THE OBSCURE TRAIL
Ned Whalen said nothing about the incident in the woods. But Tom did not
fail to advertise his friend’s exploit. His generous enthusiasm seemed
to amuse Whalen. Fairgreaves, too, was lavish in his colleague’s praise.
All, including Ferris, acknowledged Whalen’s heroism. But Whalen himself
seemed untouched by the episode.
It cannot be said, even, that he seemed more closely drawn toward Tom
than before. He liked Tom and seemed to find entertainment in the young
fellow’s freshness and enthusiasm. But he did not seek him out. Perhaps
that was just because he was taciturn and solitary of habit.
At all events his duties presently intervened to put an end to their
companionship. Tom became a real boss in the pleasant task of erecting a
log cabin summer-house, while Whalen went to boss the job of planting
poles for the electric wires down the south side of the mountain. As the
work progressed farther and farther down the mountainside the men began
taking their lunches with them, and since Tom dined in the cottage at
night, he and Whalen met only occasionally.
Tom was disappointed and a little piqued that the incident in the woods
had not aroused Whalen to something like a stronger sentiment of
friendship. But he was sensible enough to realize that Whalen was much
his senior, and also that he had acquired a certain habit of detachment
from every one. He was reserved and solitary, with a kindly, wistful
squint at things and people. Even Tom could not shake him out of his
whimsical, lonesome habit.
Only one person understood him thoroughly and that was Audry Ferris. At
least that was what she said. “I’m always suspicious of people that have
two meanings to everything they say,” she observed to Miranda. “He may
be physically strong (alluding to his exploit) and all that, but just
the same I don’t trust him. He’s like the rest of them—ne’er-do-wells.
If they really amounted to anything they wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be
a bit surprised—”
“Lor’, Miss Audry,” Miranda said. “I alius say dat man he no human
man—he no human man, I say dat. Das what I say, I say he _no human man_.
He got ghost blood dat man—he shoo have. No human man can hold up no
tree—dat man am no human man. I say so when I see ’im creepin’ along de
ledge in de night. Why he go dere? Huh? Why he go dere? You go ’long dat
ledge an’ you find a ghosts’ meetin’ place, das what I say. Why he go
dere in de night? I tell Misser Ferris, I tell him right out, I say dat
man am _no human man_.”
“I’m sure I don’t want to go along that ledge,” said Audry. “I’ve been
along it as far as I care to go, thank you. Ugh, just to look down those
crevices is enough for me. It makes me dizzy just to look down there.
Why in one place you have to step across a canyon that’s miles deep.
Ugh, it just makes me _shudder_.”
“Da’ shows ony ghosts can go dere,” Miranda said. “Dey can float—dey can
_float over cannons_.”
“No, because along there are lots and lots of rocks with peoples’
initials carved on them,” Audry said. “They’re years and years old. It
shows that people were up on this mountain as much as fifty years ago,
that’s what Niel says. I’d like to see all those carvings along there
but you couldn’t tempt me to go. I’m not afraid of spooks but I’m afraid
of precipices.”
“Spooks is worser den prespices,” said Miranda darkly.