't then see with my own eyes,
the eyes in my case do."
"I would give almost anything to be able to talk a blue streak the way
you do," exclaimed Emma so earnestly that her companions nearly choked
with laughter, and that left the Mystery Man with laughter instead of
words on his lips.
"Yes, but greater even than the gift of gab, is the gift of
'con-centration,'" twinkled Jeremiah Long.
"How did you know about that?" demanded Emma, looking her amazement.
"How did I know? My dear young woman, the essence sent out by
'con-centration' is an imponderable quantity--"
"Imponderable?" wondered Miss Dean. "I like that word, and, though I
don't know what it means, it sounds good."
"As I was saying, the waves sent out by your 'con-centrating' may have,
like the wireless waves, been picked up by my own delicate mental
mechanism and--"
"In other words, Miss Dean overshot the mark she aimed at," interjected
Hippy.
"Well, something like that, I should say," chuckled the Mystery Man.
"Is there anything you do not know?" wondered Anne Nesbit.
"You are a mighty fortunate man, I should say," declared Hippy. "Think
what the result would have been had that 'imponderable quantity' hit you
fair and square. Why, it would have blown you to atoms--molecules and--"
"Suppose we change the subject," suggested Grace Harlowe. "Show us your
wares, won't you, Mr. Long?"
The visitor got up, and, fetching his case, opened it, revealing great
numbers of shining spectacles, beads and other shoddy adornments.
"We will now fit you to glasses, those of you who need them."
"You, of course, know how to examine eyes?" nodded Elfreda.
"Oh, no. I 'fit' the bows to the ears," answered Mr. Long.
"Yes, but aren't you afraid you will ruin the eyes of the persons you
fit glasses to?" questioned Grace.
The Mystery Man smiled.
"I never heard of a person's eyes being ruined by looking through a
window," he made reply, raising a merry laugh. "I'll fit you to smoked
glasses to protect your eyes from the sun. They won't cost you anything.
Neither did they cost me anything. I want my wares known in every home
in the mountains, and I want every man, woman and child, and babe in
arms, to be seeing things through my eyes, and I'll accomplish it if the
window glass holds out."
"Of course we expect to pay you," began Grace.
"Not a cent, not a cent. I should say it might be wise to have them--the
glasses--well smoked up like a ham, for there may be doings up here that
it were the part of wisdom for you folks not to see. Do the bows fit,
Mrs. Gray?" he asked, adjusting a pair of specs to her ears.
"I--I think so."
The visitor rattled on, keeping his customers fairly convulsed with
laughter, until he had equipped half the party with spectacles.
"You may pay me," he suddenly suggested, lowering his voice. "I've
changed my mind. That will be two dollars apiece," he added in a loud,
blustering tone.
The Overland Riders looked at him in amazement. Only a few moments
before that he had proposed to "fit" them with glasses free of charge.
"Of course we will pay you," announced Emma Dean airily.
Elfreda and Grace, who had been eyeing Mr. Long inquiringly, saw motive
in his sudden change. The quick, meaning glance he gave them convinced
them that their surmise was right.
"What is it?" asked Grace, her voice down almost to a whisper.
"Yes, two dollars. Thank you. There are three men in the cornfield
watching us," he added in a tone barely loud enough for the Overlanders
to hear. "Don't look. If I don't run out of change I'll have you all
fixed up in three shakes of a possum's tail," said Mr. Long, again
boisterously.