The Moonshiners and the Railroad.
The whistling stopped suddenly. Ralph kept on, however, in the
direction where he had last heard the sounds, and presently
distinguished two dim forms standing in an open space amid the trees,
through which ran the white thread that indicated the lost trail.
"I say," began the lad, "are you fellows going down the mountain? If
you are, I'd like to go with you. Fact is, I believe I'm lost."
"Halt, there, young feller!" was the reply, given in sharp, stern
tones. "One step further and you'll find half an ounce of lead under
your skin, mebbe."
Ralph obeyed, somewhat puzzled and decidedly alarmed. The men--there
were two of them--drew something over their faces, then ordered the boy
to advance.
He did so, and on drawing near saw that they now wore masks, and had
long sacks swung over their shoulders, with a load of some kind in
either end. When he saw the masks and the bags Ralph understood at
once what their business was.
"Who are you?" demanded one of the men, and the lad could see that he
held a pistol in one hand. "No lyin', now!"
"My name is Granger, and I'm from over on Hiawassee River way. Want to
get down into the low country. Got lost; stayed in a shack while it
rained, and--here I am."
"Be you a son of old Bras Granger?"
"No; grandson."
The two whispered together a moment, then one of them said:
"I reckon you're all right, boy. 'Taint wuth while to ast our names,
'cause d'ye see--we wouldn't tell."
"You'd be fools if you did," returned Ralph, his self confidence now
fully restored. "I ain't a wanting to know who you are. I know
already what you are."
"How's that?" came sharply back, and an ominous click was heard, which,
however, did not seem to alarm Ralph.
"Moonshiners," said the boy briefly. "Haven't I been raised among 'em?
I've got kin folks as stills regular, I'm sorry to say."
"Sorry! Ain't it a good trade?"
"Not when it lands you inside of some dirty jail. Besides, I don't
like the stuff, anyhow."
"No use to offer you a dram then?"
"Not a bit. But I say, if you'll let me go on with you till we get
down where there's some houses, I'll think more of that than if you
gave me a barrel of whisky."
"We're on our way back. We're goin' up the mountain. But you foller
this trail for about a mile, then take the first right hand turn.
Follow that 'twel you come to an old field. T'other side of that
you'll find the mud pike as runs to Hendersonville. After that you'll
find houses thick enough. But where are you bound for after you get
down there?"
"Oh, anywhere most. I'm after work."
Ralph concluded that he had better not be more explicit with strangers.
The moonshiners soon grew quite friendly and seemed a little hurt over
Ralph's persistence in declining a drink.
"I'm going out among strangers," he said, "and I've got to keep my
head. The best way to do that is to let the stuff entirely alone.
Well, so long, men. I'm mighty glad I met up with you."
He struck out down the trail whistling merrily. Now that he was on the
right road again, and with a clear night before him, he felt far more
cheerful than before.
He found the old field without difficulty, and not far beyond he struck
the Hendersonville pike as the moonshiner had intimated.
Here the country was more open. Large fields, interspersed with
patches of woodland, were on either hand. Now and then he would pass a
cabin, his approach being heralded by the barking of dogs.
Once or twice large buildings came into view. These were the
residences of the more wealthy class of planters. Even in the dim
starlight, Ralph saw that they were larger than the log dwellings he
was accustomed to.
Finally the moon went down. He would have stopped at some house and
asked for shelter, but the hour was so late that he shrank from
disturbing strangers. The night was not uncomfortably cool and he was
getting further on.
Roosters began to crow. A few clouds glided athwart some of the
brightest stars and he found difficulty in traveling.
Just beyond some buildings he stumbled over something hard and
immovable. As he picked himself up, his hand came in contact with cold
steel.
Peering closely he saw two long lines running parallel as far as he
could distinguish on either hand. He found that they were of iron or
steel and rested on wooden supporters, half buried in the earth.
"Dinged if this ain't queer!" he thought. "Let me see. I wonder if
this ain't one of them railroads I've heard folks tell about. They say
it'll carry you as far in one hour as a man'll walk all day."
Pondering over this, to him, puzzling celerity of motion, he groped his
way along the track to where it broadened out into a switch.
"Reckon this one must run somewhere else," thought Ralph, when he
suddenly detected a large dark object ahead. "What's that, I wonder.
Guess I'll look into that. Seeing I'm getting into a strange country
it won't do to be too careless."
Going slowly forward, he walked completely round the unknown affair,
which he ascertained was on wheels that rested on the iron tracks.
"This must be one of their wagons they ride so fast in," said the boy
to himself. "Hello! The door is open."
It was an ordinary box car on a siding, the sliding door of which was
partially open. As Ralph strove to peer within, he detected the sound
of measured breathing.
"Some one is in there," he decided, and drew back cautiously.
The darkness had increased greatly and there seemed to be signs of
another rain coming up. No other place of shelter was in the immediate
neighborhood that he could discern.
He thrust his head into the car and felt with his hands. Nothing could
he see, nor did he feel aught but the flooring of the car. While he
debated as to what he should do, the rain began again.
"Gracious!" he exclaimed, "I don't like to go into another man's ranch
like this, but blamed if I am going to get wet, with a shelter within
two feet of me."
He clambered inside and sat with his back against the wall, intending
to get out again after the shower should pass.
But the shower did not pass on. Instead it settled into a steady
drizzle. When the rain began to beat inside he drew the door nearly
shut.
The measured breathing came from one end of the car. There seemed to
be but one occupant besides Ralph.
As the time passed, the lad grew drowsy. Inured though he was to an
active life, the walking he had done had fatigued him greatly. Now, as
he sat resting, waiting for the rain to cease, a natural drowsiness
asserted itself with a potency that would not be denied.
As he nodded he awakened himself several times by a violent jerk of the
head, but at last slumber prevailed entirely, and Ralph was sleeping as
soundly as the other unknown occupant of the car.
The unusual events of the last two days had kept his fancies at an
abnormal stretch. It was natural, therefore, for him to begin dreaming.
It seemed as if he were going back instead of leaving his home. Every
one he met looked at him compassionately. Finally he saw Jase Vaughn,
and remembered that he owed Jase five dollars. He put his hand in his
pocket and drew out--a rattlesnake.
Even this did not waken him, though he thought he was back at the shack
by the tar kiln. The ground seemed to be covered with snakes. He ran
ever so far, then all at once he was with Jase just as if he had been
with him all the time.
"I haven't got no money," he said sorrowfully.
"Never mind," replied Vaughn. "You run home. Poor fellow; I'm sorry
for you."
Much perplexed, he kept on until he stood before his grandfather's
cabin. He thought his Aunt Dopples was there, with her eyes red with
weeping.
"Go in; go in," she urged, pushing him through the doorway. "He's been
waiting for you till he's about give out."
Ralph dreamed that the first thing he saw was his grandfather propped
up in bed, with a ghastly pallor on his face. When he beheld his
truant grandson, the scowl upon his brow deepened, and he shook a
warning finger.
"Wretched boy!" hissed the old man, while Ralph cowered like one in the
presence of a ghost, "you are no Granger. There never was a Granger
that acted the coward. You are a Vaughn--a Vaughn--a Vaughn!"
The old man's tone towards the last rose into such a wild, weird
shriek, that Ralph's blood ran cold. He attempted to speak with a
tongue so tied by fear that words would not come.
Under the agony of effort he screamed aloud, then suddenly awoke.
"Here! Here! Wake up, I say!"
These words, uttered shrilly in his ear, staggered his senses as he
opened his eyes and looked up.