After Tryon's failure to obtain an interview with Rena through Plato's
connivance, he decided upon a different course of procedure. In a few
days her school term would be finished. He was not less desirous to
see her, was indeed as much more eager as opposition would be likely to
make a very young man who was accustomed to having his own way, and
whose heart, as he had discovered, was more deeply and permanently
involved than he had imagined. His present plan was to wait until the
end of the school; then, when Rena went to Clinton on the Saturday or
Monday to draw her salary for the month, he would see her in the town,
or, if necessary, would follow her to Patesville. No power on earth
should keep him from her long, but he had no desire to interfere in any
way with the duty which she owed to others. When the school was over
and her work completed, then he would have his innings. Writing
letters was too unsatisfactory a method of communication--he must see
her face to face.
The first of his three days of waiting had passed, when, about ten
o'clock on the morning of the second day, which seemed very long in
prospect, while driving along the road toward Clinton, he met Plato,
with a rabbit trap in his hand.
"Well, Plato," he asked, "why are you absent from the classic shades of
the academy to-day?"
"Hoddy, Mars Geo'ge. W'at wuz dat you say?"
"Why are you not at school to-day?"
"Ain' got no teacher, Mars Geo'ge. Teacher's gone!"
"Gone!" exclaimed Tryon, with a sudden leap of the heart. "Gone where?
What do you mean?"
"Teacher got los' in de swamp, night befo' las', 'cause Plato wa'n't
dere ter show her de way out'n de woods. Elder Johnson foun' 'er wid
dawgs and tawches, an' fotch her home an' put her ter bed. No school
yistiddy. She wuz out'n her haid las' night, an' dis mawnin' she wuz
gone."
"Gone where?"
"Dey don' nobody know whar, suh."
Leaving Plato abruptly, Tryon hastened down the road toward Elder
Johnson's cabin. This was no time to stand on punctilio. The girl had
been lost in the woods in the storm, amid the thunder and lightning and
the pouring rain. She was sick with fright and exposure, and he was
the cause of it all. Bribery, corruption, and falsehood had brought
punishment in their train, and the innocent had suffered while the
guilty escaped. He must learn at once what had become of her. Reaching
Elder Johnson's house, he drew up by the front fence and gave the
customary halloa, which summoned a woman to the door.
"Good-morning," he said, nodding unconsciously, with the careless
politeness of a gentleman to his inferiors. "I'm Mr. Tryon. I have
come to inquire about the sick teacher."
"Why, suh," the woman replied respectfully, "she got los' in de woods
night befo' las', an' she wuz out'n her min' most er de time yistiddy.
Las' night she must 'a' got out er bed an' run away w'en eve'ybody wuz
soun' asleep, fer dis mawnin' she wuz gone, an' none er us knows whar
she is."
"Has any search been made for her?"
"Yas, suh, my husban' an' de child'en has been huntin' roun' all de
mawnin', an' he's gone ter borry a hoss now ter go fu'ther. But Lawd
knows dey ain' no tellin' whar she'd go, 'less'n she got her min' back
sence she lef'."
Tryon's mare was in good condition. He had money in his pocket and
nothing to interfere with his movements. He set out immediately on the
road to Patesville, keeping a lookout by the roadside, and stopping
each person he met to inquire if a young woman, apparently ill, had
been seen traveling along the road on foot. No one had met such a
traveler. When he had gone two or three miles, he drove through a
shallow branch that crossed the road. The splashing of his horse's
hoofs in the water prevented him from hearing a low groan that came
from the woods by the roadside.
He drove on, making inquiries at each farmhouse and of every person
whom he encountered. Shortly after crossing the branch, he met a young
negro with a cartload of tubs and buckets and piggins, and asked him if
he had seen on the road a young white woman with dark eyes and hair,
apparently sick or demented. The young man answered in the negative,
and Tryon pushed forward anxiously.
At noon he stopped at a farmhouse and swallowed a hasty meal. His
inquiries here elicited no information, and he was just leaving when a
young man came in late to dinner and stated, in response to the usual
question, that he had met, some two hours before, a young woman who
answered Tryon's description, on the Lillington road, which crossed the
main road to Patesville a short distance beyond the farmhouse. He had
spoken to the woman. At first she had paid no heed to his question.
When addressed a second time, she had answered in a rambling and
disconnected way, which indicated to his mind that there was something
wrong with her.
Tryon thanked his informant and hastened to the Lillington road.
Stopping as before to inquire, he followed the woman for several hours,
each mile of the distance taking him farther away from Patesville.
From time to time he heard of the woman. Toward nightfall he found
her. She was white enough, with the sallowness of the sandhill poor
white. She was still young, perhaps, but poverty and a hard life made
her look older than she ought. She was not fair, and she was not Rena.
When Tryon came up to her, she was sitting on the doorsill of a
miserable cabin, and held in her hand a bottle, the contents of which
had never paid any revenue tax. She had walked twenty miles that day,
and had beguiled the tedium of the journey by occasional potations,
which probably accounted for the incoherency of speech which several of
those who met her had observed. When Tryon drew near, she tendered him
the bottle with tipsy cordiality. He turned in disgust and retraced
his steps to the Patesville road, which he did not reach until
nightfall. As it was too dark to prosecute the search with any chance
of success, he secured lodging for the night, intending to resume his
quest early in the morning.