FLOYD sat on the bench for more than an hour after she had left him.
His thoughts were of himself. He smoked two cigars moodily. The whole
day was retracing its active steps before his eyes, from the moment he
opened his ledger to do his morning's work till now that his naked soul
stood shivering in the darkness before him. His thoughts bounded from
one incident in his life to another, each leap ending in a shudder
of discontent. Cynthia's dignified restraint, and the memory of her
helpless, spasmodic leanings both to and from him, at once weighted him
down and thrilled him. Yes, his almost uncontrollable passion was his
chief fault. Would he ever be able to subdue it and reach his ideal of
manhood? Throwing his cigar away, he rose to leave. His watch told him
it was eleven.
He did not go towards the house and out at the gate, but took a nearer
way through the orchard, reaching the rail-fence a hundred yards below
Porter's house. He had just climbed over and was detaching himself from
the detaining clutch of numerous blackberry briers, when he saw a head
and pair of shoulders rise from a near-by fence-corner.
It was Pole Baker who advanced to him in astonishment.
“By gum!” Pole ejaculated. “I come as nigh as pease lettin' a
pistol-shot fly at you. I was passin' an' heard some'n' in the orchard
an' 'lowed it mought be somebody try in' to rob Porter's sweet-potato
bed, an', by the holy Moses, it was you!”
“Yes, it was me, Pole.”
The farmer's slow glance left Floyd's face and swept critically along
the fence to the white-posted gate in the distance.
“Huh!” he said, and was silent, his eyes roving on to the orchard, where
his glance hovered in troubled perplexity.
“Yes, I went to see Miss Cynthia,” Floyd explained, after a pause.
“Huh, you say you did! Well, I didn't see no light in the parlor when I
passed jest now'. I was particular to look, fer I've been everywhar to
find you, an' Porter's was the last place. By gum! I didn't think a chap
that had been kick'n' the clods o' the grave off'n 'im all day fer a
woman scrape 'ud run straight to another gal before he knowed whether
his hide was liable to remain solid or not.”
“I wanted to see Miss Cynthia,” Floyd said, “to ask her to go to
bush-arbor meeting with me Sunday, and I didn't intend to let my affair
with Jeff Wade interfere with it.”
“Huh, that was it! an' that's why you are a-comin' out o' Nathan
Porter's orchard at eleven o'clock at night, is it?”
Floyd gazed at his rough friend for an instant, just a touch of
irritability in his manner as he made answer:
“Miss Cynthia and I were sitting in the grape arbor, behind the house.
She only stayed a minute or two. I sat there a long time after she went
in. I was smoking and was beastly tired.”
“I see, I see!” Pole was slightly mollified, but was still to be heard
from.
“Now, let me tell you some'n', Nelson,” he pursued. “Thar hain't no
flower that ever bloomed an' throwed out sweet smells that's as nice an'
purty as a pure young gal that's got good, honorable parents, an' the
reputation of a creature like that is more valuable in my sight than all
the gold an' diamonds on earth.”
“You certainly are right about that,” Floyd agreed, coldly, for he was
secretly resenting Pole's implied warning.
“Well, then,” Baker said, even more sternly, “don't you climb out'n
Nathan Porter's orchard at this time o' night ag'in, when thar's a gate
with a latch an' hinges to it right before yore eyes. What ef you'd 'a'
been seed by some tattlin' busybody? You hain't got no more right to
run the risk--_the bare risk_, I say--o' castin' a stain on that little
gal's name than I have to set fire to yore store an' burn it to the
ground. The shack could be built up ag'in, but that fair name 'ud never
be the same ag'in.”
“You are thoroughly right, Pole,” Floyd said, regretfully. “I can see
it now. But I'm rather sorry to see you throw it at a feller quite so
hard.”
“I reckon I'm sorter upset,” the farmer said, half apologetically, as
they walked on. “I reckon it was my talk with Jeff Wade about his
sister that got me started. That's mighty nigh broke him all to pieces,
Nelson.”
“So you met Wade!” Floyd said, quickly. “I thought perhaps you stopped
him.”
“You thought I did? What made you think I did?”
“Why, when I'd waited till about one o'clock,” Floyd replied, “I started
out to Wade's, and--”
“You say you started out thar?”
“Yes, I knew he meant business, and I wanted it settled, one way or the
other, so that I could go back to work, or--”
“Or turn yore toes to the sky, you fool!”
“I started to say,” Floyd went on, “that I knew something had interfered
with his coming, and--”
“He'd 'a' shot seventeen holes in you or 'a' put seventeen balls in
one!” Pole cried, in high disgust. “I finally fixed him all right, but
he wasn't in no frame o' mind to have you come to his house an' rub it
in on 'im. However, you hain't told me what made you think I stopped
'im.”
“Why,” said Floyd, “just as I was starting away from the spring, Mel
Jones came running down the hill. He'd been hiding behind a big rock up
there to see the affair, and was awfully disappointed. He begged me to
wait a little longer, and said he was sure Jeff would come on. Then he
told me he saw you in the road near Wade's house, and I understood the
whole thing. I guess I owe my life to you, Pole. It isn't worth much,
but I'm glad to have it, and I'd rather owe you for it than any one I
know. What did you say to Wade?”
“Oh, I told 'im all I knowed about that little frisky piece, and opened
his eyes generally. It's all off, Nelson. He'll let you alone in the
future. He's badly broke up, but it's mostly over findin' out what the
gal was.”
They had reached the point where their ways separated, when they heard
several pistol-shots on the mountain road not far away, and prolonged
shouting.
“White Caps,” said Pole, succinctly. “They're out on another rampage.
Old Mrs. Snodgrass, by some hook or crook, generally gits on to the'r
plans an' comes over an' reports it to Sally. They are on the'r way now
to whip Sandy McHugh. They've got reliable proof that he stole Widow
Henry's pigs, an' they are goin' to make 'im a proposition. They are
a-goin' to give 'im his choice betwixt a sound whippin' an' reportin'
the matter to the grand jury. They want him to take the lickin' so he
kin stay on an' work fer his wife and childem. I reckon that's what
he'll decide to do. Sandy ain't in no shape to go to the penitentiary.”
“I guess he deserves punishment of some sort,” said Floyd, abstractedly,
“though it's a pity to have our society regulated by a band of mountain
outlaws.”
“They certainly set matters straight over at Darley,” Pole said. “They
broke up them nigger dives, an' made it safe fer white women to go to
prayer-meetin' at night. Say, Nelson, I'm sorter sorry I spoke so hard
back thar about that little gal's reputation, but the very thought o'
the slightest harm ever comin' to her runs me wild. I never have spoke
to you about it, but I tuck a deliberate oath once to protect 'er with
my life, ef necessary. You see, she's been more than a friend to me.
Last winter, while I was off on one o' my benders, little Billy got
sick. He had the croup an' come as nigh as pease dyin'; he could hardly
breathe. It was a awful night, rainin', snowin', sleetin', an' blowin'.
Sally left him long enough to run over to Porter's to beg somebody to
run fer Dr. Stone, an' Cynthia come to the door an' promised it ud be
done. She tried to git old Nathan up an' dressed, but he was so
slow about it--grumblin' all the time about women bein' scared at
nothin'--that Cynthia plunged out in the storm an' went them two miles
herself, an' fetched the doctor jest in the nick o' time. Then she
stayed thar the rest o' that night in 'er wet clothes, doin' ever'thing
she could to help, holdin' Billy in her arms, an' rockin' 'im back an'
forth, while I was--by God, Nelson Floyd, I was lyin' under the table in
Asque's bar so drunk I didn't know my hat from a hole in the ground.
An' when I heard all about it afterwards, I tuck my oath. I was in the
stable feedin' my hoss; he heard all I said, Nelson, an' I'll be demed
ef I don't believe he understood it. I'm here to say that ef anybody
don't believe I'll put a ball in the man that dares to say one word agin
that little angel, all he's got to do is to try it! This is a hell of a
community fer idle talk, anyway, as you know from yore own experience,
an' ef any of it ever touches that gal's fair name I'll kill tatlers as
fast as they open the'r dirty mouths.”
“That's the way to look at it, Pole,” Nelson Floyd said, as he turned
to go; “but you'll never have anything to fear in that direction.
Good-night.”
“Good-night, Nelson. I'll see you in the mornin'. I ought to 'a' been in
bed two hours ago.”