“We reckoned he war a spy for the revenuers, ’kase they ’lowed we
wouldn’t suspect sech ez him, sent ter find out edzac’ly whar the place
be, an’ we war ’feared ter let him go back.”
Harshaw winced.
“So we jes’ kerried him off along o’ we-uns. Mebbe ’twarn’t right, but
folkses sech ez we-uns air can’t be choosers.”
“Naw, sir; else we can’t be folkses,” said “hongry Jeb.”
How could he grin, with that lean, ghastly countenance, whenever he
contemplated his terrible jeopardy!
“Ef Tad hed been well keered fur at home I’d hev felt wuss, but
’twouldn’t hev made no differ,” said Marvin; “but I know’d I could do
better by him ’n old Griff.”
“Mink’s in jail now to be tried again for drowning him,” said Harshaw,
surprised at his own boldness.
“Waal, stranger,” said Marvin satirically, evidently going to make the
best of it, “the court air gin over ter makin’ mistakes, an’ we pay taxes
ter support a S’preme Court ter make some mo’. Man’s human, arter all; he
can’t be trested ter turn from everything else, an’ take arter the right
an’ jestice. He ain’t like my gran’dad’s dog, ez would always leave the
scent of deer or b’ar an’ trail Injun. That dog knowed what war expected
of him, an’ he done it. But man’s human. Man’s nuthin’ but human.”
“Ho! ho! ho!” laughed “hongry Jeb,” in appreciative elation.
A pause ensued.
The sound of the rain on the roof was intermitted at intervals, and the
wind lifted a desolate voice in the solitudes. The sense of the vast
wilderness without, measureless, trackless, infinitely melancholy, preyed
upon the consciousness. Perhaps Harshaw, in the quick transition from the
artificial life of the world, was more susceptible to these influences,
more easily abashed, confronted with the grave, austere, and august
presence of Nature. He had a fleeting remembrance of life in the city:
the gush of soft light; the mingled sound of music and the babbling of
the fountain in the rotunda of the hotel; the Capitol building, seen
sometimes through morning fogs and contending sunshine, isolated in
the air above the roofs of the surrounding town, like a fine mirage,
some turreted illusion; and again its white limestone walls ponderously
imposed, every line definite, upon the deep blue midday sky.
That other sphere of his existence seemed for the moment more real to
him; he had a reluctance as of awakening from a trance, as he gazed at
the unkempt circle of mountaineers about the dying fire.
They were beginning to yawn heavily now. Marvin was laying the chunks
together and covering them with ashes, to keep the coals till morning.
Harshaw looked on meditatively. Once, as he lifted his eyes, he became
aware that they were all covertly watching him with curiosity and
speculation.