Tale of the
 
 J^indy J^o 
 
 Tale of the <3&ountains 
 
 Marie . Hoffman 
 
 'Boston 
 
 (Company 
 
 MDCCCCXX
 
 COPYRIGHT- I Q20 
 BY MARSHALL JONES COMPANY 
 
 THE PLIMPTON PRESS'NORWOOD-MASS'U'S-A
 
 To 
 
 MY HUSBAND 
 DR. CARL HOFFMAN 
 
 2136252
 
 J^Jndy 
 
 Tale of the 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 UPON the edge of a giant cliff, her face turned 
 to the cool breeze from off the rushing, 
 tumbling water, a young girl lay motionless ; 
 the dull linsey-woolsey of her clothing so perfectly 
 a part of her environment as to render her unseen 
 by the casual glance. 
 
 Just at this point the mountain stream racing 
 madly between rugged boulders dropped sheer to the 
 depth below. 
 
 Mingling with the roar of the water came the mul- 
 titudinous voice of the woods : the song of bird and 
 bee ; the cricket's chirp ; the shrill, wearisome reitera- 
 tion of the cicada; the plaintive cry of the tree- 
 frog. From the near distance came the call of the 
 shy partridge; nearby, a family of woodchucks 
 played merrily about a big rock upon which their 
 mother lay stretched. 
 
 No slightest suggestion of need for thought as to 
 1
 
 2 LINDY LOYD 
 
 her surroundings was evidenced by the girlish figure 
 upon the cliff ; yet both eye and ear were keenly upon 
 the alert. 
 
 Presently the breeze brought to the girl the sound 
 of a loosened stone as it plunged down the mountain- 
 side, followed by a far-away bird-note of alarm, 
 repeated immediately nearer by and yet nearer. 
 At once every timid wood-dweller sought cover. 
 Mother Partridge, softly calling her chicks to her 
 side, melted quietly into the underbrush. Mrs. 
 Woodchuck and all the little 'chucks vanished under 
 the big rock; even the tiny frog ceased his cry and 
 flattened his small body against the tree. 
 
 Slightly shifting her position, the girl remained 
 quiet and tense upon the cliff, her eyes fixed upon the 
 distance. As she watched, a solitary man crept 
 stealthily out into the open and crossed the brook. 
 He was followed by another and yet another. All 
 were armed. 
 
 "Revenues !" she whispered. Sliding quietly from 
 the rock she disappeared up the stream. Springing 
 lightly from stone to stone, wading, running, she 
 pursued her way directly up the bed of the brook 
 and finally reached a giant boulder in mid-stream; 
 pausing, she sent forth her voice in the tremulous 
 "Ah-oo" of the screech-owl. 
 
 Three times the plaintive cry, so weighted with 
 misery, floated out and with so lifelike an effect that 
 a sleepy old owl near by responded with a drowsy
 
 LINDY LOYD 3 
 
 "Whoo-hoo-hoo," before settling comfortably to his 
 slumbers. 
 
 Immediately, clear and distinct, came the reply: 
 "Ah-oo, ah-oo, ah-oo Having accom- 
 
 plished her purpose the girl went on down the 
 mountain. 
 
 Lindy Loyd was the daughter of a "moonshiner" 
 and it was to her father's hidden "still" up the brook 
 her flying steps had been directed. Quick to act, 
 keen of ear and eye as any wild thing of the forest 
 and in perfect sympathy with the moonshiner's be- 
 lief in his God-given right to wring from his barren 
 soil any sustenance whatsoever, Lindy had, ere this, 
 rendered frequent and valuable service in protecting 
 her father's illicit business; enjoying, with him, the 
 outwitting of the officers of the law. 
 
 The day was warm and the girl's sun-bonnet, 
 swinging from her shoulder, exposed a wealth of 
 lustrous, dark hair and a face suggestive of Spanish 
 or gipsy origin, with its dark eyes, warm coloring 
 and heavy brows ; a face like a flower in purity of 
 tint, its freshness and beauty of youth; a type fre- 
 quently to be found upon the mountains ; like a flower, 
 too, alas, in the duration of its loveliness. But the 
 crowning charm of Lindy's face was her eyes which 
 looked forth upon life with a gaze peculiarly clear 
 and direct. Reared in the truth-compelling silence of 
 the mountains, confronted daily with the hard facts 
 of life facts stripped of all artificiality she was
 
 4 LINDY LOYD 
 
 straightforward and unafraid; and though bare of 
 foot and clad in the customary homespun, yet was 
 there a certain grace of bearing an undefinable 
 charm about the mountain-girl. 
 
 While Lindy was making her way down the moun- 
 tain, matters were taking a livelier turn up the brook. 
 
 The moonshiner, always on the elert for surprises, 
 is seldom taken completely unawares and given ever 
 so short a notice is, usually, found equal to the oc- 
 casion. Pouring water upon the smoking embers, 
 Dimitri Loyd hurriedly secreted both "copper" and 
 worm; then, seizing his gun, considered a very nec- 
 essary adjunct in the business, he dropped softly 
 down behind a rock to await developments, prepared 
 for what he believed to be a defense of his rights, and, 
 incidentally, of himself also. 
 
 "Kem on damn ye," he muttered fiercely, peer- 
 ing over the sights of his gun. 
 
 He had not long to wait. Soon an incautious 
 tread, a smothered curse, announced the approach 
 of the enemy. 
 
 Scanning each step of the way for any indication 
 of illicit distilling, sniffing the air for the betraying 
 whiff, the revenues crept on up the mountain, passing 
 so near their quarry indeed, that but a breath, a 
 move, would have betrayed him. 
 
 But motionless as a stone hands upon his 
 weapon eyes smouldering the man behind the 
 rock watched the officers steal by. Not until they
 
 LINDY LOYD 5 
 
 were out of sight did he relax his hostile attitude. 
 
 "Yah, yah " he gibed, "an' I wuz right there ! 
 right there!" Throwing back his head he indulged 
 in silent, derisive laughter. "But 't wuz a close shave 
 damn 'em," he added, bitterly. 
 
 Collecting his "mash-pails," Dimitri Loyd went his 
 way down the mountain, he, too, following the bed 
 of the brook.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 NOW, Daddy, tell me," began Lindy, as she 
 dropped down on the step beside her father. 
 The day was over and her father, coat re- 
 moved and pipe in his mouth, sat comfortably tilted 
 in his accustomed corner of the porch. 
 
 "Ain't much to tell - this time" he added with 
 quiet significance. 
 
 "Them revenoors will get ye yet, Mitry Loyd," 
 warned Aunt Joan, from the doorway. 
 
 And the bitter, ancient feud burst forth : "Damned 
 revenoors " gesticulating with clenched fist 
 "a-sneakin' an' a-snoopin' I'll " 
 
 "Don't Daddy don't" soothed the girl, her 
 soft cheek on his. 
 
 "Dimitri Loyd air you-uns a-pinin' to have 
 blood upon yer soul?" sternly demanded Joan. 
 
 "Well, Joan, I wuz just a-waitin'," was the grim 
 response. 
 
 Shortly before Lindy's birth, Dimitri Loyd (com- 
 monly called Mitry) had drifted into the Tennessee 
 Mountains, locating where now the little family had 
 their home. Rumor declared them to be wanderers 
 upon the face of the earth and hinted a strain of 
 
 6
 
 gipsy blood, but no one ventured to demand the 
 truth of the matter. 
 
 Perhaps it was the birth of the little girl and the 
 consequent death of his wife it might have been 
 advancing years that quieted Mitry's inclination to 
 rove whatever the cause, he remained permanently 
 upon the mountain and found in the new experience 
 of fatherhood ever increasing solace. 
 
 Rugged in character, resolute, uncompromising, 
 he had won a place among the mountaineers by the 
 sheer force of his personality, and in his hazardous 
 employment of moonshining, which appealed espe- 
 cially to his type of character, had secured life and 
 stimulus. 
 
 Persistent, shrewd, far-seeing, utilizing his meager 
 opportunities to the best advantage, Mitry patiently 
 cleared and tilled his lease of land, becoming in time 
 its owner. In due course followed added stock, bet- 
 ter buildings and more comforts, generally. His 
 prohibited business also proving a source of income, 
 he attained to a fair degree of worldly prosperity. 
 
 Silence reigned upon the cabin porch after Dimitri 
 Loyd's outburst, each soul impressed according to 
 its wont by the possibilities suggested. 
 
 "Them durned revenoors war out after somebody," 
 presently remarked Mitry. "I wish " 
 
 "Yes, but don't let them get you," interrupted 
 Lindy. 
 
 "I won't" significantly ; and again silence fell.
 
 8 LINDY LOYD 
 
 The darkness deepened and from the earth arose 
 the spicy odor, the incomparable fragrance of the 
 mountain. Mingled with its dewy freshness came 
 the voices of the night: the frog's steady booming; 
 the dismal hoot of the owl; from time to time the 
 lone, sad call of the whippoorwill ; occasionally a 
 querulous bird-note. Frequently a strain of melody, 
 an echoing laugh or a call from some neighboring 
 home was carried on the breeze ; and presently, faint 
 and shadowy, a figure loomed in the distance. 
 
 "Hass Hicks," quietly remarked Lindy. 
 
 "Huh !" grunted Mitry. 
 
 "Been down to Dark Holler, I reckon," commented 
 Joan. 
 
 "Been a-hangin' 'round somewhere," muttered 
 Mitry. 
 
 "I wonder, mebbe hit's time for the hotel to open 
 up," went on Joan. 
 
 "Howdy, Hass," called the girl as the figure drew 
 near. "When does the hotel open?" 
 
 "Reckon hit be open now," responded the man, 
 pausing to lean upon the fence. 
 
 "Heern tell anything, Hass, down in Dark Hol- 
 ler?" queried Joan. 
 
 "Heern tell how them fool revenoors wuz a-layin' 
 for you-uns this mornin', Mitry," was the reply. 
 "Hite Cronce, he 'lowed them fellers went on over 
 the mountin'. Wish I'd a-been there," he added, 
 regretfully.
 
 LINDY LOYD 9 
 
 "Well, an' why wuzn't ye there?" Mitry demanded. 
 But Hass swung off in the darkness. 
 
 Harrison (or Hass) Hicks was a partner with 
 Mitry in raoonshining. He and his mother were the 
 Loyd's nearest neighbors and lived but a short dis- 
 tance farther up the trail. Hass was a wild, tem- 
 pestuous fellow, indifferent alike to the claims of 
 God and man. What appeared to him good, he gen- 
 erally secured, if at all possible. The one softening 
 influence in his life was "Leetle Lindy." About her, 
 as about a bright, particular star, revolved whatever 
 of good, whatever aspiration to better things he 
 might experience. Hass had long since determined 
 that Lindy should be his wife and in the common ac- 
 ceptance of the mountain vernacular, owing mainly, 
 however, to his persistence, the two were "a-spectin' 
 to be jined," an event which usually takes place very 
 early in the life of the mountain-girl. In fact, should 
 she be so unfortunate as to reach the mature age of 
 twenty years, unmarried, her name is dropped from 
 the "cull list." 
 
 In the case of Lindy, Hass had for a long time 
 urged his suit. Perhaps the tacit indifference 
 towards Hass evidenced by the members of her fam- 
 ily may have had its influence. Be that as it may, 
 Lindy's heart had remained untouched and Hass 
 was growing restive.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 HEY diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle," 
 floated out through the kitchen window. 
 Joan was doing her weekly baking in the big 
 oven beside the chimney and, as was her custom when 
 alone, sang or soliloquized. 
 
 Without doubt, Joan Loyd could be called an old 
 maid, not by right of years, but by right of that in- 
 definable something recognized as belonging to that 
 state. Plain in speech and manner she yet had a 
 sweet gift of sympathy which manifested itself 
 freely and unconsciously. Joan had also a fund of 
 humor, a most keen appreciation of the ludicrous, 
 which saved for her many a situation and made her a 
 merry companion. No gathering was considered 
 complete without her. 
 
 It certainly was bright and cheery in the kitchen. 
 The sun streamed through the open window upon 
 Peter, the big black cat, purring upon the sill. The 
 tins and utensils reflected the light ; the candle-sticks, 
 the old-fashioned brasses upon the mantel, the tops 
 of the fire-dogs and the big brass kettle shone like 
 gold. The puncheon floor was immaculate ; the bricks 
 in front of the wide fireplace were stained a deep red. 
 
 10
 
 LINDY LOYD 11 
 
 Back, within the chimney, resting firmly upon 
 ledges upon either side, stretched the iron lug-pole 
 from which hung various kinds and lengths of 
 hangers, claws and chains with hooks, upon which 
 the pots and kettles were suspended for cooking. In 
 one corner of the chimney swung the great iron pot ; 
 in the other were gathered a number of trivets, or 
 frames, upon which to place the cooking utensils. 
 Down in front of the embers was the Dutch-oven or 
 bake-kettle. 
 
 From the big oven stole delectable whiffs sugges- 
 tive of good things to come. Particularly was this 
 the case when Joan, seizing the long, wooden paddle, 
 performed sundry waves and passes within its cav- 
 ernous depths. Then Peter, sniffing the appetizing 
 odors, would stretch and roll luxuriously. "Don't 't 
 smell good, Peter?" chuckled Joan, closing the oven 
 door. 
 
 From the low, blackened rafters hung various 
 savory pieces of meat most toothsome in their cur- 
 ing; while strings of onions, dried fruits of different 
 kinds, bunches of herbs and other garden necessaries 
 were hung from poles laid across the rafters. 
 
 In one corner stood the spinning-wheel and loom; 
 along one side stretched a low, roughly made settle, 
 worn shiny with age and use. Over the top of the 
 door rested a couple of rifles, the powder-horns hang- 
 ing beneath. Stout wooden pegs, from which hung 
 various articles of clothing, were driven into the
 
 12 LINDY LOYD 
 
 sides of the cabin. A ladder-like contrivance, placed 
 against the side of the cabin, led into the loft above. 
 
 The family had been early astir this morning. 
 Contrary to the customary ethics of the mountaineer, 
 Dimitri Loyd himself cared for his live-stock, cut 
 the daily supply of fuel, and, when necessary, helped 
 with the milking. Nor did he require field work from 
 his womenfolk, securing extra help elsewhere, when 
 needed. 
 
 Immediately after breakfast Mitry and his dog 
 had taken the trail up the mountain, Ldndy had gone 
 down to the village and Joan and Peter were left 
 alone. Lindy declared Peter to be Aunt Joan's fa- 
 miliar. Be that as it may, he was devoted to his 
 mistress, usually found near her, and in many ways 
 was a remarkable cat. 
 
 Suddenly, with a low cry, he sat bolt upright, his 
 head thrust forward. "Did you say somebuddy wuz 
 a-comin', Peter?" and Joan peered through the 
 window. "Huh! thought so, Widder Hicks!" and 
 turning, Joan rapidly took stock of her possessions : 
 "cake-turner, candle-moulds, meat-chopper, quiltin'- 
 frames all yere. Now I wonder just what she's 
 a-goin' to borry this time? Ah now, Peter," coax- 
 ingly, "can't you stay?" But Peter was already 
 vanishing barnwards. "That cat never could a-bear 
 Brackie and I reckon he knows why, too," Joan 
 added, meaningly. 
 
 Brackie or "Widder" Hicks was a tall, thin woman
 
 LINDY LOYD 13 
 
 with keen black eyes and scanty gray hair which she 
 wore in an infinitesimal knot secured with a horn 
 comb. She had a melancholy cast of countenance, 
 was subject to gloomy forebodings and possessed an 
 ingenious faculty for extracting a hidden sting from 
 most of life's happenings. Along with this pessi- 
 mistic attitude was a lively, a most perennial interest 
 in the lives of others ; and being plain-spoken, with 
 no especial delicacy in regard to soliciting informa- 
 tion, Mrs. Hicks was, necessarily, acquainted with 
 the affairs of the entire neighborhood. 
 
 Brackie was Joan's nearest neighbor and the two, 
 despite the difference in years, were mutually de- 
 voted, and this, in spite of frequent "fallings out." 
 Truth to tell, Brackie's endeavors were largely 
 given to "keeping up" with the sprightly Joan, and 
 as Brackie was somewhat afflicted with deafness her 
 efforts in this direction were in no degree lessened. 
 
 As has been intimated, Mrs. Hicks was an incor- 
 rigible borrower. Upon Lindy, as upon the younger, 
 fell the burden of righting her easy-going ways and 
 more than once had the girl returned home, storming, 
 having scoured the entire neighborhood in the effort 
 to reclaim some bit of property. Along with her 
 peculiarities, however, Mrs. Hicks possessed a boun- 
 tifulness of sympathy and a practical helpfulness in 
 times of need which in large measure atoned. 
 
 " 'In the midst of life we air in death,' " Mrs. Hicks 
 began, as she dropped into a chair. "There's me,
 
 14 LINDY LOYD 
 
 now, walked right over one of them pizen moccasins, 
 back there; walked right over 'im, Joan, an' hit wuz 
 only the Lord's mercy that I didn't plant my foot 
 plum' on top of 'im ! How I do 'spise snakes," shud- 
 dering. 
 
 Joan's eyes twinkled. "What'd yuh do?" she in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Screeched and made for the fence fell all 
 over't, too. I 'clar for't, I'm that bruised " 
 
 "Well, you didn't step on 'im, Brackie, you can be 
 thankful for that," chuckled Joan. 
 
 "But I mought have, an' I don't see anything so 
 bodaciously funny 'bout 't, anyways, Joan," per- 
 sisted Mrs. Hicks, offended. 
 
 "No, there's nothin' funny 'bout a moccasin, 
 Brackie," soothed Joan. "I , I wuz just a-thinkin 
 'bout you-uns on top of that fence," she added, her 
 back turned towards her companion. 
 
 Mrs. Hicks eyed her doubtfully as she went on : 
 "Well, we never can tell just when the judgments of 
 the Almighty Oh, Joan " Her neck craned to 
 search the mantel. "You-uns ain't seen nothin' " 
 
 "No, I ain't seen nothin' an' they ain't on my 
 mantel-piece, nor anywheres in my house, neither!" 
 Joan snapped. 
 
 Mrs. Hicks turned a stony gaze upon Joan. 
 
 "A body'd think you'd have a place to keep 'em, 
 Brackie some place at hum," Joan went on. 
 
 "I have," was the frigid reply.
 
 LINDY LOYD 15 
 
 "Where, then?" demanded Joan. 
 
 "In that old cracked teapot as is a-settin' there 
 on my mantel-piece," rejoined Mrs. Hicks, with omin- 
 ous meekness. 
 
 "Well, for the lands sake, Brack Hicks, why don't 
 you keep 'em there?" Joan burst forth, recklessly. 
 "Such-like things belong in your mouth, anyways!" 
 she added. 
 
 "Reckon they's mine," icily. 
 
 "They'd orter be," significantly. 
 
 "A-meanin' " 
 
 "Well 'pears like they belong to the whole 
 neighborhood a heap of times, Brackie," ar- 
 raigned Joan. 
 
 Mrs. Hicks tied on her sun-bonnet and rose. "I'm 
 a-goin'," she said. 
 
 "Ah, now, Brackie, set dowfy, set down" coaxed 
 the repentant Joan. "You ain't told me a thing 
 yet." f .; % - > ' 
 
 "I 'clar for't, you do make me so mad, Joan." 
 
 "Haven't you-uns got nothin' to tell?" Joan per- 
 sisted. 
 
 "They's preachin' come next Sunday," was the 
 reply, and Mrs. Hicks sank back into her chair. 
 
 "Where in the church-house ?" 
 
 "Yep." 
 
 "Who, Brackie?" 
 
 "Brother Burruss. An' I reckon you-alls had 
 better be there, Joan. Miz Burruss, she have been
 
 16 LINDY LOYD 
 
 daid for some time, now," she added, glancing slyly 
 at her companion. But Joan received her suggestion 
 in dignified silence. 
 
 Brother Burruss's visits to the settlement were of 
 the nature of events. Although perfectly illiterate, 
 he possessed considerable force of character. Com- 
 bined with his religious belief was a strong sense of 
 responsibility in regard to it and a boldness of utter- 
 ance. He had, also, a rude gift in oratory, deliv- 
 ering his sermons with directness and force. His 
 pleadings, his denunciations swept over his congre- 
 gation like a flood. Following the ethics of the 
 mountaineer, Brother Burruss preached for the 
 love of it his support being derived elsewhere. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Hicks went on, "Ain't 't time Lindy 
 got back from Dark Holler? Ain't seen her for a 
 right smart whiles, Joan," meaningly. 
 
 Joan made no reply. 
 
 "Lindy usen't to be that a-ways, but Hass well, 
 Hass, he's a patient kind of a feller an " 
 
 "Patient Hass patient?" flared Joan, "there's 
 no such great patience as I can see. Lindy, she's 
 just turned sixteen and, well, this yere life's a 
 moughty uncertain thing, Brack Hicks, moughty un- 
 certain; an' in more ways than one," she concluded 
 with significance. 
 
 "Mebbe so, mebbe so, Joan," hurriedly acquiesced 
 Mrs. Hicks. "Well, I must be a-goin. Can I borry 
 some aigs off you-uns, Joan? My hens ain't a-layin',
 
 LINDY LOYD 17 
 
 yere, lately. Sumpin's got up with 'em." Securing 
 the eggs, Mrs. Hicks departed. 
 
 Joan stood for a moment in the middle of the 
 kitchen floor, her eyes retrospective. "Patient 
 Hass Hicks patient !" she reiterated, scornfully. 
 Stepping out upon the porch her eyes searched the 
 trail leading down the mountain.
 
 CHAPTEB, IV 
 
 NOT many years since, Dark Hollow was a 
 quaint, old-fashioned village hidden away 
 among the mountains, a quiet, most charm- 
 ing little village where one could find rest for body 
 and soul. 
 
 But the railroad pushed its way into Dark Hollow. 
 Soon "Northern Enterprise," recognizing the great 
 natural advantages, healthful climate, medicinal 
 waters and wild beauty of the locality, seized upon 
 the village and it became a thriving summer resort. 
 
 Dark Hollow is delightfully picturesque. Its wide, 
 shaded streets climb up and over, intersect and end 
 in the most irresponsible way. But the crowning 
 beauty of the village is the old stone church which 
 dates back over a century. Right at this point the 
 street divides to form a V-shaped section and well 
 within this section, surrounded by the grand old 
 trees that fill the yard, stands the ivy-covered 
 church. 
 
 Behind the church rambles the old graveyard. 
 Wandering along its shady paths one comes upon 
 many an honored name recalling the horrors of the 
 Civil War. Above the quiet dead is heard the un- 
 
 18
 
 LINDY LOYD 19 
 
 ceasing lament of the pines, while over all, dominat- 
 ing all, lies the brooding sadness of the mountains. 
 
 Meanwhile, Lindy, her purpose accomplished, had 
 turned towards home. The freshness and charm of 
 the early hours yet lingered, and as the girl stepped 
 blithely along the village street, every pulse thrilling 
 with life, her brilliant coloring and dusky hair em- 
 phasized by the dark blue home-spun that clothed her 
 pretty figure, she was herself an exemplification of 
 the opening day. 
 
 Presently the girl reached the bridge that spanned 
 the mountain brook. Allured by its witching call 
 she leaned far over the old stone parapet to listen 
 as it chattered of its wanderings of cool, shady 
 reaches and shining bottoms ; of dim, mysterious 
 courses and bold plunges ; of the deep, black holes 
 where speckled trout sported. 
 
 Farther along the street was the new schoolhouse, 
 in process of erection. A group of villagers were 
 standing near, among them, Hugh Humphrey, but re- 
 cently returned to his native town. As Lindy passed 
 the building she paused a moment, attracted by the 
 busy scene. 
 
 At this instant a workman carrying a heavy hod 
 of bricks stepped out upon the narrow platform di- 
 rectly above the girl. As he slowly turned to deliver 
 his load, his foot caught in some projection and he 
 stumbled. 
 
 Unconscious of her peril, deaf to the shouts of the
 
 20 LINDY LOYD 
 
 spectators, Lindy stood breathless, her horrified gaze 
 fixed upon the struggling man, who, finally, was 
 obliged to release his burden which fell crashing 
 down below. 
 
 A rush of air a smothered oath and Hugh 
 Humphrey had seized the girl and dragged her 
 to a place of safety. "God, girl " he panted, his 
 eyes upon his attractive burden. 
 
 Faint, sick with fright, Lindy remained for a mo- 
 ment quiet within Hugh's arms, her eyes closed. "Is 
 is he dead?" she breathed. 
 
 "No the man's all right it was the bricks 
 that fell but you are you all right, Lindy ? 
 Lindy Loyd?" Hugh added, softly. 
 
 The girl's eyes flew wide, then 
 
 "Yes, it's Hugh. I have come back, you see," he 
 went on, simply, his eyes glued to hers, his arms still 
 about her. 
 
 "Yes, I'm all right, too," breathed the girl, strug- 
 gling to her feet. 
 
 "But are you sure?" relinquishing her slowly. 
 
 "Oh, yes, see?" Shyly lifting her eyes, Lindy met 
 Hugh's ardent gaze. Startled the brilliant color 
 flooding her cheek, she turned away. "I I must 
 go now," she stammered. 
 
 Modestly receiving the congratulations of those 
 about her, Lindy hurried up the mountain "like a 
 bird to its cover." Reaching the old lumber camp, 
 a favorite resort since childhood days, she flung her-
 
 LINDY LOYD 21 
 
 self beneath a giant pine, burying her face in the 
 fragrant needles. 
 
 Lindy had never forgotten Hugh the big boy 
 at school; always kind, always ready to protect her, 
 to help her in any and all of her difficulties and 
 the recognition had been mutual. With the throng- 
 ing memories came the realization of their meaning 
 and the girl hid her face. Presently she whis- 
 pered : "Yes, he is handsome he is brave and 
 he is strong! Oh, yes, he is strong," she reiterated, 
 her eyes retrospective. And with shining eyes Lindy 
 pursued her way up the trail. 
 
 Hugh Humphrey turned to meet the grinning faces 
 about him. 
 
 "Feel good, Doc?" leered a tipsy loafer. 
 
 Hugh's face went white. 
 
 "Yah, yah " and the tipsy one broke into 
 maudlin laughter. "Why didn't you kiss her? She 
 wouldn't a-keered, none," he jeered. 
 
 Hugh's fist shot out and the man lay upon the 
 ground. 
 
 "Aw, now, son," soothed a grizzled veteran, push- 
 ing forward. "You done us all proud you done us 
 all proud" he reiterated; and seizing Hugh's hand, 
 he shook it, heartily. 
 
 "Yes, that's so that's right," agreed the crowd. 
 Turning an indifferent ear to the commendations of 
 his companions, Hugh swung off up the village street. 
 "Gad ! so that was Lindy Loyd !" he meditated,
 
 22 LINDY LOYD 
 
 flinging out his arms still tingling from the touch of 
 her girlish body. 
 
 Striding along, Hugh went over each detail. "But 
 she is charming charming" he muttered, as Lin- 
 dy's beauty, her quiet, self-possessed bearing passed 
 swiftly before his mind. "But Lindy was always like 
 that different somehow," he added. 
 
 Hugh Humphrey was the son of the village doctor 
 Dr. James Hugh Humphrey. During the past 
 four years Hugh had been studying medicine at one 
 of the Northern universities. Chiefly on account of 
 the cost of travel, partly, too, because his vacations 
 were employed in earning money to further defray 
 his college expenses, Hugh had remained away from 
 Dark Hollow during this entire period. The recent 
 illness and death of his father had recalled him to 
 his home. 
 
 The settlement of Dr. Humphrey's estate left very 
 little aside from the old home, and deciding to re- 
 main for a time in Dark Hollow, Hugh had found 
 employment for the summer at the hotel. 
 
 The innovations the transitions time had made 
 during his absence were a constant source of sur- 
 prise to Hugh and that the beautiful girl he had 
 rescued should have proven to be the pretty child 
 he had admired in schoolboy days, was positively be- 
 wildering. But that it was Lindy, was beyond ques- 
 tion. One flash from those wonderful eyes had per- 
 fectly established her identity.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE following Sunday dawned, cloudless. 
 Religious services were of rare occurrence 
 in the mountains. News of the 'Preachin', 
 however, had been freely circulated and long before 
 the hour for meeting had arrived, the mountaineers 
 were gathering in the church-house. 
 
 From valley and cove, from bleak, apparently 
 inaccessible heights and from the hidden places 
 on foot, in vehicles of every sort and description, by 
 horse, by mule and by bull, following the innumerable 
 trails which, like threads, cross and re-cross in every 
 direction, they came. The old and middle-aged 
 gaunt of body, hopeless, indifferent the young, 
 the babies in arms even the faithful house-dog 
 all were there. 
 
 The church-house was built of logs. It had two 
 front doors one for the women, the other for the 
 men. On either side of the building were two win- 
 dows. At the rear, a rude platform supported an 
 equally rude pulpit. In front of the latter, upon a 
 small table, stood a pail of water with a drinking- 
 gourd, to which the congregation resorted at any 
 and all times. The benches were simply rough boards, 
 
 23
 
 24 LINDY LOYD 
 
 destitute of backs. These, with a rusty stove, com- 
 pleted the furnishings. 
 
 The women and girls, plainly clad, were seated in 
 rows upon one side of the building. Generally 
 speaking, the women were thin, worn and hopeless- 
 appearing for the mountain woman marries young 
 and fades young. In addition to the cares of mother- 
 hood and cabin, she is expected to help in all the 
 work of the farm, field work not excepted and 
 when from the shelter of a sun-bonnet a young, care- 
 free face looked forth, the effect was startling by 
 contrast. 
 
 Opposite, usually attired in "jeans" and checked 
 cotton shirt the customary gun close at hand 
 sat the men their beards long and ragged, their 
 hair unshorn for many a day. With gaunt bodies 
 relaxed in the manner that most appealed to them 
 with quid in mouth and freely expectorating they 
 sat with listless, melancholy faces upturned to the 
 speaker, or, if so inclined, bent over a bit of whit- 
 tling. 
 
 As has been intimated, Brother Burruss's sermons 
 were matters to be reckoned with. For two hours 
 he had held them spellbound, the children long since 
 yielding to sleep, the dogs cuffed into silence. And 
 now, as the afternoon drew to a close, his hearers still 
 sat, breathless, swept and dominated by the fire and 
 passion of the preacher, who, white and spent, 
 towered in denunciation above them.
 
 LINDY LOYD 25 
 
 "An' ye will call on the mountains to fall on ye, 
 an' the hills to kiver ye !" he cried, bringing his ser- 
 mon to a close. 
 
 Stepping out to the edge of the platform he leaned 
 far over, his arm raised in accusation, his voice vi- 
 brant, and solemnly enunciated: "But yo-alls gotter 
 be there !" reiterating slowly, his voice a tense whis- 
 per: "gotter be right there!" For an instant he 
 stood, his arm outstretched, his burning gaze fixed. 
 Suddenly he dropped upon his knees. And over the 
 congregation swept a long, drawn breath. Gather- 
 ing up their sleeping children, they quietly left the 
 house.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 IMMEDIATELY after the service, Lindy and 
 Hass Hicks started down the trail. 
 
 "Heern tell you-uns wuz down to Dark Hol- 
 ler, yesterday," Hass began, searching the girl's 
 face. 
 
 Lindy's face flamed, but she made no reply. 
 
 "I wuz down there, too hit wuz last night," 
 Hass went on, with significance. 
 
 Still Lindy held her peace. 
 
 "An' Hite Cronce, he 'lowed that city feller " 
 
 "Oh, yes, Hass, I was down " 
 
 "Yanked you-uns out the way just in time," con- 
 cluded her tormentor. 
 
 "Yes, just in time," reiterated the girl, softly, a 
 sweet, retrospective look stealing over her face. 
 
 Hass eyed her, miserably. 
 
 They had halted under a huge oak and Lindy, sun- 
 bonnet tossed aside, her hands clasped back of her 
 head, chin uptilted, was leaning gracefully against 
 it. As she stood there, so provocative in her proud, 
 young beauty, Hass's smouldering jealousy burst 
 forth. 
 
 26
 
 LINDY LOYD 27 
 
 "Lindy, wuz you-uns in that feller's arms, yes- 
 terday? Wuz you? Tell me now!" he hissed, his 
 face thrust forward. 
 
 But Lindy never heard him. Oblivious of the 
 present of Hass of everything, the girl was 
 back in the realms of yesterday. 
 
 It was more than mortal man could endure. "An' 
 that dad-burned foreigner can take you-uns in his 
 arms an' me an' me Gol-darn 'im !" Hass 
 shouted. Quivering with rage, he stood for a second, 
 staring at the girl, then "Well, if he can so 
 can I " and before the astonished girl could grasp 
 the situation, Hass had seized her in his arms and had 
 kissed her. 
 
 White, speechless with indignation, Lindy tore her- 
 self away and confronted him. 
 
 "You-uns war so darned purty I just nacherly had 
 to," he muttered. 
 
 Still Lindy stood speechless. 
 
 "I never have before riot once ! Wisht I 
 had now," he went on, becoming bolder. 
 
 Panting, bewitching in her fury, Lindy stood, her 
 scathing eyes upon his. Suddenly she turned and 
 without a word sped down the mountain. 
 
 Hass seized the sun-bonnet and kept close at her 
 heels, hoping to pacify her. But not one word did 
 Lindy vouchsafe; and reaching her home she burst 
 into the house and slammed the door in his face. 
 
 "The tarnal leetle beauty! but I'll tame her,
 
 28 LINDY LOYD 
 
 yet," Hass gritted; and hanging the sun-bonnet on 
 the fence, he departed. 
 
 Safe in the privacy of her room, Lindy gave way 
 to her pent-up emotion : "How dared he ? how 
 dared lie the beast !" she demanded, the angry 
 tears falling. "If Daddy only knew but I dare not 
 tell Daddy he'd shoot him he would ! Ugh ! I 
 can feel his arms about me, yet!" and the girl 
 writhed. Suddenly she stood stock still, the sweet, 
 retrospective look again in her eyes. Then, with 
 darkening face, her mouth a straight line, she cried, 
 passionately: "Marry Hass Hicks? marry him? 
 never ! never !" 
 
 Joan, meanwhile, was preparing the evening meal 
 Peter purring and coaxing at her side. 
 
 The kitchen was filled with appetizing odors : the 
 potatoes were roasting in the ashes ; the bacon and 
 eggs sizzled upon the trivets ; from the bake-kettle 
 standing among the coals were presently to be 
 taken biscuits unequalled by any modern form of 
 cookery; while over all, penetrating through all, 
 arose the incomparable aroma of coffee. 
 
 In one corner of the fireplace, tilted comfortably 
 against the jamb, Mitry Loyd awaited supper. 
 
 "Where's Cita?" he inquired. 
 
 Joan heaped more coals about the bake-kettle ere 
 she replied, irrelevantly, "Hass Hicks, he got his 
 kem-uppins this day an I, for one, am glad of it. 
 Mitry Loyd? " and Joan rose and confronted him,
 
 LINDY LOYD 29 
 
 "Hass Hicks, he ain't no more fit for Lindy than 
 than Well he ain't fit! that's all, an you-uns 
 knows it." 
 
 "No he ain't fit," growled Mitry; "an he's 
 a-gettin so dad-busted presumin', yere lately, that 
 me'n him are just nacherly 'bliged to kem to blows 
 
 before long, too," he added. "Did Hass bring " 
 "Huh!" Joan interrupted, "Hass brung home 
 
 Lindy's sun-bunnit can't say he brung her. Must 
 have had some kind of a flare-up," she went on. 
 "Lindy, she kem a-stepping along, head up, just like 
 she had wings to her feet. Hass, he kem on behind ; 
 had all he could do to keep up with her, too ;" and 
 Joan chuckled at the recollection. "Bring Lindy? 
 
 Laws-a-massy, Mitry ! Lindy, she kem through 
 that gate and into the house like a whirl-wind and 
 slam bang went the door, plum' in Hass's face 
 
 an he stood there just a-gawpin a-hangin 
 onto the bunnit." 
 
 "Served 'im right dad-bust 'im !" blazed Mitry. 
 "Been up to some of his darn foolishness, I reckon." 
 
 "Most likely," agreed Joan. 
 
 Presently Lindy entered the kitchen. Going 
 straight to her father the girl laid her arms about 
 his neck and lifted her face to his. For the space of 
 a second neither spoke. 
 
 "Did you-uns take keer of yerself, Cita?" Mitry 
 inquired, solemnly. 
 
 "Yes, Daddy," with unfaltering gaze.
 
 30 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "I'm right yere, Cita," significantly. 
 
 "I'm here, too, Daddy," replied the girl, a deter- 
 mined look stealing over her face. 
 
 And Mitry's arms closed tightly about her. "That 
 suits me just," was the answer adding, with 
 apparent irrelevance, "The damned whelp !" 
 
 Late that night the moon peering between the 
 quivering branches gazed directly into the wide-open 
 eyes of the girl and received her whispered confi- 
 dence : "I'll never marry Hass Hicks ! never 
 never!" 
 
 Shortly after, Mitry Loyd placed a tiny revolver 
 in the hands of his daughter. "Hit won't hurt ye 
 none," he said.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 EARLY the next morning Lindy started up the 
 mountain after huckleberries. 
 
 "Don't exactly like that bunch of clouds 
 over yonder, Lindy," warned Aunt Joan, "better not 
 go too far." 
 
 "I'll watch out " and the girl was off. 
 
 Scorning any trail, Lindy chose a direct route to 
 her destination and with the sure foot of the moun- 
 taineer scaled heights, sprang from crag to crag 
 and soon reached the berry section where the luscious 
 fruit grew in its perfection both "high" bush and 
 "low." Filling her pails the girl took the trail to 
 Dark Hollow, delivered her berries at the hotel and 
 returned up the mountain by way of the old lumber 
 camp. Flinging herself wearily beneath the old pine, 
 Lindy gazed dreamily overhead, lulled by its low, 
 sweet song. 
 
 Between the branches she could catch glimpses of 
 feathery clouds, floating. High in the ether a hawk 
 was slowly circling. Just over her head, a great 
 brown wood-spider had hung his filmy web. To her 
 ears came the "cheep-cheep" of the young partridge 
 and the sharp bark of the squirrels chasing from tree 
 
 81
 
 32 LINDY LOYD 
 
 to tree. Closer, a pair of chipmunks chattered and 
 scolded as they whisked over and under the old skid- 
 way; while the birds, upon household duties in- 
 tent, kept up a constant warbling and calling. Lying 
 upon the needles, Lindy vied with the merry song- 
 sters, mocking, longing, entreating : "Pee-a-wee 
 pee-a-wee pee-a-wee m she called, plaintively. 
 
 "Pee-a-wee pee-a-wee-a-peer," answered the pe- 
 wee-bird. 
 
 "Chu-it chu-it chu-it chu-it wit-chu-it 
 chew," whistled the girl in response to a yellow- 
 warbler. 
 
 "Cheer-up cheer-up cheer-up " a robin 
 chirped, gaily. 
 
 "Cheer-up cheerily cheerily " she lilted 
 with exquisite mimicry. 
 
 "Tru-al-ly? tru-al-ly? tru-al-ly? " ques- 
 tioned the bluebird. 
 
 "Yes tru-al-ly tru-al-ly tru-al-ly " 
 laughed the girl, every pulse thrilling with the song 
 of life. 
 
 The sweet-scented woods were riotous with the ap- 
 peal. The winds sang it, the leaves whispered it, all 
 nature proclaimed it. 
 
 Hugh Humphrey, too, heard the call. "I'll find 
 her," he breathed as he followed Lindy up the trail. 
 "Ah here " 
 
 i I am indebted to "Bird Neighbors" by Neltje Blanchant 
 for the bird-notes; also to "Field Book of Wild Birds and 
 their Music" by F. S. Matthews. M. E. H.
 
 LINDY LOYD 33 
 
 Over the old camp the sun had flung a sheen of gold. 
 Sifting through the foliage it danced in tremulous 
 flecks of light and fell in golden bars across the shad- 
 ows. Creeping into dark and secret places, search- 
 ing, coaxing, its warm, caressing rays had hidden 
 with a tangle of new growth the neglected heaps of 
 sawdust and chips, of brushwood and logs and cov- 
 ered with a living mantle the unsightly "donkey" 
 platform and rotting skid-way. 
 
 A pink sun-bonnet fluttered gaily from the top of a 
 stick driven down into an old stump. This strange 
 bit of forest furniture in no slightest degree dis- 
 turbed the habitues of the camp. In like measure 
 they had accepted the owner of the sun-bonnet, 
 within whose vicinity the riot of melody had con- 
 centrated. 
 
 "Wit witch-e-ry witch-e-ry witch-e-ry 
 witch " sang the yellow- thro at. 
 
 "Which-is-it which-is-it which-is-it? 
 which?" mocked the girl under the pine ; and Hugh 
 hurried eagerly forward. 
 
 "You still mimic the birds, Lindy," he cried. "I 
 thought you were one of them and but for this " 
 indicating the sun-bonnet "I should not have found 
 you." 
 
 "Were you looking for me?" Lindy inquired, shyly. 
 
 Hugh scanned the guileless face then answered, 
 as frankly : "Yes I wanted to find you I 
 wanted "
 
 34 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Lindy's face flushed. "I I have been berryin' 
 see?" she interrupted, holding out her hands for 
 inspection. 
 
 But Hugh went on: "I wanted to satisfy myself 
 that it was really you, Lindy and not some elf- 
 child that I had in my aw er that I saw in 
 Dark Hollow, the other day," he finished, lamely. 
 
 A wave of brilliant color swept over the girl's 
 face. "You you saved my life " she whispered. 
 
 "Oh aw that's all right," broke in Hugh, as 
 he, too, dropped down beneath the pine. 
 
 Presently Hugh began: "I am to be employed at 
 the hotel, this summer, Lindy; I am to drive for 
 Miss Lucie Simmons." 
 
 "Oh for Miss Lucie? then she has come up !" 
 
 "Yes you know her?" 
 
 "I love her," was the simple reply. 
 
 "I have my father's horses; it is better for 
 them and incidentally it is better for me," he 
 continued. 
 
 Miss Lucie Simmons was a cripple. To an incur- 
 able spinal affection were added other complications, 
 so that her life was seldom free from pain. Miss 
 Lucie's summers were spent in Dark Hollow and to 
 Lindy, her arrival was an event. Quick to recog- 
 nize the innate worth of the mountain-girl, charmed 
 by her bright beauty and attractiveness, Miss Lucie 
 had early made herself Lindy's friend. Miss Lucie 
 was attended by "Mammy Lou", her nurse since
 
 LINDY LOYD 35 
 
 babyhood. Mammy was, also, the sole surviving 
 member of Miss Lucie's family. 
 
 "When the summer is over ah, well I don't 
 know as to that," Hugh went on, presently, respon- 
 sive to the girl's unspoken sympathy. 
 
 "You you mean your studies?" Lindy 
 queried, softly. 
 
 "Yes that is one thing ; but my mother needs 
 me now and my studies must wait. I must 
 arrange for her comfort, first." 
 
 "Ah yes ! your mother ;" and the girl's voice 
 was wistful. 
 
 In the meantime, entirely unnoticed by the two 
 "That bunch of clouds" had concentrated and a 
 violent storm, heralded by a sudden gust, a darken- 
 ing sky and a rumble of thunder, was almost upon 
 them. 
 
 Now Lindy dreaded a thunder-storm; her fear 
 being pre-natal, was, in a sense, beyond control. "Oh, 
 Hugh! will it be very bad?" she cried. 
 
 A blinding flash, followed by another, and yet an- 
 other, accompanied by an apparent rending of the 
 entire universe, was the reply: then came the 
 downpour. 
 
 "Let's run for the cave," gasped the girl. 
 
 "Cave where?" shouted Hugh, in the uproar. 
 
 "Oh I don't know somewhere ah, here !" 
 stumbling blindly along, the terrified girl led the way 
 to a narrow opening in the rock completely over-
 
 36 LINDY LOYD 
 
 grown with vines. Tearing aside the leafy covering 
 they hurried through the fissure, entered the cave 
 and were at once relieved from the deluge. 
 
 White, nerveless, Lindy crouched, shuddering, 
 upon the floor, her hands in Hugh's firm clasp. 
 
 It was a tiny refuge, suggesting the one-time lair 
 of some beast of the forest ; but as Hugh's eyes be- 
 came accustomed to the gloom, he discovered evi- 
 dences of a human and a more recent occupant : rem- 
 nants of discarded treasures incident to childhood 
 days perhaps to a more recent date. 
 
 "Isn't that a book, Lindy lying over yonder?" 
 indicating an object in the dimness. 
 
 Lindy peered into the shadows. "It's Miss Lucie's 
 *Lucille' ! I must have left it Oh oh " and 
 the girl cowered before the storm. 
 
 "Listen Lindy " and Hugh endeavored to 
 reason with her. 
 
 "Oh, yes I know, Hugh and I do try ; but 
 I cannot seem to help it. I cannot explain, exactly" 
 and she lifted puzzled brows "but it is as if 
 as if I were someone else somehow." 
 
 "Were you ever hurt by a storm, Lindy ? or 
 you may have inherited your fear." 
 
 "I wonder " presently Lindy added, softly. 
 "Aunt Joan said my mother was terribly frightened 
 by a thunder-storm once; it was just a little 
 while before I was born; Aunt Joan said mother 
 was flung and somebody was killed. Maybe
 
 LINDY LOYD 37 
 
 but indeed I am sorry, Hugh," she added, sweetly, 
 her eyes troubled. 
 
 "I think you cannot help your fear, Lindy," Hugh 
 soothed. 
 
 In the meantime, the violence of the storm had less- 
 ened. Soon a shaft of golden light stole through the 
 fissure and immediately the air was filled with the 
 fragrance of fresh earth and of growing things ; a 
 bird called from a thicket nearby and they knew 
 the storm was over.
 
 CHAPTEB VIII 
 
 LINDY," began Joan, "I'm just 'bliged to go up 
 to Neelie Horn's; can't seem to get 'er off 
 my mind not since Sam Horn, he told me 
 she war so mis'ble like. I dreampt about 'er again 
 last night that's the third time an 't air born 
 in upon me that I just nacherly have to go up there." 
 This conversation occurred a few days after the 
 meeting in the church-house. 
 
 "We might go up this morning," suggested the 
 girl. 
 
 "So we might then. An we-uns'll go round by 
 Miz Etter's an stop in, a minute." 
 
 "A body'd think Miz Etter couldn't last much 
 longer," said Joan, later, as she added jelly and a 
 bottle of cordial to her already well-filled basket and 
 the two started up the mountain. 
 
 "There's 'Aunt' Polly, now over in the corn- 
 patch," said Lindy, as they neared the cabin. 
 
 Aunt Polly was an old colored woman. Her fam- 
 ily dead and scattered, she had drifted into the set- 
 tlement and had become a member of Si Etter's 
 household. 
 
 "Howdy, Aunt Polly howdy," called Lindy. 
 38
 
 LINDY LOYD 39 
 
 "Mo'nin, Missy, mo'nin' " she responded, coming 
 to the fence. 
 
 "How's Miz Etter, Polly?" Joan inquired. 
 
 "Miz Sally is sho' po'ly, Mistiss," replied the old 
 woman. "Miz Sally, she won't be yere long no- 
 ways," she added, nodding her head, impressively. 
 
 Entering the house, Joan dispensed her comforts 
 and her cheer and presently they turned to go. 
 
 "I don't see but that Miz Etter seems 'bout as 
 usual, Polly," said Joan, lingering outside. 
 
 But Aunt Polly refused to be cheered. "She won't 
 be yere long, Mistiss noways" she reiterated. 
 "I'se sho' had de wa'nin," she mumbled, turning 
 away. 
 
 "What's that, Polly?" coaxed Joan, "tell me." 
 
 "Mistiss," she began, her voice a whisper, "I war 
 a-totin in de wood last night, and a lil white dog, he 
 run des befo' me; an when I stoop to pat 'im he 
 wan' dar; he wan't nowhar." And Aunt Polly 
 glanced apprehensively around. 
 
 The two women stood, breathless. 
 
 "An right in de daid of de night," Aunt Polly con- 
 tinued, "cum de tap tap tap, three times on my 
 do'; an when I opened it, Mistiss, wan't nobuddy 
 dar nobuddy." 
 
 "Shucks, Polly!" cried Joan, "you war 
 a-dreamin !" 
 
 "I wan't a-dreamin, Mistiss," muttered the old 
 woman as she returned to her work.
 
 40 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Disquieted by old Polly's forebodings the two pro- 
 ceeded silently and timorously along the mountain- 
 road. 
 
 "Land-sakes ! Lindy but wuzn't old Polly fear- 
 some?" breathed Joan, glancing apprehensively over 
 her shoulder. 
 
 It was a road utterly inconceivable to any but to 
 a native ; with great upheavals of solid rock 
 washed perfectly bare by the mountain torrents, and 
 with deep gullies to be encountered at any step of 
 the way. 
 
 Crossing an empty, desolate tract which marked 
 the path of a mountain-fire, they entered an old log- 
 road and were immediately enveloped by the forest. 
 
 Presently, heralded by a cheerful "Gee haw 
 gee!" an ox-cart came into view. The cart was a 
 skeleton-like affair, rudely constructed, unwieldy 
 and drawn by a single ox. "Howdy howdy " 
 gaily called the driver as he passed on down the 
 mountain. 
 
 The woods were vivid with life. On every side 
 were blooms, beneath, a wilderness of growth. To 
 the ears came the bewitching voice of the woods : the 
 tinkle, tinkle, tinkle of the unseen stream; the end- 
 less variety of call and song. Rare butterflies flitted 
 before them; occasionally a rabbit or some timid 
 wood-dweller scurried by ; once, an old owl gave them 
 a sleepy "Whoo hoo hoo !" On the top of a 
 rock a black snake lay coiled, his sinuous folds shin-
 
 LINDY LOYD 41 
 
 ing in the sun ; once, the "br-r-r-r " of the rattle- 
 snake came to their ears and Lindy's fingers tight- 
 ened upon the tiny protector within her bosom. But 
 the rattler is usually a peaceful enough fellow, un- 
 less disturbed, and they passed quickly on. Occa- 
 sionally an abandoned "lean-to" marked the lumber- 
 man's track ; at times, the faint, unmistakable odor 
 of boiling "mash" was born upon the breeze and a 
 moonshiner's "crib" for those who knew where to 
 look could be descried within the "bresh." 
 
 As they ascended, penetrating yet farther into the 
 hidden places, the scenery became more wild and 
 rugged. About them, giant rocks lay piled; be- 
 neath were yawning chasms. Nature grew silent and 
 the solemnity of the forest enfolded them; even the 
 bird-songs were hushed ; only the plaintive song 
 of the pines was heard. 
 
 Skilfully skirting a "blow-down" an accumula- 
 tion of rotting trunks and forest-debris, beneath 
 which may very well lurk a fathomless grave they 
 left the now faintly indicated log-road and proceeded 
 directly up the dry bed of a brook, which, rushing 
 between precipitous rocks, past gaping fissures, had 
 torn for itself a path down the mountain. Presently 
 they emerged upon the top. 
 
 "Land-a-livin' ! Lindy," gasped Joan as she 
 dropped panting upon the rock and proceeded to 
 mop her heated face, "to think of havin' to live clear 
 up yere on the top this a-ways ! Huh !" she con-
 
 42 LINDY LOYD 
 
 tinued, emphatically, "Hit wouldn't be me ! the last 
 man on the face of the earth wouldn't be good enough 
 for me to foller up yere! No sir-e-e-! Poor 
 Neelie " she added. 
 
 But Lindy was dreaming dreams. "Maybe she 
 loved him, Aunt Joan," she said, softly. 
 
 Joan glanced sharply at the unconscious girl. 
 "Don't tell me it is Hass Hicks, Lindy," she broke 
 forth, significantly. 
 
 Lindy turned a startled face to Joan. "Hass 
 Hass Hicks? Oh, no it isn't Hass. It why 
 it isn't anybody at least " she stammered in 
 rosy confusion. 
 
 "Well just so 't ain't Hass," soothed Joan ; and 
 silence fell. 
 
 "You-uns ain't never told me yet, 'bout that 
 young feller as saved yer life, Lindy, down there in 
 Dark Holler," Joan went on. 
 
 "Didn't didn't Daddy tell you, Aunt Joan?" 
 
 "Yep, he told me; but I reckoned you-uns 
 might like to say sumpin 'bout 't yerself mebbe," 
 Joan urged, gently. 
 
 And Lindy told her. 
 
 "You-uns certainly war nigh unto death that 
 time, Lindy," Joan declared, solemnly, the recital 
 ended. 
 
 "Yes," assented the girl. 
 
 Presently Joan broke out : "Good-land ! but I wuz 
 plum' worried 'bout you-uns the yuther day whenst
 
 LINDY LOYD 43 
 
 you war out in that thunder-storm, a-knowin' just 
 how you be. That makes twict, now, that young feller, 
 he have took keer of you, Lindy," she concluded, her 
 eyes upon the girl. 
 
 "Yes " replied Lindy, the lovely color sweeping 
 over her face. "Hugh always did that at school 
 Aunt Joan looked after me," she added. 
 
 Joan sat quiet, her brooding gaze upon the dis- 
 tance. "Is he fit is he fit, Lindy?" she warned. 
 "Sometimes them city fellers well they're no 
 'count at all." 
 
 "Hugh he is very nice Aunt Joan," laughed 
 Lindy, happily, with guileless eyes uplifted. ' 
 
 "Well the old doctor, he war a nice old feller 
 reckon the son orter be, too," and Joan rose to go on. 
 
 The Horns lived just over the crest of the moun- 
 tain and in this bleak, inaccessible spot with no 
 road but the bed of the brook they had lived, 
 father and son, for generations. Their isolation was 
 inconceivable. Shut off from contact with their kind 
 they became, of necessity, but a reproduction of a by- 
 gone time ; and poorly nourished, illiterate, supersti- 
 tious, with existence bare of all but the absolute 
 necessaries of life very frequently even these were 
 absent they were a fair representation of the 
 poorer class of mountain whites. 
 
 The cabin consisted of one room, built directly 
 against a huge rock which also helped serve the pur- 
 pose of a chimney. The cabin was of logs, its crev-
 
 44 LINDY LOYD 
 
 ices tightly "chinked" with clay and stones ; the floor 
 was of puncheon. Directly opposite the fireplace 
 was a low, battened door ; upon the outside, as a pro- 
 tection against "hants" was sketched a frog's foot, 
 while just above, for the reason, hung a horse- 
 shoe. On each side of the cabin was a small, ba- 
 tened window ; in one corner was the loft-hole, reached 
 by stout, wooden pegs driven into auger-holes. A 
 table, chair and three beds rough, box-like affairs 
 filled with dried grass completed the furnishings, 
 all of which were home-made, cumbersome and smoke- 
 blackened. 
 
 Directly over the door, placed upon two wooden 
 pins where it had probably rested for generations 
 was an old-fashioned flint-lock, or gun, with the 
 use of which the mountain-woman is expected to be 
 familiar; below, hung the powder-horn and shot- 
 pouch ; nearby hung the bull-harness the bull 
 taking the place of horse or mule in the work of the 
 farm. A "flitch" of bacon, one or two pieces of 
 "hawg-meat" and a few articles representing posi- 
 tive necessities, hung from the blackened rafters. 
 Upon the table and ranged upon a shelf running 
 along one side of the cabin was a scanty array of 
 battered dishes and cooking utensils. 
 
 Outside the cabin stood the big iron pot a fam- 
 ily possession for generations; nearby, was a home- 
 made trough, or tub, a clothes-pounder and a rough 
 bench. Roaming about the place were a number of
 
 LINDY LOYD 45 
 
 scrawny chickens and a couple of fat, fine, "mash- 
 fed" hogs. These, with the before-mentioned bull, 
 a gaunt looking cow, a family of kittens and a dog 
 chained to an inverted barrel comprised the 
 domestic animals. 
 
 Just below the cabin a merry mountain stream 
 went racing on its way. Following along its banks 
 one might or might not come upon a certain 
 "crib-like" structure carefully hidden within the 
 "bresh." In any case, it was a matter to be strictly 
 ignored. 
 
 As has been stated the mountain girl marries 
 young and fades in like manner. Neelie Horn's 
 lot had been no exception to this general rule. Feeble, 
 emaciated, snuff-stick in mouth, she met Joan and 
 Lindy at the door. 
 
 After the customary greetings and inquiries had 
 been interchanged, Lindy coaxed the troop of hun- 
 gry-looking children outside and the two women were 
 left alone. 
 
 For a moment neither spoke Neelie sat gazing 
 hopelessly before her. "What's hit, Neelie?" Joan 
 began, presently. 
 
 "Oh nuthin Joan," was the despairing reply. 
 
 "But tell me, Neelie," Joan persisted, softly plac- 
 ing her hand upon Neelie's. 
 
 Yielding to the sympathy so sweetly proffered, 
 Neelie burst forth : "Look at me, Joan just look 
 at me! thin, bent, teeth all gone an old wumman,
 
 46 LINDY LOYD 
 
 just ready to drop into the grave an' me not yet 
 turned twenty-eight! Think of it!" 
 
 Joan pressed her hand, sympathetically. 
 
 "An who's a-goin to keer for the children whenst 
 I'm gone, Joan?" she demanded. "That's what's 
 a-worryin me!" 
 
 A paroxysm of coughing intervened. 
 
 "An hit's most time for the next one, Joan," Neelie 
 went on, presently, "an there ain't 'nough for them 
 as is yere now never has been 'nough never!" 
 she cried. "That's why my babby died, last winter, 
 Joan, just kez there wan't 'nough for 'im to eat, nor 
 'nough to keep 'im warm. Dear God ! what I've 
 been through with, up yere. Nobody knows no- 
 body!" and the poor soul rocked in wild-eyed misery. 
 
 "Go on, Neelie tell me all of 't," urged Joan. 
 
 "Hit's ter'ble lonesome up yere, Joan you don't 
 know. Kem times whenst I felt I couldn't stand 't 
 another minute. An an that ain't all, Joan," her 
 voice a whisper, "there's hants hants ! an I've 
 been so a-feard Dear God ! how a-feard I've been ! 
 Mebbe if I war well oh I don't know. Reckon 
 I'm clear plum' tired out, Joan." And Neelie sobbed, 
 helplessly. 
 
 But long ere this the arms of the elder woman 
 were about her and they sobbed it out together. 
 
 "Joan, I must have been clean plum' crazy to 
 take on so," cried Neelie, as they said good-by later 
 in the afternoon. "Reckon it war the sight of an-
 
 LINDY LOYD 47 
 
 other wumman as set me a-goin; anyways, I am 
 moughty glad yo-alls kem by." 
 
 "Hit's a dog's life, Lindy hit's a dog's life," 
 declared Joan as they hurried down the mountain. 
 "An Neelie Horn! well she war just the purtiest 
 girl anywhere 'round the hull neighborhood about 
 thirteen years a-gone: red cheeks, curls a-flyin' an 
 the purtiest, whitest teeth ; and she wuz always 
 a-laughin'; an' dance! well, the boys war just 
 crazy over her. Then along kem Sam Horn. 
 That's all there wuz to 't. Sam, he carried her off to 
 the top of the mountain an nobody ain't seen her 
 since hardly. She went right into 't babbies, 
 f armwork an all. Took the babbies out into the field 
 with 'er an set 'em down to play whiles she worked ; 
 so she told me. 
 
 "An the dreadful lonesomeness up there, Lindy 
 way off from everybody," Joan began again. "Kem 
 trouble an they've buried two or three children 
 ain't nobody to help nobody! just got to fight 't 
 out alone. An then the long nights, Lindy, an' 
 an the hants," concluded Joan, her voice a small 
 whisper. 
 
 "Yes it is lonesome," Lindy agreed ; and they 
 unconsciously quickened their steps. 
 
 "Wisht we-uns had a-started down earlier," mut- 
 tered Joan, glancing apprehensively around, "Hit's 
 a-gettin* too late for - " 
 , "Hist!" breathed Lindy, suddenly.
 
 48 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "What where " choked Joan. 
 
 "There!" and Lindy indicated a gloomy looking 
 cavern directly in their path. Was it fancy? was 
 there a movement a sound, within its murky 
 depths ? 
 
 The two women never knew. With pulses hammer- 
 ing in their ears, eyes wide with fright, they hurried 
 lightly by and presently, taking to their heels, were 
 well down the mountain and within sight of human 
 habitation before either ventured a word a back- 
 ward look. 
 
 "Land-sakes !" panted Joan, as they finally paused, 
 "betweenst the hants an an what you-uns 
 reckon that wuz, Lindy, back there?" she demanded. 
 "Sounded just like " 
 
 "Did you hear it, too, Aunt Joan?" 
 
 "Heerd sumpin that sounded just like a young 
 painter that's what !" replied Joan, "an there 
 mought as well be a hull family there, as not, Lindy," 
 she added ; and silence fell. 
 
 "Daddy won't like it that we came down so late," 
 declared Lindy, as they hastened on. 
 
 "No, he won't like hit," reiterated Joan tersely ; 
 and in this surmise they were entirely correct. 
 
 "Hit ain't fit for you-alls to be out on the moun- 
 tain this a-ways," Mitry chided, receiving their tale. 
 "Joan," angrily, "you-uns must have been clear 
 plum' crazy to start down so late." 
 
 "Yes Mitry, I bodaciously war," meekly.
 
 LINDY LOYD 49 
 
 "But Daddy we're here all right," began Lindy, 
 "and " 
 
 "But you moughtn't have been," interrupted 
 Mitry. "In course that war a painter 'bliged to 
 be," he went on. Somebody shot one of them var- 
 mints here just the other day but 't war 
 the male. An Hass, he war a-tellin that Hite Cronce 
 had found a young one and carried it hum that 
 war yesterday. There's bound to be a hull nest of 
 'em up there on the mountain. Kite's a plum* 
 fool a-huntin up trouble that a-ways," he added.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THAT lantern-show up to the schoolhouse kerns 
 off to-night, Mitry," reminded Joan. This 
 was directly after breakfast. 
 
 "Yes, Daddy it does," called Lindy, following 
 him out upon the porch. 
 
 Mitry lighted his pipe in silence. "Be you-alls 
 a-callatin' to go?" he inquired, presently. 
 
 "Of course we're goin, Daddy and you're goin, 
 too," she added, saucily. 
 
 Mitry's eyes twinkled. "Well " he pondered, 
 "they's expectin me up at the 'lorrels' to night " 
 another and a larger "still," worked in partnership 
 with three other men "but if you-alls air a-goin 
 to the schoolhouse, reckon I'm just nacherly 'bliged 
 to go long." And gathering up his mash-pails Mitry 
 took the accustomed trail up the bed of the brook. 
 
 The entertainment given that evening at the 
 schoolhouse was calculated to appeal especially to 
 the mountaineer and the place was well filled. Al- 
 though the facilities for the success of the enterprise 
 were distinctly primitive, the undertaking was well 
 managed, the pictures cleverly chosen and elucidated, 
 
 50
 
 LINDY LOYD 51 
 
 and the person in charge evidently familiar with 
 the characteristics of a mountain gathering re- 
 mained perfectly undisturbed by the appreciation 
 of his audience, as expressed by their frequent frank 
 and audible comments. 
 
 Among the scenes shown was a striking repre- 
 sentation of the rescue of a young girl from a burn- 
 ing building. To Hass Hicks, dominated by his 
 passion for Lindy, filled with jealousy and misgiv- 
 ings, the picture of the handsome, stalwart man, 
 within whose arms the girl lay, could but suggest 
 another scene that of Hugh Humphrey's recent 
 succor of Lindy. 
 
 To this untoward occurrence, Hass attributed 
 Lindy's present attitude and his own disquiet. 
 Leaning nonchalantly against the side of the build- 
 ing, hands jammed fiercely into the depths of his 
 pockets, hat pulled low over his glowering eyes, his 
 pipe grinding between his teeth, Hass watched the 
 unconscious girl. 
 
 With heightened color and quick, indrawn breath, 
 Lindy leaned forward and gazed upon the picture, 
 absorbed; her radiant eyes and parted lips only 
 too suggestive of visions of her own. And Hass 
 cursed, silently. 
 
 Returning down the trail the Loyds were joined 
 by Mrs. Hicks and Hass the latter placing him- 
 self immediately at Lindy's side. 
 
 "I see the Cove folkses they kem up to the
 
 52 LINDY LOYD 
 
 show," began Mrs. Hicks; "an Miz Rogan an Si 
 Etter, they-alls war there." 
 
 "An Hen Crum's folkses an the Pralls's they 
 kem down the trail," said Joan. 
 
 "Yep an the Tuttles's an the Allers's, too," 
 continued Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "Yep they's all there. Tain't often we-alls 
 gets a chanct at pictures, anyways," Joan replied. 
 
 "There'll be a right smart passel to go back up 
 the mountain " 
 
 "An none too big a crowd if there's to be any 
 painters around," interrupted Joan. 
 
 "Hass, have Hite shot that kitten he brung down 
 from the mountain yet?" Mitry inquired. 
 
 "Nope," was the reply. "Hite he war a-sayin' 
 that the children, they's got so fond of the leetle 
 critter that he just nacherly hates to shoot 't." 
 
 "Well Hite Cronce, he must be 'bout ready 
 for the fool-house !" exploded Mitry. "First thing 
 we-alls knows there'll be heaps of trouble. Them 
 painters, they be great for trackin, you-uns knows 
 that, Hass?" 
 
 "Yep that's so," Hass agreed. 
 
 "Good-land-er-Goshen ! we-alls don't want no 
 painters a-roamin 'round the neighborhood," cried 
 Joan. 
 
 "A painter's a moughty ugly critter to deal with," 
 added Mrs. Hicks, her eyes searching the darkness. 
 
 "Hen Crum, he war a-tellin to-night that the
 
 LINDY LOYD 53 
 
 boys had been out on the mountain a-lookin for the 
 old one," Hass went on. "Queer ! 'bout that 
 painter ! Ain't heerd of a painter this long whiles." 
 
 "Ye hain't?" jeered Mitry. "Well somebody 
 shot one up there just 'bout a month a-gone; to 
 say nuthin 'bout that'n as was shot the other day; 
 an Trim Aller, he 'lowed to me that they's been 
 up there, off and on, always. Shucks !" angrily, 
 "the hull bunch had orter been cleared out long an 
 long ago ; I, for one, ain't a-pinin to get shet of 
 none of my cattle-critters." 
 
 Since Hass's recent and ardent ebullition, the 
 intercourse between himself and Lindy had of neces- 
 sity been somewhat strained. In the case of Lindy, 
 the occurrence had resulted in such a complete clar- 
 ifying of her relations with Hass as to effectually 
 preclude any possibility of the renewal of his suit. 
 Hass, however, disregarding the utter lack of en- 
 couragement given, persisted in his attentions, trust- 
 ing that time would reinstate him in her favor. 
 
 Tonight, however, resentful of Lindy's indiffer- 
 ence, his fears renewed by the incident connected 
 with the picture, Hass's smouldering jealousy again 
 burst into flame. 
 
 "I seen yuh to-night, Lindy whenst yuh war 
 a-lookin at that fire-picture," he cried, miserably, 
 lingering outside the gate. 
 
 Lindy's head went up and a flash of color suffused 
 her face.
 
 54 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "You-uns didn't know it," Hass went on, bitterly, 
 "but I wuz a-watchin yuh / wuz a-watchin yuh 
 all the time." 
 
 Lindy remained disdainfully silent. 
 
 "Damn ! damn that fire-picture !" he exploded, 
 angered at the girl's attitude. 
 
 Lindy's eyes blazed. 
 
 "Mebbe you-uns think I don't know just what 
 war in yer mind, Lindy," he ground out, thrusting 
 his face into hers, "but I knowed I knowed what 't 
 war yuh wuz a-wishin ; an the purty color a-comin 
 an a-goin all the time. God !" desperately. 
 Then, swept onward by the force of his passion, 
 reckless as to result, he blazed: "Yuh war a-wishin 
 hit wuz yuh an that dad-blasted city feller 
 again ; now wan't yuh? eh tell me !" 
 
 But Lindy was safe in the shelter of the house.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 IT was the occasion of Lindy's weekly reading 
 with Miss Lucie Simmons ; and having fin- 
 ished and discussed the usual assignment, the 
 two friends were enjoying the relaxation of a bit of 
 gossip; Lindy, meanwhile, availing herself of an 
 opportunity for an instruction in needle-work. 
 
 "Did you say that Hugh Humphrey was a native 
 of Dark Hollow, Lindy?" Miss Lucie began. 
 
 "Yes, he was born here." 
 
 "He he is rather unusual for an attendant," 
 Miss Lucie went on, "gentle, refined in manner in 
 fact, Lindy, he is so much of a gentleman that I find 
 great difficulty in ordering him about. I find myself 
 frequently addressing him as Dr. Humphrey while 
 as for being carried, or lifted well " 
 
 "Yes tell me," breathed Lindy. 
 
 "Well then I have never been lifted so care- 
 fully so so well, so nicely ; never! He 
 certainly does know how," she added, her eyes retro- 
 spective. 
 
 "Oh, yes yes indeed! he does know how," echoed 
 Lindy, fervently. 
 
 "Lindy ! why what is it? what do you 
 
 55
 
 56 LINDY LOYD 
 
 know about it?" demanded Miss Lucie, her startled 
 gaze upon the girl who sat with parted lips, ab- 
 sorbed, her guileless face alight with comprehension. 
 And for a moment the two regarded each other in 
 speaking silence. 
 
 "I am afraid I have kept you too long, Lindy 
 you must be home before dark," said Miss Lucie, 
 later, her eyes upon the setting sun. 
 
 "Yes, Daddy won't let me be out on the mountain 
 after dark," responded the girl, gaily, as she gath- 
 ered up her books and prepared to depart, "but 
 there is time and I am not in the least afraid." 
 
 Nevertheless, the shadows had lengthened consid- 
 erably and the quiet of night was settling down 
 when Lindy reached the old lumber-camp. She had 
 planned to enter the cave on her way up the trail, in 
 order to secure 'Lucille' which had been again for- 
 gotten; and although the cave would be wrapped 
 in gloom at that hour, she trusted to her sense of 
 touch in finding it. In any case, the experiment 
 would take but a second and dropping her package 
 of books by the entrance, Lindy hurried through the 
 fissure and was soon inside. 
 
 Lindy had not been within the cave since the occa- 
 sion of the thunder-storm and her thoughts imme- 
 diately reverted to that incident. "It should be right 
 here," she murmured, passing her fingers lightly 
 over the rocky floor. Failing to find the book, Lindy 
 dropped upon her knees and searched carefully.
 
 LINDY LOYD 57 
 
 At this moment the girl became conscious of a 
 peculiar, an indescribable odor of which she had 
 been vaguely aware upon first entering the cave. At 
 the same instant was that a breath a move- 
 ment, yonder? and a tiny, furry thing with a 
 bit of rope tied to its neck rolled over towards 
 her. 
 
 Faint, sick with apprehension, Lindy rose and con- 
 centrated her gaze upon the far corner of the cave 
 to meet the steady, unwinking glare of two balls of 
 fire; and knew that she was menaced by the 
 panther "That old one " who, according to 
 her father's prediction, had evidently tracked and 
 recovered her kitten and was now, presumably, on 
 her way back to some hidden fastness of the moun- 
 tain. 
 
 For one awful moment Lindy was overwhelmed 
 by the horror of the situation. "Dear God!" she 
 panted, everything reeling about her, "is there no 
 help ? Must I die here alone with this loath- 
 some beast?" Then all the splendid courage, the 
 strong, self-reliant spirit of the girl arose to meet 
 this terrible emergency to do battle with this 
 hideous foe so greedily, nay, so confidently awaiting 
 her surrender. 
 
 But how could she, a frail, young girl, singly and 
 alone, protect herself from the angry beast ren- 
 dered yet more infuriated by the presence of her 
 young?
 
 58 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Had she her revolver with her her one slender 
 chance for life? Lindy had no recollection of it, 
 although Daddy had urged her never to be without 
 it; and in the meantime the horrible beast was 
 worming itself slowly but certainly towards her. 
 
 Not daring for her life to move fearing to 
 precipitate the fatal leap Lindy's hand stole 
 slowly to her bosom. Ah, yes ! thank God ! the 
 tiny weapon was there and the girl's fingers closed 
 quietly and steadily about it. Yes oh, yes ! there 
 was a chance for her life if she could deliver an ac- 
 curate, death-dealing blow; and never removing her 
 eyes from the malignant, creeping thing now almost 
 upon her, Lindy braced herself for the encounter. 
 
 It was almost time, now. Lindy could see the red, 
 gaping jaws, could smell the fetid breath. "Now! 
 oh now! Dear God guide my aim " she 
 cried; and as the panther gathered itself for the 
 deadly leap, the report of the revolver rang out. 
 With a scream of rage the panther flung itself upon 
 the brave girl and the two went down together. 
 
 "Lindy my God! Lindy where are you?" 
 shouted Hugh Humphrey, frantically; and he 
 stumbled blindly into the cave. But there came no 
 response to his call. 
 
 Hugh had followed immediately up the trail 
 hoping to overtake the girl. As he reached the old 
 camp the report of the revolver, succeeded by the 
 angry screech of the panther, fell upon his ear.
 
 LINDY LOYD 59 
 
 "Lindy Lindy ! Great God !" he gasped. 
 Pursuing the direction indicated by those sounds of 
 terror, Hugh came upon the package of books and 
 plunged immediately into the fissure, weapon in 
 hand. 
 
 For a second he stood dumbly within the darkness 
 of the cave, overwhelmed by the sense of an awful 
 deed enacted by the terrifying odor of spilt 
 blood. Soon, however, a shadowy heap outlined it- 
 self within the gloom; and he sprang forward. 
 
 Lindy was lying as she had fallen, with the great 
 beast partly over her. Hurling the panther aside, 
 Hugh tenderly lifted the girl and carried her out- 
 side, where, ascertaining that life remained, he de- 
 voted all his efforts to her resuscitation. 
 
 "Oh my little girl my little sweetheart !" he 
 cried, passionately, overcome by the horror of the 
 situation by the supreme realization of his love. 
 
 After a time the heavy lids lifted and Lindy's eyes 
 looked dully forth. Then came awakening percep- 
 tion and with a shiver of terror the girl relapsed into 
 unconsciousness. Presently, however, reason re- 
 sumed its control and Lindy slowly opened her eyes 
 to meet Hugh's compassionate gaze. 
 
 "Hugh?" she began, wonderingly, then clutch- 
 ing him frantically, horror in her eyes she gasped : 
 "Oh where where is it where is the pan- 
 ther " 
 
 Hugh's arms closed quietly and firmly about her.
 
 60 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "The panther is dead Lindy quite dead," he 
 soothed. 
 
 Dry sobs shook the girl. "Oh oh and I was 
 all alone " she pleaded ; and shuddering, Lindy 
 hid her face within Hugh's breast. 
 
 Hugh's face was ashen. "I know Lindy ! 
 God God if I had lost you " he murmured 
 as he folded her yet closer. 
 
 And indeed Lindy's preservation was little short 
 of miraculous. Aside from the frightful experience 
 and an ugly tear down her arm, where the cruel 
 claws had ploughed their way, she had escaped, 
 wonderfully. 
 
 Overcome by the fact that her life must hang upon 
 the success of that single shot, Lindy had yielded to 
 merciful unconsciousness immediately upon its ac- 
 complishment and in falling, swerved from the 
 panther's direct attack.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 NOT many days after the terrible occurrence 
 in the cave, Lindy and Hugh, again at the 
 old camp, declared themselves lovers for all 
 time. Seated beneath the shade of the old pine they 
 discussed many things : the sale of Hugh's old home 
 and his arrangements for his mother's comfort; his 
 plans for the continuation of his medical course 
 including his dream of study abroad ; also, the dearer, 
 more personal matter of their love their future 
 as husband and wife. As marriage, in Hugh's pres- 
 ent circumstances, must of necessity be a matter for 
 the future, they agreed to keep the anniversary of 
 this happy occasion by a solemn compact to seek 
 the old camp, either singly or together as circum- 
 stances would allow, and within this same hour to 
 there recall their vows; the signal agreed upon to 
 be the thrice repeated call of the whippoorwill. 
 
 "You you will go back North in the early fall, 
 Hugh?" the girl queried, sadly. 
 
 "Yes I must. There is no other way, Lindy." 
 "No, Hugh, there is no other way," Lindy reit- 
 erated ; and the two sat silent, mentally facing those 
 days of separation. 
 
 61
 
 62 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Presently Lindy began, haltingly, her eyes wist- 
 ful : "I I have always missed my mother so 
 Hugh ; have so longed for her. I wonder I 
 wonder will your mother will she like me 
 Hugh?" 
 
 "Like you Lindy?" and Hugh crushed the girl 
 to him, "my mother cannot help it!" he declared. 
 And Lindy was satisfied. 
 
 "And it's only one week ago, Hugh," pondered 
 Lindy, "since you first I mean since I I 
 mean " and she faltered in adorable confusion. 
 
 Hugh winced. "Ah, little girl," he cried, his voice 
 tense, "when I remember how near I came to losing 
 you " 
 
 "But Hugh don't remember it," Lindy inter- 
 rupted, gaily. "It can't happen again it cannot! 
 Daddy has had the cave burned out and closed." 
 
 "But there are other caves on the mountain," 
 Hugh persisted, gloomily. 
 
 "Yes there are others ; and I have been in 
 and out of them scores of times. Come to think, 
 Hugh," she continued, demurely, her eyes provok- 
 ingly downcast, "I am obliged to explore one of 
 those caves well um tomorrow, I think it is." 
 
 "Lindy," authoritatively "I want you to 
 keep out of the caves! Hear?" but Lindy's an- 
 swer, though wordless, was bewitchingly perverse. 
 
 "Lindy," and Hugh seized the girl's hands, his
 
 LINDY LOYD 63 
 
 face close to hers, "promise me that you will enter 
 none of the caves ! promise me right now!" 
 
 And Lindy, lifting sweet, trustful eyes, answered: 
 "I promise Hugh." And Hugh was content.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 KEM, Peter" coaxed Joan, taking down her 
 sun-bonnet, "I'm a-goin up to the widder's." 
 But Peter needed no urging. He was like 
 a dog in his delight in following. In fact, it was 
 frequently necessary when his company was not 
 desired either to steal away, quietly, or to fasten 
 him in the house. This time, however, Peter was 
 regularly invited to go along, and with his tail 
 proudly erect he trotted decorously near his mis- 
 tress ; when not called suddenly far afield upon 
 excursions of his own. 
 
 Peter was a mighty hunter. Nothing within 
 reach appeared able to escape his cruel claws. He 
 hunted for the love of it not to appease his hun- 
 ger and, as if vain of his prowess, generally carried 
 his spoils to Joan frequently to her great distress. 
 In fact, his indulgence in this feline characteristic 
 was a matter of much concern to his tender-hearted 
 mistress. 
 
 "Now, what have yuh got?" she demanded, as 
 Peter came racing back from one of his wild scur- 
 ries with a little shrieking bundle of fur held in his 
 mouth. "I 'clar fo 't, Peter I have a great mind 
 
 64
 
 LINDY LOYD 65 
 
 to beat yer bonnit ! good'n hard, too !" she chided, 
 receiving his offering. 
 
 It proved to be a baby-rabbit, soft and brown and 
 perfectly formed, although so tiny : with wide- 
 open, fear-stricken eyes and slender, silky ears lying 
 close to its head. Fortunately it was very little hurt, 
 if at all; and Peter having gone on another quest, 
 Joan hid the beautiful little creature within the 
 shelter of the bushes. 
 
 "Now just exactly what do yuh s'pose that is, 
 Peter, a-settin up there on Brackie's fence?" Joan 
 exclaimed, halting suddenly. 
 
 Peter immediately lay down in the road to wait. 
 
 "Looks sumpin like Brackie," Joan went on, her 
 eyes glued upon the object, "but reckon it's nuthin 
 but a skeer-crow. "Kem on, Peter kem !" she 
 called. But Peter sat stolidly in the middle of the 
 road and refused to move. 
 
 "Never can get Peter into the widder's," muttered 
 Joan; "spose he thinks he's got good reason for 
 a-keepin out; pan of dish-water, just like as not. 
 Why what For-the-land's-sake ! that is Brackie, 
 up there on the fence!" and struck by a nameless 
 something in Mrs. Hicks' attitude, Joan hurried on. 
 
 "What's the matter, Brackie?" she called, "why 
 don't yuh get down? thought, first, hit war a 
 skeer-crow. Why why where's yer feet?" By 
 this time Joan was standing before Mrs. Hicks, who, 
 white and exhausted, her eyes glued upon the ground,
 
 66 LINDY LOYD 
 
 was balanced precariously upon the fence with her 
 feet upon the rail directly beneath ; her position 
 strongly suggestive of a nearly closed jack-knife. 
 
 "What's down there, Brackie? what are yuh 
 a-lookin at, anyways?" Joan went on. As Mrs. 
 Hicks made no reply whatsoever, Joan burst forth: 
 "Brack Hicks, you-uns get right down off that fence 
 right aways ! before yuh fall off !" 
 
 "I can't," replied Mrs. Hicks, laconically, her 
 eyes still upon the ground. 
 
 "What's the reason yuh can't?" Joan demanded. 
 
 "Just kez ther's a great big moccasin a-layin 
 right down there, clost up against the fence. Joan 
 oh, Joan !" she shrieked, suddenly, "he's a-turnin 
 his head plum' towards you-uns ! he's gettin ready 
 to kern " 
 
 "Good-land !" exploded Joan ; and at the imminent 
 risk of dislodging Brackie, she, too, climbed nimbly 
 upon the rail. "Where is it?" she shrilled. 
 
 "Right there 'long the fence ! an has been, 
 this long whiles." 
 
 "Sakes-alive ! but he is a big, ugly feller, Brackie. 
 I never see such a big one never!" 
 
 "Yep he's a big one," and the two women gazed 
 warily down. 
 
 "Brackie," Joan burst forth, presently, "do yuh 
 reckon we-uns have got to set yere till that reptile 
 gets ready to move on?" 
 
 "Looks that a-ways," was the grim reply, Mrs.
 
 LINDY LOYD 67 
 
 Hicks rather pleased than otherwise at the rare ex- 
 perience of getting the best of Joan. "Tain't noways 
 comfo'table settin, nuther," she added, endeavoring 
 to ease her cramped body with the result that both 
 women were nearly precipitated from the fence. 
 
 A series of silent, frantic struggles for equilibrium 
 followed. 
 
 "Brack Hicks " panted Joan, wrathfully, 
 when, white and trembling the two had succeeded in 
 righting themselves, "are you-uns a-callatin to land 
 both of us plum' on the top of that varmint?" 
 
 But the long-suffering Mrs. Hicks made no reply. 
 Clinging breathlessly to her yet vibrating support 
 she glared speechlessly at her companion. Evi- 
 dently, for her, the situation had reached a point 
 beyond discussion. 
 
 "An sposin somebody kerns by!" Joan went on, 
 presently, scanning the trail, "why we-alls'd never 
 hear the last of 't, Brackie never in this world! 
 two women a-roostin on a rail!" she cried, scorn- 
 fully. 
 
 "Ain't a-worryin 'bout the roostin none," snapped 
 the much distressed Brackie, "hit's the rail as is 
 a-worryin me," and she moved, painfully. "Reckon 
 I be most cut in two," she added. 
 
 "Good-land-a-livin ! Brack," shrilled Joan, her 
 neck craned up the trail, "somebody is a-kemin ! 
 right now, too ! an an " her excitement 
 growing, "he looks exactly like a preacher !"
 
 68 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Mrs. Hicks stared dully at Joan. 
 
 "Now, Brack I'd like yuh to tell me what's to 
 be done?" and Joan turned in exasperation to her 
 companion. 
 
 But Mrs. Hicks remained silent. 
 
 Joan became desperate. Deaf to Brackie's plead- 
 ings and to her own safety she leaned far over and 
 rattled her heels vigorously against the rails, calling 
 "Shoo! shoo! shoo!" But the moccasin, his beady 
 eyes shining wickedly, remained perfectly indifferent 
 to her efforts. 
 
 "Well " and Joan glanced wildly around, "sum- 
 pins just nacherly got to be done. That man'll be 
 round the bend an a-headin this way inside of two 
 minutes ; an I, for one, ain't a-pinin to have him 
 find we-alls a-teeterin up yere on this fence. Why 
 of course ! we-alls are plum' fools, Brack," she 
 exclaimed, suddenly; and to the certain peril of 
 Brackie and herself, Joan reached down and began 
 to untie her shoes. 
 
 "Oh be keerful be keerful!" begged Mrs. 
 Hicks. "Joan Loyd yuh keep on with yer antics 
 an yuh'll have us both plum' onto that reptile 
 sure 'nough!" she went on, angrily. "What fool 
 thing be ye a-callatin to do anyways ?" 
 
 But Joan had gone beyond all kindly considera- 
 tion or fear. Jerking off her shoes she rapped: 
 "I'm a-goin to fire these yere plum' at the dad-burned 
 varmint "
 
 LINDY LOYD 69 
 
 "Joan!" severely. 
 
 "Hit's a good time to swear a leetle 
 Brackie," cried Joan, grimly punctuating her words 
 with her foot-gear as, one after the other, they 
 were aimed forcibly and effectively at the offender 
 beneath the fence. And the moccasin immediately 
 trailed his loathsome length across the road and was 
 lost to sight. 
 
 "Had orter done that long and long ago," Joan 
 declared as she dropped upon the ground and hur- 
 ried into her shoes. "Why don't yuh get down, 
 Brackie?" she called, presently. 
 
 "I can't ! my laigs, they's that stiff I can't 
 move 'em ! Oh oh " and Mrs. Hicks groaned, 
 miserably. 
 
 "Shucks ! Brackie, yer laigs, they'll limber up all 
 right once yuh get on 'em," cheered Joan. "Bet- 
 ter hurry up that man'll " she urged. 
 
 "Don't see 'im yet do yuh?" 
 
 "Nope not yet." 
 
 With many a plaint and contortion Mrs. Hicks 
 vacated the rail. As she slid painfully to the ground 
 her skirt caught upon an upstanding knot. "Tain't 
 'nough to have to set up yere 'till I be turned plum' 
 into an immage but I must be hung-up, too !" she 
 burst forth, yanking at the offending skirt. But the 
 stout homespun refused to yield. 
 
 Joan, busy with her shoes, heard the sounds of 
 stress and conflict behind her. "Don't worry, 
 Brackie that man, he won't "
 
 70 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "That man ! that man!" blazed Mrs. Hicks, 
 completely carried away by her annoying mishap, 
 "if 't hadn't been for 'im a-hurrying of me so 
 Oh drat 't ! drat 't I say !" struggling 
 vainly to free herself, "Joan Joan just look 
 at me !" 
 
 Joan turned, quickly. But the sudden and effec- 
 tive picture of the unfortunate Mrs. Hicks was too 
 much for Joan and she gave way to her mirth. 
 "Good-land-a-Goshen ! Brack but you do look 
 funny," she cried. 
 
 "Tain't funny, none, to me !" Mrs. Hicks shrilled. 
 "Joan Loyd be I to dangle yere " 
 
 But Joan, smothering her glee, had already gone 
 to her rescue. "Oh yuh poor poor Brackie," 
 she soothed. But Joan's efforts, too, proved un- 
 availing and Brackie remained fastened to the knot. 
 
 "An there ain't nuthin to laugh at nuther," 
 she insisted, her eyes fastened watchfully upon 
 Joan. 
 
 "Of course there ain't, Brackie nuthin' 't all," 
 choked Joan. 
 
 Finally, by dint of climbing back upon the fence, 
 Joan succeeded in releasing Mrs. Hicks from her 
 ludicrous situation. But alas and alas ! in union 
 with the release came the sudden, downward drag 
 with the result that Joan toppled forward upon the 
 doomed Mrs. Hicks and the two reached the 
 ground together.
 
 LINDY LOYD 71 
 
 It was the last straw. 
 
 Slowly the devoted Mrs. Hicks rose to her feet 
 and the two stood for a moment facing each other. 
 But there were no words to fit the occasion 
 neither breath, had there been words stony, grim, 
 Mrs. Hicks took the path to her cabin. 
 
 "Poor poor Brackie she is plum' tired out !" 
 Joan burst forth, compassionately, her eyes follow- 
 ing her friend. "But 't war sure funny hit war 
 that!" she chuckled, turning homewards. 
 
 Suddenly Joan stopped and her eyes raked the 
 trail. "I cl'ar for 't ! I plum' forgot that preach- 
 er-man. Must have gone over to Sim Rogan's," 
 she muttered.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 HASS, he war a-tellin that there's to be 
 preachin up at the church-house kern 
 Sunday," announced Mitry that night at 
 supper. 
 
 "There be?" exclaimed Joan. 
 
 "Hit seems they want to raise a leetle money to 
 help some folkes over on the mountain as have 
 been burnt out church-house an all. The 
 Preacher, he air a-stoppin over at Sim Rogans's," 
 he concluded. 
 
 "At Sim's ? Good-land !" exclaimed Joan, "then 
 that's where that man went this um aw " 
 and she paused, discreetly. 
 
 "Well Joan go on with it " advised 
 Mitry. 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Joan what man?" urged Lindy. 
 
 "Oh I don't know 'zactly " evaded Joan. 
 
 "Huh !" grunted Mitry, his questioning eyes upon 
 her. 
 
 But Joan maintained a judicious silence. "Don't 
 see as I'm 'bliged to tell everything I know," she 
 muttered to herself, later. "Poor Brackie," she 
 added, chuckling. 
 
 7*
 
 LINDY LOYD 73 
 
 "Daddy, where are you?" called Lindy. 
 
 "Yere out yere on the porch," and Lindy 
 dropped down beside him. 
 
 For awhile the two sat silent. "Daddy," Lindy 
 began, presently, burying her face upon his knee, "I 
 
 Hugh Daddy dear I have something to tell 
 you." 
 
 Mitry's form stiffened and his arm tightened about 
 the girl, but he made no reply. 
 
 Lindy went on : "Did did Hugh speak to you 
 
 Daddy? He said he would see you tell you 
 about " 
 
 Still Mitry sat quiet, his soul in hot rebellion. 
 Was she not his? "Bone of his bone, flesh of his 
 flesh" the very heart and core of his life? and 
 now now 
 
 "Cita Cita my leetle gal look at me !" he 
 burst forth, suddenly ; and the lovely, blushing face 
 was lifted to his searching gaze. 
 
 For an instant, soul gazed into soul. "Yes 
 Daddy it was to-day," whispered the girl, answer- 
 ing his unspoken query. "I I am very happy, 
 Daddy," she added with sweet confiding. But Mitry 
 only held her closer. 
 
 Presently Lindy reentered the house; but Mitry 
 sat on, gazing out into the darkness. "Land-sakes ! 
 you-uns out yere, yit, Mitry?" cried Joan, coming 
 outside. "Um-m-m but it does smell good," sniff- 
 ing the dew-laden air, "an just listen to them katy-
 
 74 LINDY LOYD 
 
 dids a-hollerin will yuh?" And yielding to the 
 sweet insistence of the night, Joan, too, dropped 
 down upon the step. 
 
 "Joan," Mitry began, "that young 'Umphreys, he 
 war a-talkin' to me down at the store, last night." 
 
 "Yep " 
 
 "An he 'lowed that" Mitry puffed industriously 
 at his pipe "that he thinks a heap of Lindy." 
 
 Joan remained silent. 
 
 "I told 'im that I did, too," Mitry concluded, bit- 
 terly. 
 
 "Well Mitry hit mought be worse," Joan 
 cheered, presently. "A-sposin, now hit war that 
 Hass " 
 
 "Damn Hass !" 
 
 "An we-uns don't want Lindy on the 'cull list', 
 nuther, Mitry," Joan concluded. 
 
 Mitry made no response, but smoked on, tempest- 
 uously. 
 
 "Ah well " he replied, finally, with a long- 
 drawn respiration, "I reckon hit be natur but 
 't's hard; hit sure is moughty hard, Joan" Knock- 
 ing the ashes from his pipe, Mitry sought his bed. 
 
 The frequency, secrecy, rapidity of growth and 
 awful sweep of a mountain fire, make it an ever- 
 present dread to the mountaineer. In his isolated 
 cabin upon the mountain in the dead of night, he 
 wakens to the menace of the fire-fiend and his soul 
 shrinks within him. Vain would be his effort to cope
 
 LINDY LOYD 75 
 
 with such a monster. He counts himself happy in- 
 deed if allowed to escape with the single boon of life. 
 
 This being so, a cry of distress from a burned-out 
 community appeals in a peculiar manner to the 
 mountaineer and he will give of his meager substance 
 most willingly. Accordingly, the invitation to at- 
 tend the "preachin" the coming Sunday the object 
 of which had been freely circulated met with ready 
 acceptance; and the preacher, presenting his cause 
 simply and effectively, won a cordial response from 
 his hearers. 
 
 At the close of the meeting, Hass Hicks stepped 
 promptly to Lindy's side. "Ain't seen you-uns for 
 a right smart whiles," he said. 
 
 "Oh howdy, Hass," gaily responded the girl ; 
 and they followed the company going down the trail. 
 
 Lindy received Hass's advances kindly. Why not? 
 she reasoned. Secure in her own great happiness 
 she could afford to be patient with his infatuation; 
 and certainly it was the better part of discretion 
 to endeavor to pacify him, to avoid irritating him. 
 Hass was known to be a man of strong passions, 
 reckless, quick to act, irrespective of consequences; 
 and besides, had she not another, now, to consider in 
 this connection? In time, Hass would surely real- 
 ize the absolute futility of his sentiment for herself. 
 But Lindy underrated the depth of the man's pur- 
 pose, the strength of his persistence, his pitiless, 
 dogged determination.
 
 76 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Of late, a gradual change, an awakening, had 
 come over Lindy. Responding to the sunshine of 
 love, her sweet girl nature had unfolded, expanded; 
 and an added gentleness, a certain womanliness, but 
 intensified her charm, her exceeding desirableness to 
 the luckless wight at her side. 
 
 "Lindy", said Hass, and he scrutinized her face, 
 "you-uns are different, someways so so happy 
 like. What's hit?" he demanded, suspiciously. 
 
 "Nonsense, Hass," parried the girl veiling her 
 eyes, while a flood of scarlet swept over her cheek. 
 
 But Hass was not satisfied. Stopping short, he 
 bent down and peered into her face. "Ah hit's 
 that low-down city-feller, again," he gritted. "Damn 
 'im damn 'im!" he blazed with angry gesticula- 
 tion, "a-snoopin an a-sneakin 'round the gal as is 
 a-spectin to be jined to me ! Just lemme ketch " 
 
 "Who said I was goin' to marry you, Hass Hicks?" 
 rang out the clear, young voice. "I didn't say it ! 
 and I tell you right now once and forever, Hass, 
 I will never marry you ! never never never!" 
 
 Hass's face went white his hands dropped nerve- 
 less. Silent, motionless as if stricken to stone, his 
 eyes two glowing coals, he stood before the girl so 
 fearlessly hurling forth her defiance. 
 
 Then "Lindy," he replied placing his hand 
 resolutely upon her shoulder, his jaw thrust forward, 
 while his eyes burned into hers, "yuh air a-goin to 
 be jined to me to me!" he reiterated, slowly and
 
 LINDY LOYD 77 
 
 emphatically, his grasp tightening upon the daunt- 
 less girl. "An there ain't no yuther man on God's 
 earth," he went on, his passion growing, "as can 
 have yuh, Lindy, but me ! just me! yuh hear, 
 Lindy, just me! / swear hit!" he cried with 
 trembling voice, with fist clenched, his face up- 
 raised to the sky as if to register his oath. "An just 
 lemme get my two hands on that dad-blasted fur- 
 riner," he went on, wildly, "I'll I'll " 
 
 But Lindy, refusing to hear further, broke from 
 his grasp and ran like a deer down the mountain.
 
 CHAPTEE XIV 
 
 MISS LUCIE SIMMONS had not always been 
 an invalid. Born in the South and guarded 
 by the faithful Mammy Lu, she had wan- 
 dered over 'de ole place' a healthy, happy baby, and 
 surrounded by the refinements and culture incident 
 to her station in life, had developed into a brilliant, 
 attractive girl. 
 
 Then occurred the calamity that darkened her 
 days ; a calamity that included a lamentable sac- 
 rifice of human lives her parents among the 
 number. 
 
 For a time, Miss Lucie's life, also, was despaired 
 of. In fact, in view of the very uncertain alterna- 
 tive of life, death appeared the more preferable, 
 so grievously was she injured. 
 
 Mammy Lu, however, refused to accept so painful 
 a conclusion. With the fidelity of the old-time ser- 
 vant she devoted herself to her "Lil Missy", assisting 
 with such pertinacity of purpose the professional 
 skill at command, that death, lingering long at the 
 threshold, was finally vanquished. 
 
 Slowly Miss Lucie emerged from the shadows. 
 Bravely she took up the burden laid upon her, en- 
 
 78
 
 LINDY LOYD 79 
 
 deavoring with sweet patience to accustom herself to 
 the changed and sad conditions of her life to the 
 deprivations entailed by her hurt body. 
 
 But hope dies hard ; and there came black days 
 days of physical suffering and despair ; when 
 her whole soul rose in rebellion against her bitter 
 limitations the loneliness and emptiness of her 
 life. In time, Miss Lucie acquired a measure of 
 health. But she would never again have freedom 
 of movement. 
 
 From the very circumstances of the case the re- 
 lations existing between Miss Lucie and those ren- 
 dering her personal service would, necessarily, be 
 of a more or less friendly nature. In respect to 
 Hugh Humphrey: Miss Lucie had immediately 
 recognized his superiority to the position he filled; 
 also, had early acquired confidence in him and in his 
 strong arm. Refined in manner, gentle and consid- 
 erate in his support of her helplessness, her efficient, 
 handsome attendant made their mountain drives to- 
 gether not only pleasurable, but matters of antici- 
 pation. 
 
 As time went on Miss Lucie's appreciation of 
 Hugh's companionship increased. And they had 
 much in common. Hugh was a student, with a stu- 
 dent's appreciation of the world of books. Miss 
 Lucie, too, had read widely, and numberless were 
 the discussions upon matters of interest to them 
 both.
 
 80 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Given two young people of opposite sex, congenial, 
 with opportunities for frequent interviews, with the 
 God-given appeal of the weaker to the stronger 
 especially emphasized and the situation may rea- 
 sonably be supposed to contain possibilities, at least. 
 
 As far as Hugh Humphrey was concerned his 
 respect, his admiration for Miss Lucie was sincere; 
 but she was to him as one peculiarly and forever 
 set apart by her terrible affliction ; and safeguarded 
 by his absorbing passion for his mountain-sweetheart, 
 Hugh pursued his untroubled way, fulfilling each 
 day's duties conscientiously if perfunctorily, at 
 times his thoughts, his hopes fixed upon the fu- 
 ture ; upon Lindy, always Lindy. 
 
 And what of Lindy? 
 
 The weekly interviews with Miss Lucie were eagerly 
 anticipated by the girl. Indeed, they were occasions 
 for mutual anticipation; Lindy bringing not only 
 a whiff of the breezy freshness, the invigoration of 
 the hills, but the charm of her youth and quick re- 
 ceptivity her sweet solicitude for Miss Lucie's 
 welfare. 
 
 Lindy had not spoken of her love for Hugh 
 Humphrey. Close as was the friendship between 
 Miss Lucie and herself, it did not warrant so inti- 
 mate an unveiling and the sweet secret had remained 
 untold. 
 
 The two friends were together again upon one of 
 these occasions Lindy's head bent over her sewing.
 
 LINDY LOYD 81 
 
 Of late, a subtle change, rather an unfolding, had 
 passed over the girl ; and Miss Lucie, lying quiet, 
 observant, noted the added charm, the sweet woman- 
 liness. 
 
 "Lindy," she burst forth, "have you ever consid- 
 ered the inestimable boon you have in your splendid 
 health, particularly in your straight, unmaimed 
 body? Ah, me!" and she moved, painfully. 
 
 "Oh what is it?" breathed Lindy; and coming 
 quickly to Miss Lucie she placed her strong, young 
 arms about her and relieved the tired position. 
 
 "Poor me ! Ah poor me !" Miss Lucie sobbed, 
 clinging to the girl. 
 
 Lindy laid her soft cheek to hers. "What is it? 
 what is it? tell me," she pleaded. "Is the pain so 
 bad today?" 
 
 "No no it is not the pain, especially. It 
 it is all of it, Lindy the whole thing ! I think I 
 must be rebellious, Lindy." 
 
 "But something is troubling you ah tell me?" 
 
 Unable to resist the soft pleading, Miss Lucie be- 
 gan, haltingly: "It is the emptiness the the lone- 
 liness of my life that unnerves me, Lindy. There is 
 always the pain the suffering," she added. "But 
 that, I could endure, I think; I have become accus- 
 tomed to that but the other the loneliness the 
 utter, awful loneliness ! How can I endure that? 
 and for always, Lindy? I am not old not as 
 years count; it is my suffering that has aged me,"
 
 82 LINDY LOYD 
 
 she went on, appealingly. "And oh, Lindy I am 
 human I have a boundless capacity for loving." 
 
 "Oh, yes !" breathed Lindy, her arms close about 
 her friend. 
 
 Impelled by a nameless comprehension in the eyes 
 uplifted to hers, Miss Lucie continued : "But that is 
 not for me, Lindy the love of husband and child 
 not for me," she reiterated, sadly. "I might buy it 
 
 maybe buy consideration, at least ; but that 
 would not be what I would want, Lindy." 
 
 "No oh, no ! you would not want that, alone," 
 Lindy echoed, softly and silence fell. 
 
 "Lindy " Miss Lucie went on, presently, a del- 
 icate flush covering her face, "shall I tell you? I 
 
 I believe I will " she hesitated "there is 
 some one that that I " 
 
 "Oh there is?" breathed the girl. 
 
 "But he does not know it I think he does not 
 Ah well a man would be a fool indeed to fasten 
 himself to such a burden," she concluded, brokenly. 
 
 "Indeed indeed I am sorry," grieved Lindy. 
 
 "Why why I have saddened you, Lindy I 
 did not mean to do that. I do not know what made 
 me go on so." 
 
 "But I want you to be happy," Lindy comforted. 
 
 It was later in the afternoon, and Lindy and Hugh 
 were ascending the trail to the old camp Hugh 
 having fallen into the habit of accompanying Lindy 
 from her interviews with Miss Lucie.
 
 LINDY LOYD 83 
 
 Hugh was carrying Lindy's books. "For Lindy 
 Maracita," he read from the fly-leaf. "Maracita !" 
 he exclaimed, "Miss Lucie has a penchant for pretty 
 names," 
 
 "But that is my name, Hugh. Maracita is Spanish 
 for Mary, which was my mother's name and my 
 grandmother's." 
 
 "There must be Spanish blood in your family, 
 then." 
 
 "Maybe. Daddy was born in Spain. But my 
 mother was English, the daughter of a clergyman. 
 I have a tiny prayer-book that belonged to her, with 
 her name, Mary, written in it. Aunt Joan says my 
 mother used the little prayer-book ; I love it," she 
 added, softly, her eyes pensive and they climbed 
 awhile in silence. 
 
 "Daddy always calls me Cita. Aunt Joan says 
 he called my mother Cita. I never knew my mother, 
 Hugh " she went on, tenderly, "and I I have 
 always wanted her so. I talk about her some- 
 times to Miss Lucie ; she understands " 
 
 "Yes, she would understand," Hugh replied. "Miss 
 Lucie Simmons is a wonderful woman. One is con- 
 tinually impressed with her strength of character ; 
 the courage with which she faces the hopelessness of 
 her life." 
 
 "I love her !" said Lindy, simply. "But oh 
 Hugh why should her life be so lonely and sad 
 for always I mean? She is young just a few
 
 84 LINDY LOYD 
 
 years older than I If she should marry some- 
 time maybe " 
 
 "Marry Miss Lucie Simmons marry ? oh, no ! 
 impossible !" interrupted Hugh. "To me, Miss Lucie 
 represents all that is finest and best in woman ; 
 fine in the highest sense ; but marry ! " 
 
 "Well and am I not fine, too, Hugh?" coaxed 
 Lindy, demurely. She was leaning against the old 
 pine, her hands folded behind her; so bewitching a 
 bit of femininity, so irresistible altogether, that Hugh 
 immediately succumbed. 
 
 "You you?" he cried, crushing her to him, "you 
 are Lindy ! just Lindy! There's nobody like you, 
 Lindy my little wood-flower !" 
 
 And Lindy was satisfied.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 ARE you goin' up to the 'lorrels' tonight, 
 Daddy?" Lindy inquired. 
 
 "Yep, I am a-goin' up," was the reply. 
 Having satisfied himself that his revolvers were in 
 readiness Mitry shoved them into his belt ere he went 
 on: "There's a hull lot of whiskey to be got off our 
 hands tonight can't be got off quick 'nough. 
 Heern tell them damned revenoors are a-snoopin 
 round agin," he added, angrily. 
 
 "Hass a-goin' up?" Joan queried. 
 
 "Hass's a-spected," drily. "Nobody knows just 
 what that feller's a-callatin s to do he's so gol- 
 darned contrary, yere lately." 
 
 "He's a moughty mean feller, Miltry; you-uns 
 don't want any bad blood betwixt yer," admonished 
 Joan. 
 
 "Well there's just nacherly got to be a let up, 
 to 't; an I told Hass to-day I war plum' ready 
 for 'im to get out," Mitry exploded. 
 
 "Yuh did tell 'im that? Well then Mitry 
 Loyd, you-uns better watch out for yerself," ex- 
 claimed Joan, nodding her head, meaningly. "Yuh 
 don't need to be told 'bout Hass Hicks none," 
 she added. 
 
 85
 
 86 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Yes, Daddy you watch out," Lindy reiterated, 
 anxiously. 
 
 "I'll watch out all right," was the grim re- 
 sponse. Taking up his gun Mitry started up the 
 trail, prepared for what the night might hold of 
 danger and hindrance to the purpose in view. 
 
 Quickly, noiselessly, he passed up the mountain, 
 his eyes scanning every step of the way. Presently 
 he halted by the side of a stream. Placing his gun 
 lightly against a tree, Mitry dropped softly upon 
 the ground, removed his shoes and hung them around 
 his neck. He then proceeded directly up the bed of 
 the brook. 
 
 The making of whiskey was a recognized source of 
 income to the mountaineer years before any law was 
 enacted against it. It is an inherited business 
 handed down from father to son. Therefore any 
 restriction in the matter and particularly the 
 question of taxes he considers a direct infringe- 
 ment of his God-given rights. 
 
 To the average mountaineer, the obligations of 
 patriotism appeal not at all ; and the feud be- 
 tween the "IVfconshiner" and the revenue officer has 
 been bitter and is of long-standing. The "reve- 
 noor" is regarded as his certain foe ; and where, from 
 force of circumstances, or from whatever motive, 
 the moonshiner may "register" his still, he will yet 
 embrace every opportunity to get his "blockade" 
 whiskey upon the market. In this effort he is ably
 
 LINDY LOYD 87 
 
 abetted by his numerous sympathizers. When 
 caught, the moonshiner pays his fine and repeats 
 the offence upon the first opportunity offered. 
 
 Distilling requires little labor and is a paying 
 business, even to the small operator; the outlay 
 involved depending altogether upon the desired ca- 
 pacity of the "still." The furnishings are few, com- 
 prising the "copper," "worm," "mash-tubs," and the 
 various barrels or receptacles for the distilled liquor. 
 The furnace is a matter of no expense simply 
 stones put together with moistened earth and the 
 fuel lies right at hand. The one absolute require- 
 ment is a stream of running water also right at 
 hand. 
 
 The "lorrels" was an illicit still run by four part- 
 ners of whom Mitry and Hass were two. It had 
 been in successful operation for some time. It was 
 hidden far up the brook, within the heart of a 
 broken, piled-up mass of rocks and still further pro- 
 tected by the noise of the water as it swept over- 
 head, then fell to the depths below. Sifting in be- 
 tween the jagged points of rock came occasional 
 gleams of sunshine and the pure air of Heaven. An 
 escaping rivulet flowing through the cave afforded 
 the necessary water supply. On all sides grew the 
 rhododendrons, their stiff, unyielding branches and 
 heavy foliage massed and intertwined in inextricable 
 confusion, forming an impenetrable thicket. 
 
 The cave was reached with the greatest of caution,
 
 88 LINDY LOYD 
 
 the way of approach being the bed of the brook. 
 Arriving at the falls one left the brook, but never the 
 rocky path, as the impress of a single foot-print 
 would be sufficient indication to the ever vigilant 
 enemy. Proceeding a few steps one lifted the dense, 
 concealing screen of bush and foliage and a narrow 
 foot-path, literally hewn through the rhododen- 
 drons, was disclosed. So close was the growth, so 
 interlaced the branches, that not a single ray of 
 sunlight ever penetrated the gloom. Following this 
 path, one came to a narrow rift in the rock which 
 led directly into the cave. 
 
 Within the last few days a considerable amount of 
 whiskey had materialized at the "lorrels," the safe 
 and speedy disposal of which, was occupying the 
 minds of the producers. 
 
 As has been said, the marketing of "moonshine" is 
 always more or less of an experiment; and of late, 
 owing to a number of recent confiscations of the con- 
 tested article, the operation was attended with even 
 more of secrecy and danger. 
 
 In the present case, considering the newly aroused 
 vigilance of the "revenoors" and the amount of whis- 
 key to be disposed of, it was a matter requiring 
 especial shrewdness in judgment and strategy in 
 execution ; as any error, any lessening of the nec- 
 essary and habitual caution, might involve not only 
 the loss of the whiskey and the arrest of the oper- 
 ators, but might endanger the safety of the still
 
 LINDY LOYD 89 
 
 itself, which, so far, had escaped the clutches of the 
 law. However, having determined upon a plan re- 
 garding the marketing of their perilous merchan- 
 dise, the producers thereof proceeded to carry it 
 out. 
 
 In this instance, as frequently occurs, the whiskey 
 was to be carried to a given point within reach of 
 a road. From there, barring accident, it was to be 
 forwarded by wagon, then passed along by friendly 
 hands, until, by various ways, it reached its final 
 destination ; and as the amount to be disposed of was 
 so considerable, it was decided not to risk the en- 
 tire lot in one venture as had been the course 
 heretofore but to make two consignments of it. 
 This would entail double labor, but be safer under 
 the present circumstances. As matters turned out 
 this proved to be a wise decision. 
 
 Accordingly, upon the morning following the pre- 
 ceding conversation in Mitry's cabin, at the first, 
 faint indication of the opening day, a single man, 
 armed, his shoes hung around his neck and carrying 
 a mysterious burden upon his shoulder, came down 
 the narrow pathway and cautiously lifted the leafy 
 screen. Peering forth into the shadows, he stood 
 for a moment intent, every sense alert; then, step- 
 ping lightly outside, his bare feet falling noiselessly, 
 he vanished down the brook with the sure step, the 
 easy carriage of body possible only to the born 
 mountaineer. After a time, a second man, similarly
 
 90 LINDY LOYD 
 
 burdened, emerged and likewise disappeared; then 
 a third and a fourth. Silently, spectrally, 
 enveloped in shadow, they appeared but for a mo- 
 ment then faded, ghost-like, in the dimness. 
 
 For a short way, keeping a given distance apart, 
 the four followed the bed of the brook. Presently, 
 however, they left the brook and proceeded directly 
 down the mountain to a specified point a pile of 
 rocks and forest debris within easy reach of the road 
 
 where each man, singly and alone, stealthily se- 
 creted his burden, then struck off for home. 
 
 Not long after, an ox-cart carrying bags of corn 
 
 presumably on its way to the mill came creak- 
 ing down the mountain road. With eyes and ears 
 keenly on the lookout for any indication of the en- 
 emy or for a preconcerted warning the driver 
 stepped casually from his cart, and the "moon- 
 shine," covered with the bags of corn, was off on 
 the second stage of its journey. 
 
 The same program was arranged for the follow- 
 ing morning; and but for the fool-hardiness, the 
 obstinacy of one of the number, would, presumably, 
 have met with equal success. 
 
 But Hass Hicks was an uncertain quantity, these 
 days. His always quick temper had become even 
 more en evidence and he was difficult to reckon 
 with. Frequent "fallings out" with his partners 
 had occurred and bad blood was imminent. Par- 
 ticularly was this the case in regard to Mitry Loyd.
 
 LINDY LOYD 91 
 
 As has been stated, this particular enterprise was 
 attended with more than the usual difficulties. In 
 consideration of this, each member of the expedition 
 was expected in the absence of disturbing con- 
 ditions to adhere rigidly to the course of pro- 
 cedure agreed upon. 
 
 The following morning, therefore in pursu- 
 ance of the same arrangement each man, listen- 
 ing, peering, passed lightly along the indicated way 
 and melted in the distance Mitry third in line, 
 Hass Hicks, fourth and last. 
 
 "Damned skunk I won't f oiler s im !" muttered 
 Hass, angrily, as Mitry disappeared in the shadows. 
 Pausing, he gazed warily about him. "Damn 'im!" 
 he reiterated and filled with blind, unreasoning hate, 
 Hass flung caution to the winds and entering upon 
 a shorter cut to the designated point, plunged reck- 
 lessly down the mountain. 
 
 Suddenly, and apparently from the very ground 
 at his feet, uprose an officer of the law then an- 
 other. Ere this, however, Hass was behind cover, 
 revolver in hand. Bitter, desperate, he was an ugly 
 customer to handle, and before he was overcome one 
 officer was disabled and Hass himself severely 
 wounded. Finally, however, Hass was hand-cuffed 
 and marched off to the "jail-house." 
 
 Meanwhile, the first and second men in the line, 
 adhering strictly to the plan agreed on, had delivered
 
 92 LINDY LOYD 
 
 their goods and were each on their way home. Mitry, 
 however, less fortunate, was out in the open and 
 almost within sight of his goal when the first shot 
 was fired. 
 
 "Dad-burn them revenoors!" he muttered as he 
 fled to cover. "Wonder where's that Hass? Hit 
 is plum' time for 'im " and he scanned the trail, 
 anxiously. "Ah the dum-f ool !" he exploded, as 
 more shots rent the air. "The contrary whelp ! 
 a-riskin* the hull crop that a-ways !" 
 
 After a time all sounds of disturbance ceased and 
 Mitry, revolver in hand, stole warily forth. Creep- 
 ing from cover to cover he finally reached the pile 
 of debris, secreted his moonshine and concluding the 
 coast to be now clear, fearlessly sought the scene 
 of recent conflict. That the struggle had been 
 severe was evidenced by the trampled ground and 
 torn shrubbery. Searching, Mitry presently came 
 upon the whiskey carefully hidden within the bushes. 
 "Yah-yah them gol-darned revenoors ! a-spect- 
 in* to kem back an tote 't away wuz ye?" he 
 jeered; and exultant, yet cautious, Mitry defiantly 
 carried the whiskey to its appointed destination and 
 concealed it with the rest. 
 
 Within the next twenty-four hours every possible 
 hiding-place in the vicinity was submitted to a rigor- 
 ous search the pile of debris among the rest but 
 with no result.
 
 LINDY LOYD 93 
 
 Convinced that a large amount of whiskey had 
 slipped through their grasp, the officers of the law 
 redoubled their efforts and a number of stills were 
 raided within the month. The "lorrels," however, 
 remained unearthed.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 SI ETTER, he's a-goin to have a fun'ral," Mrs. 
 Hicks announced, appearing suddenly in Joan's 
 doorway. 
 
 "Who for?" Joan demanded, austerely, the dasher 
 hanging suspended. 
 
 "His wife." 
 
 "His wife! Huh " sniffed Joan, "an for 
 which one, I wonder? for he's got his third, right 
 now; an' I never heern tell of any fun'ral for ary 
 of them two othern's not yet." 
 
 "Mebbe Si's a-callatin to have two fun'rals at 
 onct an save expense," Mrs. Hicks suggested. 
 
 "Well then somebody orter tell Si Etter to 
 put the fun'ral off a leetle longer, yet; an he can 
 have 't for all three of 'em," exploded Joan, "for 
 everybody knows that Miz Etter, she has one laig in 
 the grave, right this very minute; an if 't hadn't 
 been for old black Polly she'd been all the ways in 
 long an long ago. I clar for 't, Brackie, I'd just like 
 to know what's got into this yere milk," Joan con- 
 cluded, irrelevantly. 
 
 "What's hit?" 
 
 Joan pounded the dasher up and down tempestu- 
 94
 
 LINDY LOYD 95 
 
 ously as she exploded: "Been a-churnin ever since 
 sun-up ; an this yere pesky butter ain't kem yet ! 
 An milk's a gettin that scarce yuh wouldn't be- 
 lieve, Brackie." 
 
 "A-speakin of churnin, Joan, Miz Pegg, now 
 she ain't got no cow, has she?" 
 
 "Cow? Mandy Pegg? No, she ain't got no 
 cow ; ain't got nuthin that goes on four laigs 
 except that old tom-cat that used to belong to 
 Granny Pegg." 
 
 "I war just certain Miz Pegg had no cow," Brackie 
 assented, contentedly. 
 
 "Well what's hit?" Joan demanded, struck by 
 a nameless something in Brackie's manner. 
 
 "Well then Joan " and Brackie settled 
 herself firmly into her chair, her chin thrust for- 
 ward, aggressively, "Miz Pegg, she war a-churnin 
 whenst I kem by there, yesterday." 
 
 Joan's dasher was again suspended as she de- 
 rided : "A-churnin ! Miz Pegg a-churnin! You- 
 uns must be clear plum' crazy, Brack Hicks. Why 
 Miz Pegg, she haven't even she haven't even a 
 goat !" 
 
 "Joan," Mrs. Hicks reiterated, undauntedly, "Miz 
 Pegg, she war a-churnin whenst / Jcem by 
 there yesterday!" 
 
 "Well then, Brackie " Joan demanded ; and 
 having succeeded in establishing the main fact, 
 Mrs. Hicks proceeded with her narration.
 
 96 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Miz Pegg's house, hit war all shut up whenst I 
 kem 'long. First off, I thought nobody wuz to hum ; 
 and then, Joan, then " with a significant pause 
 "I heerd the churn a-goin ker-plunkity plunk- 
 ity plunkity plunkity " 
 
 "I want to know!" Joan exclaimed, 
 breathlessly. 
 
 "Yep that war just hit," and Mrs. Hicks 
 paused to enjoy the effect of her announcement. 
 
 "Go on, Brackie go on !" Joan urged. 
 
 "Well Joan I war right there, an Miz Pegg, 
 she be new folkses, so I said to myself 'mebbe you'd 
 orter be friendly like,' yuh knows, Joan, so I up 
 an tried the door. An hit war locked, Joan. Hit 
 tear locked." 
 
 "Are yuh sure that door was locked, Brackie? 
 sure now?" Joan demanded. 
 
 "Hit bodaciously war Joan," was the tart 
 reply. 
 
 "Huh! huh!" 
 
 "An I war just a-movin aways," Mrs. Hicks con- 
 tinued, whenst the door, hit opened a leetle crack an 
 Miz Pegg, she peeked out. I clar for 't Joan she 
 looked that queer an there we-uns stood, just 
 a-gawpin." 
 
 "Land-sakes !" ejaculated Joan, her hands upon 
 the long since perfectly quiescent dasher. 
 
 "Then Miz Pegg, she asked me to kem in an in 
 I went ; an there set the churn yep there 't war!
 
 LINDY LOYD 97 
 
 I clar for 't, Joan, I war that upset I didn't know 
 nuthin 'tall ; didn't know which war Miz Pegg 
 which war churn nor which war chair ; an I all 
 but set plum' down onto that churn; would, if 
 Miz Pegg she hadn't a-pulled me off I war that 
 be-addled. What's hit?" she demanded, sharply, 
 in response to a strange, gutteral sound from her 
 companion. 
 
 "Tain't nuthin, Brackie, nuthin 't all," choked 
 Joan, busying herself in another part of the kitchen. 
 
 Mrs. Hicks's eyes followed Joan suspiciously. 
 "Did a fly get down yer neck, Joan?" she persisted. 
 
 "No didn't no fly get down my neck. Go on, 
 Brackie." 
 
 But Mrs. Hicks still gazed mistrustfully at Joan. 
 "Don't know where I war at now," she fumed. 
 
 "You-uns war a-huntin 'round for that chair," 
 chuckled Joan. 
 
 "I'm a-goin!" blazed Mrs. Hicks, her suspicions 
 confirmed. "Yer always a-laughin " 
 
 "Now, Brackie, yuh just set right down an tell 
 me the rest of 't. I'm not a-laughin am I?" 
 
 "Mebbe not right this yere minute ; but nobody 
 knows " 
 
 "What'd Miz Pegg have to say for herself, Brackie 
 anyways?" Joan persisted. 
 
 "Didn't say nuthin neither did I ; an I can 
 tell yuh, Joan Loyd, hit sure war moughty curious 
 'round there for awhiles. After a bit I found my
 
 98 LINDY LOYD 
 
 tongue an I said oh just airy like 'I see yuh 
 be a-churnin', Miz Pegg.' ' 
 
 "Ain't 't now?" interpolated Joan, breathlessly. 
 
 "An Miz Pegg, she up an said sorta quick, like 
 an her face, hit wuz as red as a beet, Joan, just 
 as red as a beet 'Oh, yep I'd gathered up one 
 thing ernuther an I thought I mought as well do 
 a leetle churnin', says she." And the two women 
 gazed at each other in eloquent silence. 
 
 "Said 'she'd gathered up one thing ernuther'! 
 Good-land-er-Goshen ! Brackie," exploded Joan, "now 
 I wonder just where she'd been a-gatherin' it? 
 that's the thing ! where where? Brackie," her 
 excitement growing, "have yuh heern tell of any- 
 body else a-worryin' bout their milk a-gettin' short?" 
 
 "Laws-a-massy ! Joan yuh ain't a-sposin " 
 
 "Ain't a-sposin nuthin, Brack. Folkses can't 
 churn without milk, can they?" 
 
 "Nope spose not," agreed Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "Well then " Receiving no reply, Joan con- 
 tinued "Where'd that Pegg woman kem from, any- 
 ways, Brackie?" 
 
 "Oh way off somewheres. She don't belong 
 'round yere, none." 
 
 "Well she'd better go back there," Joan de- 
 clared ; and silence fell. 
 
 "What'd yuh heern from Hass, Brackie?" in- 
 quired Joan, presently.
 
 LINDY LOYD 99 
 
 "Oh he's a-gettin along pore feller." 
 
 "An that revenoor as Hass most killed?" 
 
 "He's a-gettin along, too now. Hite Cronce, 
 he war a-tellin me that 't war a dost shave for that 
 revenoor. Hite, he's been up to the jail-house 
 twict," she added. 
 
 "Brackie Hicks, you-uns ought to get down on 
 yer knees an thank the Lord 'bout that revenoor." 
 
 "Mebbe I have," laconically. 
 
 "Well if Hass had a killed 'im yuh knows 
 just what that'd meant," Joan persisted. 
 
 "Hass, he war dretful hurted hisself, Joan." 
 
 "He war the one to blame for that, Brackie." 
 
 "Mebbe so mebbe so, but well Joan " 
 Brackie burst forth, "Hass, he have been just so 
 tried yere lately some f olkes, they have made 
 't so hard for 'im that the pore feller, he have 
 hardly knowed what he war at," she concluded, sig- 
 nificantly, her eyes upon Joan. 
 
 Joan made no response. 
 
 "Where be Lindy anyways ?" Mrs. Hicks de- 
 manded, irrelevantly. 
 
 "Gone down to Dark Holler," was the nonchalant 
 reply. 
 
 And Mrs. Hicks "took the bull by the horns." 
 "Them three months, they be up in November, Joan, 
 an Hass, he says he's a-goin to be jined to Lindy 
 just as soon as he gets out."
 
 100 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Hass's a plum' id jit, Brack." 
 
 "Mebbe so," persisted Mrs. Hicks, "but I can 
 tell yuh one thing, Joan Loyd, an that ain't two; 
 whenst Hass Hicks, he onct gets a thing into his 
 haid hit's there plum'! an he'll get the thing 
 he's after or or sumpins just nacherly gotter 
 bust." 
 
 "Well then Brack sumpins likely to have 
 a chanct to bust !" Joan flared. "Why can't 
 Hass get some sense into his knot?" 
 
 "Dunno dunno " was the hasty response, 
 "but I sure wish he war to hum:" and Mrs. Hicks 
 sighed drearily. "Hite, he says that Hass's thin as 
 a rail and coughs and coughs." 
 
 "Don't worry 'bout Hass, Brackie he's a-gettin 
 long all right now. An 'tain't nuthin to be put into 
 the jail-house just a happen-so," Joan went on, 
 bent upon comforting Brackie, "for nobody can tell 
 who's a-goin to be shut in there, next Mitry, just 
 like's not another feller as is af card of nuthin 
 nor nobody." 
 
 "Yep that's so," agreed Mrs. Hicks. "But 't 
 air sure lonesome for me, Joan up in my cabin all 
 alone. Yuh don't know how lonesome," she added. 
 
 "Of course hit be, Brackie," cried Joan, sympa- 
 thetically. "Be you-uns a-goin to the dance over to 
 Rufe Kane's kem Thursday night?" 
 
 "Nope reckon not now."
 
 LINDY LOYD 101 
 
 "Better go, Brackie, hit'll pearten yuh up. 
 We-uns'll kem by an carry yuh long with us." 
 
 "Well then mebbe I'll go. Yep, reckon I'll 
 go, Joan," agreed Mrs. Hicks in a more cheerful 
 tone. And she departed to her cabin.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE dance in question was a yearly occurrence, 
 generally anticipated, and the participants 
 came from far and near. The place where it 
 was held was a matter of expediency usually ; and 
 while there might be, and were, occurrences of simi- 
 lar character throughout the year, this particular 
 merry-making, to which all were bidden, occupied a 
 place by itself in the estimation of the mountaineers. 
 
 This time the dance was to take place over in 
 the Cove with Rufus Kane's new, unfinished barn as 
 the scene of the festivity Rufe's cabin to serve 
 as cloak-room, kitchen and nursery this last, a 
 most important adjunct. The supper, no small 
 item in the entertainment and to which all were 
 allowed to contribute was in charge of certain 
 women of the party. 
 
 Thursday night arrived, clear and beautiful with 
 a full moon overhead. At an early hour the old and 
 young whole families, indeed, the babies in arms 
 could be seen approaching the appointed place, 
 many having walked miles over rocky pathways. 
 
 Some carried their shoes slung around the neck, 
 or if on the feet, a better pair in the case of some 
 
 102
 
 LINDY LOYD 103 
 
 fair one might be found carefully wrapped in a 
 handkerchief. Some came with no shoes at all. In 
 any case, shoes or not, it was a merry-hearted com- 
 pany, bent on a night of frolic. 
 
 Presently the Loyds and Mrs. Hicks joined the 
 others on the trail ; Lindy, her heart atune with her 
 eager feet, stepping along joyously. 
 
 Dancing was unalloyed pleasure to Lindy and 
 these particular occasions were anticipated with de- 
 light. Lindy's love for dancing was inborn; she 
 danced as a matter of course as naturally as the 
 birds sang ; and when but a tiny child, a single strain 
 of music particularly if it were the twang of 
 strings would prove sufficient to set the little feet 
 twinkling. 
 
 Mitry, recognizing this ability, recalled for the 
 girl's pleasure for his own also the visions of 
 his youth; his old-time proficiency in the merry 
 pastime; his memories of the beautiful and charac- 
 teristic dances of Andalusia in which the emotions, 
 through the medium of a skilled performance, are 
 so wonderfully portrayed. 
 
 And Lindy was an apt pupil. No posture was too 
 difficult, no step too fantastic for her to undertake; 
 her pliant body and expressive face lending them- 
 selves to any requirement of the delineation. 
 
 Perhaps the girl's rather exceptional facility in 
 the art may have been due to some far-away ances- 
 tor in sunny Spain, where dancing is not only a time-
 
 104 LINDY LOYD 
 
 honored, national custom, but a recognized avenue 
 for the expression of sentiment. Be that as it may, 
 the graceful, emotional Andalusian dances as inter- 
 preted by Lindy in which Mitry frequently bore 
 a part were admitted sources of great enjoyment 
 to the simple-hearted mountaineers. 
 
 "Don't reckon yer Daddy'll get a chanct to shake 
 his foot with you-uns, to-night, Cita," said Mitry, 
 gazing fondly at the girl tripping so buoyantly at 
 his side, her face alight with expectation. 
 
 Lindy immediately slipped her arm confidingly 
 within his, her sweet face uplifted. And Mitry was 
 answered. 
 
 "Pore Hass shut up there in the jail-house," 
 muttered Mrs. Hicks, her eyes upon the happy girl, 
 "But he'll be out again he'll be out," she added. 
 
 Mitry 's jaw tightened, but he made no reply. 
 
 "Hear the big bull-fiddle a-boomin," cried Joan, 
 gaily, as they drew near to their destination. "I 
 clar for 't, Brackie, hit's a-gettin into my feet this 
 yere very minute!" and Joan picked up her skirts 
 and proceeded to execute some fancy steps, to the 
 great delight of those in her immediate vicinity. 
 
 "You-uns 'd better cool down a leetle, Joan," 
 quietly advised Mitry, exercising his frequent pre- 
 rogative. 
 
 "Cool down Mitry? me? Land-a-livin !" 
 merrily responded Joan, "I ain't a-goin to cool down 
 noways at 'all ! I'm just a-goin' to steppit to-
 
 LINDY LOYD 105 
 
 night, every chanct I get ! even if even if 't 
 has to be with old Uncle Dave Herron," she con- 
 cluded, audaciously, alluding to the octogenarian of 
 the locality. And Joan disappeared within the cabin. 
 
 It was a merry scene. The barn, a skeleton-like 
 affair, not yet entirely inclosed, was destitute of 
 either partition or mow. Through the unfinished 
 apertures the cool evening breeze wandered at will. 
 From the rafters and sides of the building lanterns 
 were suspended; along one side benches had been 
 placed, not for wall-flowers, however, for in this 
 assembly there were none. In one corner was sta- 
 tioned "the musicianers" : a violin, bass-viol and 
 two or three banjos. In another stood the customary 
 pail of water and drinking-gourd, while somewhere 
 about, in a secluded spot known to the initiated, was 
 the always to be found "mountain dew" for cases 
 where a stronger refreshment was thought necessary. 
 
 Above the enticing strains of the music, the merry 
 voices and tripping feet, rose clear and distinct the 
 voice of the gray-haired veteran upon whose pres- 
 ence the success of the evening was said to depend. 
 Listen as he sweeps his bow across the strings in 
 the old-time melodies, nodding, gesticulating: "Gals 
 to the center an all hands 'round " he shouts ; 
 then suddenly, with emphasis all his own "The 
 yuiher way 'round!" and as with laugh and jest the 
 merry riot struggles back to place he calls again: 
 "That's the way, boys steppit up steppit up !"
 
 106 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Ah truly he is a wizard with the strings. His 
 magnetism is great. He knows how to lighten the 
 weary feet to renew the visions of days gone by 
 to banish, for the time being, the memory of rusty 
 joints, creaking sinews and rheumatic twinges. 
 Everybody is on the floor, old and young; fancy 
 steps of long ago are revived and the fun waxes fast 
 and furious. "Swing corners balance all " he 
 shouts. "Gals to the right boys to the left " 
 his body swaying in unison with his bow. Presently, 
 with a long drawn-out "Promenade all " the per- 
 formers seek the outer air. 
 
 Lindy was in great demand. The coolness and in- 
 trepidity manifested in her recent encounter with the 
 panther and particularly her riddance of the 
 beast but served to increase the interest and pride 
 in her ; and a dance with Mitry Loyd's "darter" be- 
 came something to be accomplished by the simple- 
 hearted mountain people. Lindy received their 
 hearty compliments with a quiet grace of manner, 
 replying with frankness to the well-meant, if some- 
 what curious inquiries in regard to her rescue by 
 that "docter feller", and footed it merrily with old 
 and young alike. 
 
 Presently the usual request for a character dance 
 from Lindy and Mitry arose and in response to a 
 sign from her father the girl stepped lightly out 
 upon the floor. "We-uns'll dance the Malaguena, 
 to-night, Cita," he said, referring to one of the many
 
 LINDY LOYD 107 
 
 variations of the Bolero regarded with especial favor 
 by the mountaineers. 
 
 Catching up a bit of shawl for mantilla or 
 scarf play important parts in these dances Lindy 
 flung it coquettishly about her and with face alight, 
 arms gracefully extended, poised lightly upon one 
 foot awaiting the signal to proceed. 
 
 Immediately the players began an old, well known 
 Spanish melody, the required accent being supplied 
 by a skilful use of "bones" in lieu of castanets. 
 
 And truly Lindy was fair to look upon. To the 
 natural beauty of the girl was added the charm of 
 her newly-awakened soul her love for Hugh. And 
 to-night, with this deeper insight into the meaning of 
 life her pulses swayed and thrilled by the call of 
 the music, Lindy was an inspiration she danced 
 as never before. Musicians and spectators alike, en- 
 tered into the spirit of the occasion, the latter re- 
 sponding in ways of their own with head, heels 
 and hands, or soft, sibilant whispers to the irre- 
 sistible appeal of the castanet rhythm. 
 
 Quiet, intent, the mountaineers watched the gradual 
 unfolding of the pretty story, the skilful interpre- 
 tation of Love's theme. The girl, gracious, indif- 
 ferent, inviting then withholding; he dauntlessly 
 pursuing, beseeching, yet always courteous. She 
 coquetting with eyes, hands and scarf ; at times inter- 
 posing it as a shield between herself and her too im- 
 portunate lover; at times, allowing only the chal-
 
 108 LINDY LOYD 
 
 lenging eyes to appear. He patiently enduring, 
 wooing her with gentleness yet determination. 
 
 As the story developed, the girl's perverseness be- 
 gan to yield. The music grew softer, the poses 
 more compliant, the refusals more and more hesi- 
 tant, until, finally, she stood before her lover a pic- 
 ture of sweet surrender. Proudly he drew her to 
 him and with the last faint whisper of the quiver- 
 ing strings their lips met in a lover's kiss. 
 
 Meanwhile, a considerable amount of interest had 
 centered about the cabin, from which came delightful 
 whiffs of coffee and the merry voices of the women 
 in charge of the table which had been spread just 
 outside in the moonlight. Presently all gathered 
 about it. 
 
 Rufus Kane's cabin had three rooms, the one 
 farthest from the kitchen having been set aside as a 
 sleeping-room for the babies and younger children. 
 Deposited according to their ages and degrees 
 of responsibility upon floor, bench or table and 
 watched over by the maternal half of their progeni- 
 tors who, at any hour of the evening might be 
 seen stealing into the darkened room upon minister- 
 ing duties intent they, for the most part, slept 
 peacefully. 
 
 In one corner of the room two tables had been 
 placed together and covered with a folded quilt. 
 Upon this improvised couch reposed the three young- 
 est members of the gathering: Henry Crum, junior,
 
 LINDY LOYD 109 
 
 young Ephraim Tuttle both from up the moun- 
 tain and a little daughter of Cale Cronce's from 
 the Cove. During the early part of the evening quite 
 an amount of interest and attention had centered 
 about these little new-comers, but now, filled to re- 
 pletion and closely wrapped in shawls, as became 
 their very tender age, they, with the rest of the chil- 
 dren, slept quietly. 
 
 After a time, Si Etter, having imbibed a generous 
 portion of the "mountain dew" wandered stupidly 
 into the darkened room in search of a place where 
 he might, in privacy, indulge in a few moments of 
 repose. 
 
 "Every blame place full consarn 't !" he mut- 
 tered, peering senselessly about in the gloom. Stum- 
 bling over to a bench he dropped down upon a pile 
 
 of shawls and closed his eyes. "Ah-h-h " he 
 
 breathed, luxuriously, stretching his legs ; and 
 immediately the air was rent with indignant shrieks 
 from the squirming, desperate object beneath him. 
 
 "Great Snakes !" exclaimed the now sobered man, 
 releasing his victim, while from every side frightened 
 yells and protestations floated out into the night. 
 Even the very dogs united in the wild appeal. 
 
 "Great Snakes !" he reiterated, bewildered, aghast 
 at the constantly increasing clamor. "Yere they 
 kem be-damn!" he burst forth, wildly, lifting his 
 hands in helpless appeal as the sound of excited 
 voices and flying footsteps drew near; and gazing
 
 110 LINDY LOYD 
 
 frenziedly about for a way of escape, Si climbed 
 shakily upon the window-sill and dropped, panting, 
 outside. "Consarn them wimmin!" he gasped, 
 steadying his trembling body against the cabin. 
 
 Meanwhile, all was wild confusion and terrified 
 question within the darkened room; mothers franti- 
 cally seizing their offspring with but one thought: 
 to be assured of their safety. 
 
 "The window " gasped one. 
 
 "Tain't open " 
 
 "Yep hit be!" 
 
 "Get a light quick ! just like's not hit be a-hidin' 
 under sunipin " 
 
 "What's a-hidin under sumpin?" 
 
 "Nobody knows." 
 
 "Painter just like's not," said one, voicing the 
 fear in every heart. 
 
 "Painter " 
 
 "Painter Good-land-er-livin !" and the more 
 agile immediately climbed upon the first bit of fur- 
 niture at hand. 
 
 The entrance of a light, however, restored confi- 
 dence and common sense and, the panic over, a 
 measure of quiet succeeded. 
 
 "Must have bin a dog as clumb in the window," 
 suggested one. 
 
 "Well then there ain't a-goin to be any 
 more dogs a-climbin in I'll see to that," declared 
 another, securing the window.
 
 LINDY LOYD 111 
 
 "Hit wan't no dog, Mammy" murmured a small 
 voice. 
 
 (One could have heard the fall of a pin.) 
 
 "What war 't, Billy?" every ear alert. 
 
 "Hit war Uncle Si, Mammy." A speaking silence 
 followed this declaration. 
 
 "Shucks! yuh war a-dreamin, Billy." 
 
 "I warn't a-dreamin, Mammy." 
 
 "Be yuh sure hit war Uncle Si, Billy?" 
 
 "I see 'im climb out the window, Mammy " 
 
 "I see 'im, too " 
 
 "Me, too " 
 
 "Well-I-never! Si Etter! Good-Land! " 
 chorused the indignant women. 
 
 "Now what you-all reckon Si Etter war a-snoopin 
 in yere, for?" demanded one. 
 
 "A-huntin a comf'table place for a snooze, most 
 likely " 
 
 "An a-settin hisself plum' on the top of some pore 
 babby to get 't, I reckon " 
 
 "An I bet 't war my babby he set on!" exploded 
 one, hugging her still frightened offspring to her 
 breast. 
 
 "Well sumpin moughty bad's bliged to have 
 happened to set the children a-hollerin' so, and I 
 think sumpin had orter be done to Si Etter ! 
 a-skeerin everybody up so. I war just certain some 
 wild beastis had broke in," burst forth another. 
 
 "Me, too me too !" chorused the women.
 
 112 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Well now " soothed another, "If 't war 
 nuthin wuss than Si Etter we-alls can have some more 
 fun one more dance, anyways. I war a-callatin 
 to spend the rest of my time right yere." And in a 
 short time kindly sleep again enfolded the children 
 and the festivities of the evening once more held 
 sway. 
 
 But the first delicate ray of light was already 
 stealing up the sky and the revellers gathered upon 
 the floor for a last, merry reel. "Balance to the 
 corners up the middle and down again turn yer 
 back on yer pardner " sang the gray-haired vet- 
 eran ; and the barn reechoed with the gay riot. 
 
 With a final flourish and a "Promenade all " 
 the veteran laid down his bow. Immediately gay 
 farewells were said, sweethearts sought each other 
 and heads of households, hastily gathering up their 
 sleeping children, hurried home to the duties awaiting 
 them.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A FEW hours later, Mrs. Hicks could be seen 
 hurrying along the trail. Reaching the 
 Loyds' cabin she flung the gate wide, raced 
 up the path and Peter, sunning himself peacefully 
 upon the porch, started immediately for the barn. 
 
 "Here comes Brackie and there goes Peter. 
 Queer " muttered Joan, drawn to the window by 
 the slamming of the gate. "Reckon I've just got 
 to ask Brackie what 't war she done to 'im pore 
 cat. Good-land! Brack sure has got something to 
 tell this time," she concluded; and Mrs. Hicks 
 burst, panting, into the kitchen. "Joan Joan 
 have you-uns heern tell?" she cried. 
 
 "Heern tell what?" 
 
 "Laws-a-massy ! Joan, ain't yuh heern tell 'bout 
 them pore leetle babbies ? I clar for 't I'm that 
 het up " Mrs. Hicks interpolated and seizing her 
 apron she applied it to her face. 
 
 "Well Brackie whose pore leetle babbies?" 
 Joan demanded, grimly. 
 
 "An yuh ain't heerd a word 'bout 't, Joan?" 
 
 "No Joan drawled, "been a-listenin' too, 
 Brackie," she added, significantly. 
 
 113
 
 114 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Well Hen Crum an Cale Cronce, they's had 
 the biggest kind of a set-to air a-havin 't yet, for 
 that matter an Hen Crum, he war out all the 
 mornin with his gun after Cale Cronce or Si 
 Etter, said he didn't care which an Cale Cronce, 
 he started out early after Hen an an Si Etter, 
 he air out after 'em both." 
 
 "Good-land !" Joan exclaimed. 
 
 "Yep an the Tuttles an the Allers an the Pralls 
 an an all the f olkses from up the mountain an 
 all the f olkses from the Cove an purty nigh the 
 hull neighborhood yep an Miz Pegg, too, Joan 
 they's all mixed up in 't an an hadn't yuh 
 heern tell nuthin " 
 
 "No I hadn't ! An what's more, I haven't heard 
 yet !" exploded the exasperated Joan. "Now, Brack 
 Hicks, if you-uns don't cool down an tell me what's 
 hit right off I'll I'll " and Joan reached 
 for her sun-bonnet. 
 
 "Don't get so mad, Joan but 't do be queer yuh 
 ain't heern " But Joan had started for the door. 
 
 Seizing her by her apron, Brackie held on as she 
 rattled off: "Hen Crum, he toted Cronce's babby 
 clear way up on the mountain an Cale Cronce, he 
 toted Hen's babby way down to the Cove ; an they's 
 both a-blamin Si Etter for mixin 'em up ; an Si, 
 he sez he don't know a thing in the world 'bout any 
 of 't an swears he'll shoot 'em both for a-layin such 
 a thing onter 'im an an "
 
 LINDY LOYD 115 
 
 "Land-er-livin ! Brackie, yuh ain't a-tellin me that 
 them two leetle babbies war swapped " 
 
 "Yep that's just hit, Joan. They war swapped" 
 
 "An they's a-blamin Si Etter for doin 't?" 
 
 "Si, he war in there yuh knows, Joan 
 a-scarin up the childern." 
 
 "Well well ain't 't now?" breathed Joan. 
 "Just 'bout like Si Etter to mix 'em up that 
 aways," she added. 
 
 "Hen Crum, Cale Cronce an Si Etter they's all 
 out on the war-path, sure 'nough, an I'm moughty 
 glad they ain't out after any of mine; for they be 
 powerful mad an 't '11 be a good lammin' for the 
 galoot as did the mixin if 't ain't nuthin wuss," 
 went on Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "I wan-ter-know ! Brackie?" and Joan eyed her 
 companion, doubtfully, "I wonder now if you- 
 uns have got 't straight?" 
 
 Mrs. Hicks rose from her chair and tied on her 
 sun-bonnet. "I bodaciously have got 't straight, 
 Joan Loyd," she cried, wrathfully, "yuh air always 
 a-axin me 'have I got 't straight.' Be yuh a-hint- 
 in " 
 
 "Ain't a-hintin nuthin, Brack an don't fly off 
 the handle, nuther. Them pore leetle babbies ! when 
 did they-alls find 't out, Brackie? They war going 
 long peaceably 'nough when we-uns left 'em." 
 
 "Didn't find out 'till they-alls war clear hum an 
 unkivered 'em."
 
 116 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Huh ! way up on the mountain an clear down 
 to the Cove. Must have been considerable of a to-do 
 just 'bout that time, Brackie," chuckled Joan. 
 
 "Reckon that be hit." 
 
 "Seems like the light had burnt out in the room 
 an hit war plum* dark whenst they-alls went in to get 
 the babbies; but the three leetle ones war a-layin 
 on the table, just as they had been, an Ann Tuttle, 
 she picked hers up an hurried off. But somebody 
 had mixed the two other'ns up turned 'em plum' 
 'zactly 'round; more'n that, Sallie Crum's shawl 
 had been put on the Cronce babby an Betsy Cronce's 
 shawl on the Crum babby an I'd like yuh to beat 
 that," Mrs. Hicks concluded. 
 
 "Sounds like a clear case of mixin, Brackie," Joan 
 declared, "now who do yuh spose done 't?" 
 
 "Nobody knows; but I don't b'lieve 't war Si 
 Etter, Joan." 
 
 "That miserable Si Etter," Joan burst forth, 
 "always a-gettin hisself to the front, someways. I 
 clar for 't I never see his equal ; the leetle, 
 skinny dried-up old skite!" 
 
 "That's kez he's always a-drinkin an a-carryin on 
 so ; but Si Etter, he ain't so old, Joan." 
 
 "He's old 'nough to know how to behave hisself 
 a whole heap better than he does," Joan retorted ; 
 "an Miz Etter just buried, too ! Did yuh see 'im, 
 Brackie a-caperin 'round with that Pegg woman?" 
 
 "Si war just out for a good time, Joan."
 
 LINDY LOYD 117 
 
 "Well reckon he had't ; wild beastis show an 
 all of 't." 
 
 "Pore Si ! mebbe if he'd a-married the right 
 woman, Joan " Mrs. Hicks paused and gazed 
 significantly at her companion. 
 
 "Si Etter certainly have had no scarcity of wo- 
 men, Brack ; an a man what'll have four or 
 five" 
 
 "Joan Loyd!" gasped Brackie, "Si Etter's only 
 been married three " 
 
 "An out a-huntin up his fourth already," snapped 
 Joan. 
 
 "You-uns always 'pear to hate Si Etter so 
 moughty bad, Joan; now I wonder why?" and 
 Mrs. Hicks peered shrewdly into Joan's face. 
 
 "Mebbe I knows too many of his goin's-on," Joan 
 returned, shortly, as she turned away. 
 
 "Well he's no old man, anyways. Si Etter's 
 no older than yuh be, Joan an yuh knows 't." 
 Which statement was entirely correct. 
 
 Si Etter had rather an unenviable reputation. He 
 was known to be a "hard liver" with what the 
 term may imply of personal indulgence. With it all, 
 however, was a certain frank audacity, a sang froid 
 in regard to his delinquencies, which, generally speak- 
 ing, carried him along. To the wrecking of "love's 
 young dream" was attributed the responsibility of 
 Si's wasted life, and upon Joan Loyd as upon the 
 woman was laid the burden. Whatever unfor-
 
 118 LINDY LOYD 
 
 tunate mischance may have occurred, was securely 
 locked within the past ; the only tangible evidence, a 
 sudden and complete undoing of the tender relations 
 existing between the two. In respect to Joan, the 
 effect of the rupture was an attitude of unsparing 
 judgment towards Si's manner of life; an atti- 
 tude, however, in the opinion of Mrs. Hicks 
 used only as a shield for a far more compassionate 
 sentiment. 
 
 "Wisht Hass could a seen Lindy, last night 
 a-dancin'," Mrs. Hicks went on, presently. 
 
 Joan made no reply. 
 
 "She war that purty an happy. Didn't 'pear 
 to be a-carin none ; wan't a-missin nothin nor 
 nor nobody," Mrs. Hicks persisted, meaningly. 
 
 Joan maintained her silence. 
 
 "Where be she then?" Mrs. Hicks snapped, 
 turning to her unresponsive companion. 
 
 " Who Lindy ? oh she have gone down to 
 Dark Holler to carry some aigs," was the noncha- 
 lant reply. 
 
 "Huh huh !" snorted Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "Brackie, have you-uns heern tell who's to do the 
 preachin' kem the "bush-meetin" next week?" Joan 
 inquired, presently. 
 
 "I heern that a great 'vangelist from way off 
 somewhere war a-comin, for one; an there wuz an- 
 other'n spoke of but I don't 'member now. Of 
 course Brother Burruss'll be there, Joan," Brackie 
 added, significantly.
 
 LINDY LOYD 119 
 
 "Well Brackio I, for one, am moughty glad 
 Brother Burruss air a-comin; hit wouldn't be bush- 
 meetin without 'im would 't, Brackie?" was the 
 calm response. 
 
 "No that hit wouldn't," and Mrs. Hicks rose 
 to depart. "Joan, can I borry yer dye-tub? 
 mine's got broke ; an I've gotter dip my caliker frock 
 again 'fore I go." 
 
 "An I must remember to have Mitry go up to the 
 camp to burn out the snakes; they's just nacherly 
 'bliged to be thick under the platforms," said Joan, 
 mischievously, as she returned with the tub. 
 
 "Snakes snakes " and Mrs. Hicks shuddered, 
 "I clar for 't, Joan, I plum forgot 'bout the snakes. 
 Of course they's 'bliged to be thick, up there. Reckon 
 I'd better stay to hum." 
 
 "Yuh'll just kem right 'long with we-uns, Brackie," 
 laughed Joan. "The snakes won't be so bad." And 
 Mrs. Hicks departed.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 LINDY had left the eggs at the hotel, refilled 
 her basket at the village store and was on her 
 way up the mountain. As she turned into the 
 familiar trail she was joined by Hugh Humphrey, a 
 frequent occurrence these days. "Give me your bas- 
 ket, Lindy," he said, taking it from her with lover- 
 like authority; and they proceeded on up the moun- 
 tain. 
 
 "You look just like a rose this morning, Lindy 
 a pink rose. I do not know which is the more pink, 
 your cheeks or your sun-bonnet." 
 
 "But, Hugh," protested the girl, her color deepen- 
 ing, "I ought to look like a white rose for 
 I danced the most of last night. I danced every 
 dance, Hugh," she added, demurely, her eyes prop- 
 erly downcast. 
 
 "I would hardly expect you to be a wall-flower, 
 Lindy." 
 
 Lindy threw him a winsome glance. 
 
 Presently they reached the shade of the old pine 
 and dropped down upon the needles. For a time the 
 two remained silent, luxuriating in the cooling, fra- 
 grant breeze in the peace and charm of the forest. 
 
 120
 
 LINDY LOYD 121 
 
 "Have have you heard from your college 
 yet Hugh?" began Lindy, lifting apprehensive 
 eyes. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And you will tell me just as soon " 
 
 "I will tell you, Lindy. I should hear almost any 
 day now." 
 
 The girl gave a soft little sigh. "Yes the fall 
 will soon be here and and you will be gone, 
 Hugh," she murmured, winking the tears away. 
 
 Hugh drew her closer to him. "Lindy," he cried, 
 bent upon cheering her, "doesn't the big camp- 
 meeting begin next week? and you are going?" 
 
 "Oh, yes we're going we always go, Hugh," 
 and Lindy swallowed the sobs. "Daddy and Aunt 
 Joan would like you to come up, Hugh. You can?" 
 
 "Yes I would like to come up." 
 
 "Sunday is likely to be a big day." 
 
 "Well then Sunday it is, Lindy," he cried, 
 cheerily. 
 
 The "bush-meetm'," the event of the year to the 
 mountaineer, is held in August or September 
 usually the latter and during the time of the full 
 moon. It continues for a week and is an occasion 
 looked forward to, planned for, and before which 
 all other events pale. It is widely attended; some 
 of its most regular frequenters arriving from far- 
 away points, having followed difficult, almost im- 
 passable pathways.
 
 122 LINDY LOYD 
 
 For weeks ahead, particularly in the case of the 
 younger women, fairly hopeless wardrobes have been 
 undergoing rejuvenation, faded adornments have 
 been freshened and, where circumstances would at all 
 allow, the few stray pence put by for a much prized 
 ribbon or bit of finery. 
 
 Outside of the infrequent and therefore highly 
 esteemed devotional opportunities afforded for the 
 mountaineer is by nature and from environment in- 
 clined to be religious this yearly gathering is a 
 time for the renewal of the ties of kinsfolk and ac- 
 quaintance in many cases the only available occa- 
 sion throughout the year ; while as for sweethearting 
 the inevitable concomitant of such a gathering, 
 the facilities offered are incomparable. 
 
 Mention has been made of the extreme isolation 
 possible to the mountaineer. In many of these iso- 
 lated cases, an occasional visit to the mountain store, 
 the mill, or a rare occurrence an attendance 
 upon a religious service, will constitute, generally 
 speaking, the sum total of contact with the outside 
 world. 
 
 This being the case, the annual recurrence of the 
 camp-meeting is hailed with delight. Collecting his 
 meager supply of necessaries, the mountaineer with 
 his entire family including of necessity his few 
 "cattle critters" will come gaily down from some 
 lonely, almost inaccessible spot and, as frequently 
 occurs, be the very first upon the ground.
 
 LINDY LOYD 123 
 
 The religious services were to be held in the old 
 camping-place, a charming, secluded valley or cove 
 some distance up the mountain. The site was a 
 level, grassy spot within a grove of oaks, with the 
 added advantage of a stream of never-failing water. 
 The camp-meeting, Providence and weather per- 
 mitting, was to open the following Wednesday 
 the campers, as a rule, preparing and provisioning 
 for a week's stay. 
 
 Accordingly, early on the appointed day, the 
 mountaineers began to gather upon the camping 
 ground. As the many families, conveyed in ve- 
 hicles of any and every description the same 
 generous latitude of expression applying with equal 
 force to the patient, worn beasts attached thereto 
 came creaking into camp, they were received with 
 shouts of welcome. Selecting a spot for their so- 
 journ, they unloaded their paraphernalia and were 
 soon at home. 
 
 Many came upon the backs of mule or bull. Gaily 
 accoutred with quilts and what not, with the few 
 household utensils dangling around them, the lean, 
 spiritless beasts were led meekly into camp to the 
 gay accompaniment of the jingling pots and pans. 
 Safely secured upon the top of all, were the younger 
 children the mother and the rest of the family 
 plodding wearily alongside. Others arrived upon 
 "shank's mare"; their simple necessities slung 
 around the neck. All were received with equal wel-
 
 124 LINDY LOYD 
 
 come, for the mountaineer is no "respecter of per- 
 sons." 
 
 It was a scene of merry and, apparently, hopeless 
 disorder; the younger members of the company, 
 household goods and domestic animals including 
 the tender progeny of horse and cow mingled in 
 wild confusion. Blending with the shouts of wel- 
 come and laughter, the voices of children and bark- 
 ing of dogs, rose, clear and insistent, the soft, admon- 
 itory low of the cow and the anxious call of the 
 mother-horse. 
 
 A few of the number occupied tents erected over 
 roughly built platforms which were used from year 
 to year. By far the greater number, however, were 
 housed under bare poles with a canopy of gaily 
 colored quilts, or some bright covering, stretched 
 overhead this nondescript protection adding 
 greatly to the generally picturesque effect. 
 
 Several of the wagons were supplied with canvas- 
 covered tops a provident arrangement in case of 
 bad weather and furnished with hay to be used 
 for sleeping purposes, if so desired. But what could 
 be more satisfying than a "shake-down" of fragrant 
 fir and hemlock boughs ; a pile of which had been 
 already stacked for use. 
 
 While the women were completing the simple home 
 arrangements, the men were preparing the place for 
 worship ; removing the accumulation of undergrowth 
 and debris, and, where necessary, restoring the
 
 LINDY LOYD 125 
 
 weather-worn benches rough planks fastened to 
 stakes driven into the ground. Others were collect- 
 ing quantities of pitch-pine for torches, or preparing 
 great piles of pine-knots, cones and other inflam- 
 mable material for bonfires. A huge stump, remnant 
 of some forest ruler, was utilized as a pulpit and 
 upon this a Bible was placed. Over this improvised 
 desk an arbor, or protection of boughs, was roughly 
 arranged ; this, with the inevitable pail and drinking- 
 gourd, completed the simple preparations. 
 
 It was a rarely beautiful spot, this forest Temple. 
 Through the arches overhead sifted the sunshine, 
 falling in golden bars across the mossy flooring. 
 Stealing through the aisles of century old pillars 
 floated the never ceasing music of Nature's choir: 
 the song of bird and bee, the laughter of leaves, 
 the ceaseless lament of the pines. Swelling, dimin- 
 ishing, the endless melody flowed on, while weaving 
 in and out, like a golden thread, ran the steady, 
 dominant tone of the brook. 
 
 But the shadows deepen ; tiny fires begin to sparkle 
 and the fragrance of the evening meal is carried on 
 the breeze. Presently the clear tones of a horn 
 summon the people together for a short opening ser- 
 vice led by some lay-brother, pending the arrival of 
 those in charge. Soon the watch-fires are lighted, 
 the tired campers seek repose and only the call of 
 some wandering night-bird, or the fretful lament of 
 some weary child is heard.
 
 126 LINDY LOYD 
 
 By the afternoon of the following day the com- 
 pany had for the most part assembled; and rein- 
 forced by the arrival of Brother Burruss and the 
 hoped-for Evangelist, the order of proceedings was 
 fully established and the camp-meeting could be con- 
 sidered as fully under way. 
 
 "Joan, be that young doctor feller yere on Lindy's 
 'count?" demanded Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "He ain't yere on Mitry's nor mine," was the 
 tart reply. 
 
 "Huh !" rejoined Mrs. Hicks, as she turned away. 
 
 This conversation occurred the following Sunday 
 and was the result of Hugh Humphrey's arrival in 
 camp and consequent attentions to Lindy. 
 
 The day had been beautiful, bringing many vis- 
 itors a number of whom were remaining for the 
 evening service. Viewed from the standpoint of the 
 mountaineer, the camp-meeting was succeeding in the 
 object for which it was intended; the services 
 were orderly and well attended, the interest con- 
 stantly increasing. 
 
 The afternoon meeting, just over, had been marked 
 with especial significance and many had "gone for- 
 ward," openly avowing their desire to lead a better 
 life. Among the number, to the sincere joy of the 
 zealous souls present, were several known "hard 
 cases." But there were others yet unreached, about 
 whom the interest especially centered and of these, 
 Si Etter was perhaps the most prominent.
 
 LINDY LOYD 127 
 
 While not openly a scoffer, Si was believed to be 
 perfectly indifferent to the matter of his soul's sal- 
 vation. Each successive camp-meeting, however, 
 found him upon the ground, willing, helpful, and a 
 regular attendant upon the services. But though 
 frequently approached upon the subject of religion, 
 Si remained, apparently, obdurate. 
 
 "He's a hard old nut that Si Etter," Joan had 
 remarked ; "Been talked at an prayed at, 'till I 
 clar for 't! I should think he'd be just clear plum' 
 'shamed of hisself not to get religion." 
 
 Stealing soft and sweet through the shadows 
 again sounded the call to prayer and from every 
 direction groups of people could be seen approach- 
 ing the appointed place. Presently a woman's voice 
 started the strains of a well-known hymn. Quickly 
 the familiar melody was caught up and passed along, 
 until the outermost edge of the in-coming throng 
 were joining in the song. 
 
 It was a beautiful, a wildly-picturesque scene. 
 The night had fallen gently, enveloping all in mys- 
 terious shadow. Like sentinels, grim and grey, up- 
 rose the mighty trees ; through the interlacing foliage 
 the stars shone softly; in the near distance, broad 
 bands of moonlight danced and sparkled upon the 
 water ; beyond, deep and black, fell the impenetrable 
 shadows. 
 
 Clear and distinct to the senses came the match- 
 less, the dewy fragrance of the mountain's breath
 
 128 LINDY LOYD 
 
 the pulsing heart of the forest, the song of the 
 katy-did, the happy gurgle of the brook, the frog's 
 chorus ; while over all, penetrating, dominating all, 
 lay the solemn silence of the hills. 
 
 The assemblage sat quiet, expectant, their serious, 
 upturned faces gleaming weirdly in the flickering 
 light of torch and bonfire. Groups of people, stand- 
 ing, sitting, reclining, were scattered here and there, 
 for the utmost latitude in regard to posture pre- 
 vailed. A few of the more enterprising had secured 
 vantage points upon some overhanging limb. Upon 
 the outer edge of the crowd, well within the shadows, 
 Hugh and Lindy* had found a place; not so far 
 away, leaning comfortably against a stump, were 
 Joan and Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 The meeting was opened with prayer, followed by 
 an old, familiar hymn; and as that great volume 
 of song arose in the refrain "By and by we'll go 
 home to meet them," it was thrilling in its abandon, 
 inspiring in its power. 
 
 "Brackie," chuckled the irrepressible Joan, "just 
 listen to Si Etter a-singin ! An I wonder which 
 wife he's a-thinkin 'bout meetin?" she went on, wick- 
 edly, her eyes upon the unconscious singer, "I clar 
 for 't he's a-standin up there with his head 
 throwed back an his eyes shut tight for all the 
 world, Brackie, as if he's a-seein one of 'em this yere 
 very " 
 
 "Joan!" gasped the scandalized Mrs. Hicks.
 
 LINDY LOYD 129 
 
 "Oh, shucks !" was the wilful response ; and having 
 succeeded in shocking Brackie, Joan subsided. 
 
 In the hush and anticipation that followed, a 
 hunter, his dog at heel, threaded his way noncha- 
 lantly through the throng, his feet falling noiselessly. 
 Upon his shoulder he carried an old-fashioned flint- 
 lock; his powder-horn and shot-pouch were slung 
 around his neck. Dropping quietly upon the grass, 
 he reached down within his leggins home-tanned 
 hide, secured with strong, brown twine and draw- 
 ing forth his bowie-knife began to whittle. 
 
 Presently the Evangelist arose and announced 
 his text. With plain utterance, emphasizing with 
 gesture and voice, he brought the truth home to his 
 hearers, sparing none. With keenness of perception 
 and direct attack he laid bare the failure, the indo- 
 lence, the secret sin of many a soul before him, pic- 
 turing with impassioned speech the sadness of a 
 wasted life, its utter hopelessness, both here and 
 hereafter; and as his voice sank to pleading, sobs 
 and tears arose. Personal applications of his dis- 
 course were not wanting and cries of "That's me, 
 Lord I war the one God have mercy " were 
 heard. Occasionally a hymn, lined-out by the 
 preacher was sung or a lay-brother would lead 
 in fervid petition, cries of "Lord send a witness 
 send the power " arising on every side. 
 
 "Oh oh laws-er-massy ! help help !" sud- 
 denly screamed Mrs. Hicks, and springing to her 
 feet she shrieked and gesticulated, wildly.
 
 130 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Good-land-er-Goshen ! Brack what's hit?" 
 shrilled the startled Joan ; and she laid a restraining 
 hand upon the distracted woman. 
 
 "Praise the Lord ! He's sent a witness He's 
 sent a witness " shouted a zealous soul near by ; 
 and another hymn was started. 
 
 ''Witness witness " Joan reiterated. Seizing 
 the perfectly demoralized Mrs. Hicks, Joan shook 
 her, soundly, as she demanded "Air yuh clear plum' 
 crazy, Brack? yuh got religion long and long " 
 
 But Mrs. Hicks was beyond reason. 
 
 "Brack Hicks if you-uns don't shut up 
 moughty quick, yuh'll have the preacher an all the 
 other 'ns right down yere onto us! yuh hear? 
 what's hit anyways ?" 
 
 "Hit war a snake, Joan a cold, slimy snake ! 
 an yuh knows how I hate snakes," moaned Mrs. 
 Hicks, feebly. "An 't war in my hand right yere 
 in my hand!" shuddering. 
 
 "A snake " and Joan scanned the ground, nar- 
 rowly, "hit must have dumb up into yer lap whilst 
 we-uns war a-settin there. Mought have knowed 
 better than to set plum up against a stump any- 
 ways," she added. 
 
 "I clar for 't, Joan," Brackie burst forth, petu- 
 lantly, "wouldn't yuh think that anybody that hates 
 snakes like I do, could manage to keep away from 
 'em wouldn't yuh now?" 
 
 "Aw well never mind, Brackie it's all over
 
 LINDY LOYD 131 
 
 now," soothed Joan as they moved farther within the 
 circle. But Brackie refused to reseat herself. 
 
 In the meantime, the interest and excitement of 
 the worshipers had increased. "Come to the altar 
 come now ! tomorrow may be too late " 
 pleaded the preacher continuing with dramatic 
 effect "the Angel of Death is mebbe a-creepin 
 an a-creepin an a-creepin clost to yuh 
 a-reachin out his cold, clammy fingers for yuh, right 
 now ! yes " with startling emphasis "right 
 now!" and a woman shrieked aloud. Another sank 
 to the ground in violent contortions. 
 
 Then followed a scene impossible to describe. The 
 space near the altar was filled with suppliants while 
 cries and groans arose on every side. In and out 
 among the distraught, kneeling throng passed the 
 lay-helpers, urging, exhorting, denouncing. 
 
 Hugh and Lindy had remained silent spectators of 
 the scene, Hugh's entire attitude one of protest. 
 
 "You do not like it, Hugh?" whispered the girl, 
 peering into his white, set face. 
 
 "It is horrible, Lindy horrible that!" indi- 
 cating the writhing figure upon the ground. "Ah, 
 come away, Lindy come away, now !" and Hugh 
 lifted the girl to her feet. "We will go outside 
 out into God's quiet," he said. 
 
 "Oh, Hugh wait a bit," pleaded the girl. 
 
 "Very well as you will, then. But this crazed, 
 shouting multitude does not suggest the religion of 
 Our Lord to me, Lindy not to me."
 
 132 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Ah, yes, Hugh but " 
 
 And Hugh yielded. 
 
 At this moment Brother Barruss arose and began 
 to pray; his magnetic, quiet tones, clothed in the 
 familiar homely expressions of everyday life, falling 
 like balm upon the disquieted, sobbing multitude. 
 Ah was he not one of them? Did not he, too, 
 know the loneliness, the temptation and bitterness, 
 the absolute hardness of their lives the utter 
 lack of any incentive to amendment ? "Lord, we 
 uns be Thy childern," he pleaded; "hongrey often, 
 bitter an desperate often; kem times whenst hit be 
 all blackness no light, no hope anywheres. We 
 have withstood Thee have turned away from Thee ; 
 we have follered the Devil so long, that now, he 
 will not let we-alls go. Lord!" he cried with sudden 
 fervor, "help the pore soul as is a-wantin to kem to 
 Thee an cannot ! help 'im ! help 'im now! oh, 
 Lord!" 
 
 He ceased. Upon the throbbing, expectant silence 
 fell the heart-wrung sigh of a soul in conflict ; and 
 Si Etter, his face white and tense, arose and joined 
 the kneeling throng.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE weeks passed and, in the meantime, the 
 mountains had taken on a new phase of 
 beauty. Swiftly, silently, the Spirit of 
 Autumn passed through the forest giving soft 
 touches here, a breath there and her brilliant 
 colors hung everywhere. 
 
 There came nights of heavy frost followed by days 
 of storm and the boughs shook down their fruitage ; 
 and the tiny wood-dwellers, laboring patiently, 
 steadily, added plenteously to the stores put by for 
 the long period of seclusion before them. 
 
 Many a delightful tramp had Hugh and Lindy 
 shared, returning with numerous trophies. Lindy 
 was a delightful companion. Fearless, sure of foot, 
 she trod the mountain ways and together they scaled 
 rocky points and penetrated into the hidden places. 
 Upon one memorable occasion clinging like goats 
 to their uncertain foothold they gaily followed 
 the course of the mountain stream as it vanished 
 under great, overhanging cliffs, swept down over the 
 rocks and wound on through deep, gloomy caverns 
 emerging, with it, into the clear sunshine again. 
 
 To-day, the two were returning from a nutting 
 ISS
 
 134 LINDY LOYD 
 
 expedition, following a trail that led through the 
 lumber-camp; Hugh, with a bag of nuts slung 
 over his shoulder Lindy, laden with spoils of va- 
 rious sorts. 
 
 The forest was wonderful in its blaze of coloring, 
 its endless variety of hue. Great, lichen-covered 
 rocks, at whose feet trailed brilliantly tinted vines, 
 rose everywhere. Along the road, everywhere, grew 
 the asters purple, yellow and white; starry-eyed 
 daisies nodding at their feet. Great clumps of 
 mountain-laurel and holly, the latter with its glossy 
 green leaves and promise of berries, stood on every 
 side. In the distance glowed the rich blood-red of 
 the sumach. Scattered along the trail were the red 
 hips of the eglantine and the yellow fruit of the wild 
 nettle. Yonder, a cluster of golden-rod tossed its 
 yellow plumes; near by rose the tall milk-weed, its 
 slender pods bursting with silky fruit. Nearer earth, 
 multitudinous "low-bush" huckleberries glowed in 
 fervid tints. Directly underfoot, peeping through 
 the mosses, could be seen the vivid green of the 
 running-cedar, the rich, russet-brown of the galax 
 and the shining arbutus leaves ; while clinging closer 
 to earth, if one knew where to look, could be found 
 the delicate mitchella with its ruddy fruit, the win- 
 tergreen and the snow-berry. 
 
 "Not many more times, now, Hugh," said Lindy, 
 sadly, as they came slowly up the trail to the old 
 camp.
 
 LINDY LOYD 135 
 
 "No not many more," Hugh agreed, briefly. 
 
 "I shall always love this place and the old 
 pine " and Lindy laid her soft cheek caressingly 
 against the rough bark "when you are when 
 you are away, Hugh, I shall come here often, and 
 often. But you you will not hear me when 
 when I give the whippoorwill's call. Oh, Hugh !" and 
 Lindy hid her face on Hugh's breast. 
 
 "Don't, Lindy don't !" Hugh commanded, pas- 
 sionately, folding the girl closely to him. "Listen !" 
 he softly pleaded, "there is no other way is there? 
 looking towards the best interests of our future?" 
 
 "No there is no other way," Lindy replied. 
 And the two were silent, each endeavoring to face the 
 empty days that stretched before them. 
 
 "How much time have we now Hugh?" Lindy 
 inquired, presently. 
 
 "Two weeks perhaps maybe less. I should 
 hear, soon, from my college in regard to the propo- 
 sition for next year. When I hear, Lindy I must 
 not delay." 
 
 "No " and again silence fell. 
 
 "It has been such a dear summer, Hugh," Lindy 
 began, "I I am afraid to have it end." 
 
 "When you are my wife " 
 
 "When I am your wife!" reiterated the girl, pas- 
 sionately, "Ah but that's just it just it, 
 Hugh !" and Lindy flung her arms around him, lift- 
 ing panic-stricken eyes. "Oh I am afraid, / 
 am afraid, Hugh !" she sobbed.
 
 136 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Afraid Lindy ? of what ?" 
 
 "Oh I do not know I cannot put it into 
 words but I am afraid to have you go Hugh. 
 I I have such a horrible fear as if some ter- 
 rible thing were hanging over us something that 
 will certainly come between us and our love ! Could 
 anything come between us, Hugh could anything?" 
 and Lindy clung desperately to him. 
 
 "No, Lindy nothing could come between us 
 nothing!" Hugh solemnly affirmed, his arms close 
 about the trembling girl, his eyes gazing straight 
 into hers. 
 
 But Lindy hid her face, shuddering. 
 
 "It is not like you, Lindy to be afraid," Hugh 
 urged, presently. 
 
 "No and I will not be ! I will be good, Hugh 
 7 will you shall see !" Lindy cried, gaily, dashing 
 away the tears. "The time will pass and and 
 by and by will come the anniversary and you will be 
 here Hugh right here! think of it! won't 
 I give the call good and strong, then Hugh? Lis- 
 ten! just like this": And the girl's voice rang out 
 clear and lifelike in the whippoorwill's call. "Will 
 you come, Hugh?" and Lindy's arms were about his 
 neck, her lips to his. 
 
 "I will come, Lindy if I have life in my body, 
 I -will come" Hugh reiterated, solemnly.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE hunter considers the wild turkey to be one 
 of the most cunning of the forest creatures. 
 Its keenness of sight, hearing and even of 
 scent if one may accept the hunter's version is 
 marvellous. United with these characteristics, a 
 swiftness of wing, an incredible rapidity of foot and 
 an exceeding wariness, make the bagging of wild 
 turkey an achievement. 
 
 Lindy frequently accompanied her father upon 
 his hunting expeditions and the two had started at 
 day-break for wild turkey. Clad in her hunting- 
 garb : trousers, coat, leggins and cap, the girl looked 
 not unlike a handsome, slender boy stepping lightly 
 along at Mitry's side ; and his pride in her and in her 
 hunting exploits was great. 
 
 Meanwhile, seated in Mrs. Hicks' cabin, Joan and 
 Brackie were adding stitches innumerable to a 
 "Weepm'-willer" quilt. 
 
 "Brackie, where'd you-uns been yesterday, whenst 
 yuh kem by ?" Joan demanded. 
 
 Mrs. Hicks, engaged in the useless attempt to 
 sharpen her thread with toothless gums, did not im- 
 mediately reply. Presently she began, haltingly: 
 
 137
 
 138 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "I'd bin over been over to Miz Rogan's to borry 
 
 to borry to borry this yere blame thread!" she 
 concluded, tempestuously, flinging down her needle; 
 and she began to search here and there about the 
 room. 
 
 Joan sniffed, eloquently. "Have yuh lost 'em 
 again?" she drawled. 
 
 Mrs. Hicks made no reply. 
 
 "Mebbe, now, you've left 'em over to Miz Rogan's 
 
 once more" suggested her tormenter, sweetly. 
 "Mebbe I have an mebbe I haven't," snapped 
 
 Brackie, peering into likely and unlikely places. 
 "Huh! yere yuh be eh?" she apostrophized, sud- 
 denly, as she overturned a pile of carpet-rags; and 
 clapping the missing requisites into her mouth, Mrs. 
 Hicks settled contentedly back to her quilting. 
 
 "Spose you-alls folkses got off on the turkey- 
 hunt, Joan?" 
 
 "Yep off before sun-up ; be gone 'till dark 
 night, most likely if 't ain't more than that," 
 Joan added. 
 
 "Hope Lindy, she won't get hurted, none," Mrs. 
 Hicks admonished. 
 
 Joan made no response. 
 
 "Them wild turkeys, they's bodaciously good 
 eatin' now with the nuts all down," Mrs. Hicks 
 went on. "Miz Rogan, she war a-tellin that Sim, he'd 
 bin up on the mountain an had brung hum two of 
 'em. Seems he'd yelped 'em up."
 
 LINDY LOYD 139 
 
 "Well," replied Joan, "Mitry Loyd, he is queer 
 that aways an Lindy, she's no better 'bout 't, 
 nuther. Mitry, he sez the wild turkey is a noble bird ; 
 an if so be he can't take 'im fair and square, he won't 
 take 'im at all. No yelpin 'im up, nor a-baitin of 
 'im, nor a-shootin 'im on the roost for 'im sez 
 Mitry Loyd." 
 
 "Everybody to their likin's," was the retort. 
 
 "Brackie, what did Miz Rogan have to say, yes- 
 terday?" Joan went on. 
 
 "Not much of anything. Said she'd been up to 
 the Sykes's, just the yuther day. Pears like Miz 
 Sykes, she war a-spectin Softy out the jail-house 
 kem the next mornin." 
 
 "An then for some more drinkin's and fightin's, 
 yep and killins, too, just like's not. Softy Sykes, 
 he air a bad feller, Brackie." 
 
 "Mebbe, now, Softy ain't so bad, Joan." 
 
 "How 'bout that man as war killed yep, killed, 
 in that fight at Leary's not so long ago, Brackie?" 
 
 "Hass, he said that nobody know'd who 't wuz as 
 killed that feller, Joan." 
 
 "Well spose Hass, he war 'bliged to know," 
 significantly. 
 
 "A-meanin' " 
 
 "Wan't Hass there, Brackie?" 
 
 "Yep he war there " reluctantly. 
 
 "Well " and silence fell. 
 
 Hass, meanwhile, recovered from his encounter
 
 140 LINDY LOYD 
 
 with the revenue officer, brooded in the "jail-house." 
 During the first days of his arrival, lying upon his 
 pallet, he had overheard bits of conversation relating 
 to the matter of his arrest stray fragments in 
 which the name of Mitry Loyd occasionally figured. 
 As he grew stronger, aided by his hatred of Mitry 
 and by his own black imaginings, he had pieced to- 
 gether, had so turned and twisted these fragments, 
 until, in the face of all reason, he became firmly con- 
 vinced that Mitry had "turned revenoor" and was, 
 therefore, the direct cause of his imprisonment. This 
 belief but added to his hate; and when Hass finally 
 left jail, it was with a fixed determination to "get 
 even" with Mitry Loyd. 
 
 Through his crony, Hite Cronce, Hass had been 
 able to obtain information upon other and vital 
 matters of interest occurring at home particu- 
 larly, in regard to the progress of Hugh Humph- 
 rey's infatuation for Lindy; information, how- 
 ever, which added greatly to his discomfort, as evi- 
 denced by his explosions of rage during Kite's re- 
 cital. "An Hass," said Hite, significantly, as he 
 concluded his narration, "I callate you-uns have some 
 work laid out before yuh whenst you-uns gets 
 out." 
 
 "An I just nacherly callates to get 't done," mut- 
 tered Hass, grimly. 
 
 Recently there had arrived at the jail from the 
 neighborhood of Hass's home a worthless, shift-
 
 LINDY LOYD 141 
 
 less fellow, Softy Sykes by name, sent up for partici- 
 pation in a drunken brawl. As was perhaps inev- 
 itable, the two immediately fraternized. 
 
 Softy Sykes, as his name may indicate, was not a 
 born leader of men; rather was he a follower. Nev- 
 ertheless, he possessed sufficient wit to enable him to 
 turn the ordinary course of human affairs to his own 
 ends ; and it was not long before he discovered 
 Hass's attitude towards Mitry Loyd. 
 
 So it was Mitry who had "turned revenoor?" pon- 
 dered Softy. Very well then Softy, too, had a 
 grudge against the man. Was not his own still 
 among the number raided upon the day following 
 Hass's disastrous encounter? Was not the very 
 finest of whiskey simply stolen from him and the 
 labor of days reduced to nought? And if Mitry 
 Loyd was concerned in Hass's misfortune, why not 
 in mine, reasoned Softy. 
 
 "Hass," he submitted, "I'd like moughty well to 
 get even with Mitry Loyd." 
 
 "Yer would?" Hass replied; and the two plot- 
 ted revenge.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 MISS LUCIE SIMMONS and Hugh Humph- 
 rey were out upon the mountains. They 
 had topped the rise and halted, spell-bound, 
 at the wonder of mountain, valley and stream. Peak 
 beyond peak rose the mountains, now wrapped in 
 blackest shadow, anon, flaming in splendid hues. Be- 
 tween, were glimpses of hidden coves, alluring in 
 sombreness. Directly below them stretched the val- 
 ley; through its fields of autumn verdure bubbled 
 and gleamed the mountain stream. 
 
 It was a golden day following a night of storm, 
 with the air clear and exhilarating; and as the 
 wheels sank softly into the forest mould, the delight- 
 ful freshness of moist earth and dying leaves, the 
 indescribable odor of the woods arose. 
 
 The atmosphere, purified by the recent storm, 
 possessed that wonderful effect of clearness, which 
 takes no note of distance. Fascinated, they lingered, 
 and clear and distinct to the ear came the sweet, 
 mellow tone of a far-away bell, the sound of the 
 wood-chopper's axe and the soft thud of falling 
 nuts. 
 
 "But it is wonderful wonderful all of it ! I 
 shall never forget it !" breathed Miss Lucie.
 
 LINDY LOYD 143 
 
 Presently they passed a wide-spreading chestnut- 
 tree, its burs bursting with fruitage. The ground 
 beneath was covered with an alluring quantity of 
 nuts and Hugh turned to Miss Lucie in mute query. 
 
 "Oh, yes yes " was the eager response, add- 
 ing, wistfully "if I could only help gather " 
 
 "Yo* can, honey chile yo' can " cried the 
 faithful Mammy Lu; and Miss Lucie was soon set- 
 tled in a sunny, dry spot beneath the tree. 
 
 "Dem nuts up dar, dey is des a-honin' to come 
 down, Mistah Hugh," insinuated Mammy. 
 
 "That's so," agreed Hugh "shall I Miss 
 Lucie?" and she nodded a happy acquiescence. Soon 
 the nuts came pelting down. 
 
 "Here Miss Lucie here are all the colors of 
 the dying foliage catch !" and Hugh tossed a 
 splendid bur, filled with fruit, into Miss Lucie's lap. 
 
 It was an exquisite bit. The golden, velvet-lined 
 cup, tipped with creamiest yellow, had flung wide 
 its sheltering walls and nestling deep within, clothed 
 in silvery, reddish brown, lay the nuts. Outside, was 
 the dark, fibrous covering, protected by the yellow 
 spines, deepened to somber brown at the roots. It 
 was a poem a story; in its coloring, a perfect 
 reproduction of its forest home. 
 
 "When are you coming down?" cried Miss Lucie. 
 
 "I am coming now," and stepping lightly from 
 limb to limb, Hugh rapidly descended the tree. Sud- 
 denly an ominous creaking was heard.
 
 144 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Oh be careful Hugh be careful!" 
 shrieked Miss Lucie and with a sickening wrench 
 the limb fell to the ground. 
 
 As Hugh sprang for a safer foothold, his head 
 came into violent contact with the body of the tree. 
 Dazed, uncertain, he slipped, clutched ineffectually 
 for a hold then dropped below. 
 
 "Hugh Hugh! Mammy oh, Mammy!" 
 screamed Miss Lucie, frantically; and with the 
 strength of despair she dragged her maimed body 
 towards the unconscious man. 
 
 "He am' daid, Baby Mistah Hugh am' daid " 
 comforted Mammy, her ear against Hugh's heart, 
 "it am only stun. What dat watah I hears a-run- 
 nin whar?" and Mammy glanced searchingly 
 about. 
 
 "Quick Mammy quick! lay his head here 
 here in my lap so ! Now run, Mammy run for 
 the water! hurry oh, hurry Mammy !" But 
 Mammy needed no second bidding. 
 
 "He will die he will die " moaned Miss Lucie, 
 her eyes upon the white face. "Oh Hugh, my 
 darling my darling " and her arms closed 
 tightly about him. 
 
 "Sweetheart sweetheart " Hugh muttered, 
 dully; and the unseeing eyes opened and closed, 
 wearily. Over the face of the girl bending above 
 him, swept a light, ineffable. 
 
 At this instant Mammy returned. Placing Hugh
 
 LINDY LOYD 145 
 
 flat upon the ground she applied the cold spring 
 water. "He heaps bettah Missy -7 am nawthin 
 de mattah wid Mistah Hugh but des stun," she re- 
 iterated, presently; and in a short time full con- 
 sciousness returned and soon Hugh declared himself 
 ready to start down the mountain. 
 
 "Lil Missy," murmured Mammy Lu, as she set- 
 tled the weary girl back into the carriage, "yo-all's 
 eyes dey look lak dey look lak yo'd seen er 
 Angel." 
 
 "Maybe I have, Mammy," was the whispered 
 reply. 
 
 And that night, during the intervals of sleep, Miss 
 Lucie's voice could be heard in restless dreaming. 
 Bending over the unquiet sleeper one might distin- 
 guish, in happy murmurings : "Sweetheart sweet- 
 heart sweetheart " 
 
 "Hope 'fore de Lawd dat dis yere 'citement won* 
 kill my honey chile," came sleepily from the dusky 
 watcher beside the bed. 
 
 And Hugh Humphrey tossing in broken slum- 
 ber : "I wonder I wonder now I would 
 have sworn that Lindy was there. Strange Lindy, 
 oh, Lindy " and he dozed off again. 
 
 Late the following afternoon, Hugh, his hands 
 filled with time-tables, tags and various et cetera in- 
 cident to travelling, entered Miss Lucie's sitting- 
 room. Crossing over to the fireplace he stationed 
 himself upon the rug to await her coming.
 
 146 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Time passed. The room lay in shadow and 
 peace, the only light the soft glow from the fire. 
 Soothed by his surroundings, Hugh fell a-dreaming, 
 his thoughts reverting to the dominant passion of 
 his life: to Lindy, his sweet wood-flower. Drawing 
 her pictured face from his breast he bent over it, 
 absorbed. "Sweetheart ah sweetheart " he 
 murmured. 
 
 "You like the picture, Hugh?" came a soft voice; 
 and Miss Lucie, her face glorified, her hands held 
 out in timid appeal, came towards him. 
 
 Startled, Hugh thrust the picture back within its 
 hiding-place and seized the out-stretched hands. 
 "Aw aw sit here Miss Lucie aw yes 
 sit right here," he stammered. Leading her to a 
 chair he seated her, comfortably. 
 
 "I hoped you would care for the picture, Hugh," 
 Miss Lucie went on, "I I put it there on the 
 mantel to-day," she added, blushing happily. 
 
 Hugh, stared, bewildered. 
 
 "Listen, Hugh," she went on, her eyes downcast, 
 "I I have something to say and and I do not 
 know how to say it how to go on ." Suddenly 
 Miss Lucie sat bolt upright. "I will say it Hugh 
 yes, / will! why not? Hugh?" and turning 
 away her blushing face she stammered : "Will will 
 you marry me Hugh ah could you?" And 
 before the astounded man could grasp the situation 
 Miss Lucie went on, pleadingly : "I know that I am
 
 LINDY LOYD 147 
 
 miserable I am ill and I am maimed ; but 
 but I love you Hugh " she concluded, simply. 
 
 Speechless, overwhelmed, Hugh stood before Miss 
 Lucie, his staring eyes fixed upon her, her amazing 
 communication beating against his brain. 
 
 Again the soft, halting utterance "We could go 
 abroad, Hugh you could study. There there 
 is plenty of money. It would be yours, eventually 
 
 and oh, Hugh I need you so / need you 
 so " Placing her hand upon his arm, her face 
 uplifted, Miss Lucie added, softly "and it it 
 would not be for long Hugh? " 
 
 "Miss Lucie my dear Miss Lucie," gasped 
 Hugh, as he struggled to rally his utterly routed 
 forces, "I I am engaged I am engaged to marry 
 another. Did you not know it Miss Lucie?" 
 
 Slowly Miss Lucie rose and leaned, white and 
 trembling, against the chair. "Did did you say 
 that you were engaged to marry to marry another 
 
 Hugh?" she said, her utterance indistinct and 
 lifeless. 
 
 "Yes " 
 
 Miss Lucie swayed, slightly. 
 
 "Ah dear Miss Lucie ! let me help you 
 let me!" and Hugh sprang forward, all his splendid 
 manhood aroused by the severe demands of the occa- 
 sion ; by the desire to assist to shield, if possible, 
 the sweet soul before him. 
 
 But Miss Lucie refused Hugh's proffered assist-
 
 148 LINDY LOYD 
 
 ance. "No oh, no wait I am not going to 
 faint," she whispered, wanly, clinging desperately to 
 her support. 
 
 Hugh stood miserably before her. 
 
 Presently she regained control. "But but the 
 picture you I saw " 
 
 "Was Lindy's picture. The girl I am to marry. 
 Ah Miss Lucie " he burst forth "If I have 
 added another burden to your already difficult life 
 Ah what can I do ? Can you forgive me " 
 
 "There is nothing to forgive, Hugh, nothing. It 
 was all a mistake a most miserable mistake of 
 mine of mine, Hugh," emphatically. "I I 
 think I will go now Hugh," she added, wearily. 
 "You will have to help me " turning to him. 
 
 Hugh's strong clasp closed firmly over the trem- 
 bling hand and he guided Miss Lucie across the room 
 with even more than his usual care and deference. 
 
 "Hugh " as she reached the door and Miss 
 Lucie's voice was but a faint whisper : "if if 
 you find you can come ever " and she passed 
 from his sight. 
 
 "Ye gods ye gods!" demanded Hugh a few 
 moments later, his face upturned to the quiet sky.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 HASS returned from jail, his standing in the 
 community in no smallest degree affected 
 by his incarceration. 
 
 As has been intimated, any suggestion of disgrace 
 in connection with an arrest for illegal distilling ap- 
 peals not at all to the mountaineer. Secure in his 
 belief in his God-given right to moonshine to 
 wrest from his rocky, unproductive soil whatever of 
 maintenance may be possible he proceeds serenely 
 on his way, counting his liability for arrest but a 
 misfortune common to all to be avoided if prac- 
 ticable, otherwise, to be stolidly endured. From 
 his point of view, such an happening under no 
 circumstances whatsoever could for one moment 
 be compared with the calamity, the lasting ignominy 
 of being sent to the "po'-house." 
 
 Mass's confinement did not lead to any betterment 
 of his naturally evil disposition. His long brooding 
 over wrongs real and fancied together with his 
 unwholesome association with Softy Sykes, could but 
 be productive of evil and he left the jail with two 
 resolves clear and distinct in his mind: to get even 
 with Mitry Loyd and to marry Lindy. As for Hugh 
 
 149
 
 150 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Humphrey "Let 'im look to hisself damn 'im !" 
 muttered Hass. 
 
 Going down the trail one afternoon, shortly after 
 his return from jail, Hass heard voices approaching. 
 Not being particularly burdened with fineness of 
 principle, and rendered doubly suspicious at the 
 present time, Hass secreted himself to await what 
 might occur. Presently Hugh Humphrey and Lindy, 
 entirely oblivious of all but the delight of the present 
 moment, came strolling up the trail, hand in hand. 
 
 To the miserable man, consumed by the hopeless- 
 ness of his unrequited love, this spectacle but added 
 fuel to the flame. Only by a strong effort, aided by 
 a grim renewal of his vow of unsparing retribution 
 upon Hugh, was Hass able to control his bitter, 
 black passion and to remain quietly in hiding. De- 
 termining that he would seek Lindy without delay 
 and at all hazards by hook or by crook wring 
 from her a promise to marry him, Hass watched 
 the two from sight. 
 
 In accordance with his determination, Hass 
 watched his opportunity and the following day, as 
 Lindy again came up the trail, he suddenly planted 
 himself before her. 
 
 "Oh howdy, Hass," cried the girl, brought so 
 unexpectedly to a stand-still. Recognizing the indi- 
 cations of a possible outbreak, Lindy waited in dig- 
 nified silence. 
 
 But Hass, vanquished anew by the girl's beauty
 
 LINDY LOYD 151 
 
 and his passion, stood speechless, devouring her. And 
 truly Lindy was most desirable to look upon : her 
 youthful face in its sweet purity, the frank, open 
 gaze, the soft, rosy cheeks and mouth where dimples 
 lay hidden, the curling hair blown into bewitching 
 disorder, presented a most alluring picture; and 
 Hass could but succumb. 
 
 "You-uns be so blame purty, Lindy," he burst 
 forth and without delay plunged immediately into 
 the matter in hand: "What's hit?" he demanded, 
 suspiciously, reading the aversion in her eyes. 
 
 Lindy made no reply. 
 
 "Yuh didn't use to be this a-ways, Lindy," scan- 
 ning her face. 
 
 But Lindy continued silent. 
 
 "Lindy leetle Lindy " he burst forth, des- 
 perately, "I always a-spected to be jined to yuh 
 there never war anybody else. An I can make you- 
 uns happy, Lindy. Hit won't be so bad after yuh 
 get used to me," he pleaded. "Lindy be jined to 
 me! to me Lindy oh, Lindy " he implored. 
 
 "Hass," replied Lindy, gently, impressed by the 
 intensity, the utter hopelessness of his passion, "why 
 oh, why do you I told you I would not marry 
 you ; besides, I I am promised to " 
 
 "Then hit be 'im eh? that sneakin, low-down 
 doctor feller ! the one I see yuh with yesterday 
 Lindy !" cried Hass, white with rage. Drawing near 
 to the girl he thrust his face into hers every
 
 152 LINDY LOYD 
 
 word hissed through set teeth "Look at me, 
 Lindy look at me an listen hard! You-uns goi- 
 ter be jined to me! yuh hear, Lindy?" he 
 shouted, "jined to me!" 
 
 And Lindy, withdrawing herself from his insolent 
 proximity, fixed her fearless gaze upon his and 
 answered, deliberately, unflinchingly: "Hass Hicks, 
 I will never marry you ! never never! I loathe you 
 loathe you!" With her head defiantly uplifted, 
 Lindy marched on up the trail. 
 
 Hass stood rooted to the spot his eyes glued upon 
 the dauntless little figure vanishing up the mountain. 
 "The purty leetle devil !" he exploded. With a mut- 
 tered curse, he stumbled on down the trail. 
 
 As has been intimated, Hass had greatly degen- 
 erated, having indulged his evil propensities until he 
 had become rather a marked man in the community. 
 Upon one or two rather notorious occasions he had 
 barely escaped arrest ; and the eyes of the law were 
 upon him. 
 
 Although Hass's partnership with Mitry in the 
 smaller still had long since been dissolved, he yet 
 retained his connection with the larger, which had 
 continued in uninterrupted operation throughout the 
 season, now closing. Since his return to the "lor- 
 rels," however, his generally inebriated condition and 
 persistent manifestation of ill-temper had increased 
 the feeling against him to such an extent that but a 
 spark was necessary to cause a conflagration and 
 oust him altogether from the business.
 
 LINDY LOYD 153 
 
 The night following his unsatisfactory interview 
 with Lindy, angry, desperate, filled with bitterness 
 towards all mankind, Hass stole into the cave to 
 find Mitry Loyd the only occupant. 
 
 For a while the two men pursued their work in 
 silence, each resentful of the other's presence. But 
 evil was in the air and Hass was ripe for mischief. 
 This being the situation, it was not long before suffi- 
 cient occasion arose. 
 
 "Keep out of my way damn yuh !" exploded 
 Hass, coming into contact with the pails of mash in 
 Mitry's hands. 
 
 And relinquishing the pails Mitry grimly re- 
 marked: "Reckon I just nacherly gotter lick yuh, 
 Hass been a-waitin for a chanct this yere long 
 whiles. Kem on now " With a rush the two 
 men closed and the long-delayed, inevitable fight 
 was on. 
 
 To and fro in portentous silence swung the con- 
 testants, the labored panting breath or an occa- 
 sional scrape of the foot the only sounds. Wary, 
 each watchful for a moment's weakness, a possible 
 opportunity to floor his antagonist, the two circled 
 lightly around the cave. 
 
 Hass, bent upon evil, fought with the strength 
 of fury, reckless of result. Mitry, however, wiry, 
 muscular, free from the deteriorating effect of intem- 
 perance and excess, proved to be a difficult oppo- 
 nent, and the issue remained undecided.
 
 154 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Keenly on the alert for probable trickery, 
 Mitry was in a measure prepared for the perfidious 
 move attempted by Hass. Enraged at the treachery 
 of the act, Mitry suddenly thrust out his foot and 
 Hass was flung squarely upon his back. 
 
 Infuriated, Hass sprang dizzily to his feet, 
 weapon in hand. 
 
 "Drop that!" shouted Mitry. Springing for- 
 ward he struck at the gun which flew to the farther 
 side of the cave. "The blarsted hound couldn't 
 even fight fair !" he panted. 
 
 Hass glared, speechlessly, around. 
 
 "That's 'nough now Hass yuh can light 
 right out'a yere an the quicker, the better," 
 drawled the one partner 
 
 "An yuh can keep out too," acquiesced the 
 other both of whom had entered the cave, mean- 
 while, and had continued appreciative witnesses of 
 the conflict. Having delivered themselves of this 
 ultimatum they quietly proceeded with the business of 
 the evening. 
 
 Baffled, humiliated, furious, Hass slunk from the 
 cave and stumbled off down the mountain. 
 
 As was to be expected upon their release from 
 jail Hass and Softy, possessing similar inclina- 
 tions, nursing a common revenge, had soon drifted 
 together again their rendezvous, Softy's old still. 
 
 Owing to Hass's knowledge of Softy's past es- 
 pecially of one dark page in his history, particulars
 
 LINDY LOYD 155 
 
 of which Hass had wrung from him while in jail, 
 he possessed a strong hold over the weaker man and 
 could compel his obedience when necessary. 
 
 And that night in the silence and secrecy of the 
 old still, bitter, raging, consumed with hatred of 
 Mitry Loyd, Hass perfected his wicked machina- 
 tions in regard to him Softy, as the tool, agree- 
 ing to certain action on his part and only awaited 
 opportunity to put his plans into effect.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 A DAY or two after the incident at the "lorrels," 
 Lindy was hurrying home in the late after- 
 noon. She had been delayed, and, as fre- 
 quently occurred in like circumstances, had left the 
 trail and chosen a more direct route which would 
 intersect the path later on. Passing lightly along, 
 she crossed a tiny stream and skirting a pile of rocks 
 turned directly up the mountain. 
 
 Suddenly the girl paused as if stricken to stone, 
 her attitude one of extreme attention. 
 
 "I certainly heard some one talking," she mur- 
 mured, glancing in every direction. "Yes there 
 it is again and it is Hass ! oh where is he?" and 
 apprehensive of another unpleasant interview, Lindy 
 crouched closely against the pile of rocks. 
 
 "Why why I wonder " and the girl's face 
 was illumined "this must be Softy's old still." 
 
 "Yes and that is Hass," she went on, presently, 
 as the voices rose again in controversy. "Why 
 they are talking of Daddy!" and Lindy placed her 
 ear close against the rock. "Oh oh " with 
 whitening face the girl sprang wildly to her feet. 
 
 "But I must hear I must!" she murmured, fran- 
 156
 
 LINDY LOYD 157 
 
 tically ; and stepping back, Lindy's experienced eyes 
 scanned the surface of the rock. 
 
 Was that ah, yes, it was a tiny fissure near 
 the top. Quickly ascending the rock, Lindy gazed 
 cautiously through the narrow opening. It was as 
 she feared. Hass and Softy were engaged in angry 
 altercation within the cave, their voices rising clear 
 and distinct to the ear of the horrified girl. 
 
 "What air yuh a-waitin for? damn yuh!" 
 shouted Hass; and raising his arm he felled Softy 
 to the earth. "I have a great mind to kill yuh, 
 Softy," bending over the prostrate man," an I will 
 if yuh don't hurry up now an get 't done." 
 
 Softy made no reply, but the look he secretly gave 
 Hass, as he arose from the ground, was not good 
 to see. 
 
 "That blame skunk ; he's a-goin up to the "lorrels" 
 again tonight an yuh can get 'im ez he's a-kemin 
 down! d'yuh hear, Softy? get Mitry ez he's 
 a-kemin down! tonight!" Hass reiterated 
 with emphasis. "An that damn city feller yuh 
 can leave 'im to me," he went on, his hand stealing 
 to his hip-pocket, an evil fire glowing in his eyes, 
 "an hit'll be the first chanct I gets the first chanct! 
 to-night, mebbe," he added, grimly. 
 
 "Oh, Daddy Daddy Hugh " panted the 
 terror-stricken girl, "Oh I must get home before 
 Daddy starts for the "lorrels"; and Lindy fled up 
 the mountain.
 
 158 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Lindy Lindj oh, Lindy?" and Mrs. Hicks 
 suddenly appeared upon the trail. "Lindy," she 
 went on, "the Kanes' babby, hit have took a fit 
 again, an yer Aunt Joan, she " 
 
 "Yes yes oh, be quick ! what is it?" demanded 
 Lindy, consumed with desire to proceed. 
 
 But Mrs. Hicks, so summarily dealt with, stared 
 speechless, at the girl. "Be you-uns clear plum' 
 crazy, Lindy?" she admonished, severely. 
 
 But Lindy was already on her way. 
 
 "An yer aunt, she told me to tell yuh," Mrs. Hicks 
 hurried on, her voice a constantly increasing cres- 
 cendo, "that she war likely to stay at the Kanes' all 
 night an I wuz to kem over if so be yuh war a-goin 
 to be lonesome. Shall I kem-m-m-m?" her recital 
 ending in a shriek. 
 
 "Oh, no! don't come don't!" Lindy shouted 
 back ; and she vanished up the mountain. 
 
 "Well I never ! / never!" snorted the in- 
 dignant Mrs. Hicks, gazing after the flying girl. 
 "Don't know what's a-gettin into folkses these yere 
 days. Now what d'yuh spose Laws-a-massy ! 
 but hit do beat all how short the days air a-gettin," 
 and she hurried on her way. 
 
 "Daddy oh, Daddy " called Lindy, as she 
 dropped, white and exhausted upon the door-step. 
 But there was no response. 
 
 "The mash-pails ! maybe " she exclaimed with 
 renewed hope. But they, too, were gone. Realizing
 
 LINDY LOYD 159 
 
 that her father had started up the mountain and 
 that upon herself devolved the duty of warning him, 
 Lindy turned again towards the trail. 
 
 But she could not warn both Hugh and Daddy. 
 There was not sufficient time. Oh what should 
 she do ? what ought she to do ? If only Aunt 
 Joan or somebody were here to share the awful 
 burden to tell her how to proceed. But there 
 was no one no one and time was passing it 
 had already grown dark soon it would be night ; 
 and recalling Hass's utterance and the bitter ma- 
 lignity of his face, Lindy grew frantic with appre- 
 hension. 
 
 Plainly, the entire responsibility was upon the 
 girl's shoulders. As this realization forced itself 
 upon her, Lindy rallied her distraught forces and 
 tried to grapple with the situation. Closing her 
 eyes she stood for a moment tense, every faculty 
 bent upon wresting a path through the cruel laby- 
 rinth of circumstances in which she was entangled. 
 
 "I'll do it yes, I will there is no other way!" 
 she cried, presently. "I'll go back there and I'll 
 plead with Hass ! perhaps he will but oh 
 I must hurry !" 
 
 With a vague idea of protection in the darkness, 
 Lindy donned her hunting-suit, pulling her cap 
 closely down about her face. Placing her revolver 
 within her bosom, the girl went forth into the night. 
 
 It was now quite dark upon the mountain and the
 
 160 LINDY LOYD 
 
 trail was barely perceptible. But Lindy knew her 
 mountains and stepped fearlessly along. How still it 
 was. How mysterious the forest. How the trees 
 whispered and moaned, reaching out long arms in 
 ghostly touches as she passed. But already the 
 moon was heralding the glory of her appearing and 
 behind the top of a distant peak lay a glow like the 
 heart of a fire. Leaving the trail Lindy entered 
 again upon the course she had so recently traversed 
 and proceeding directly down the mountain soon 
 reached the old still. 
 
 "Dear God if I should be too late Softy 
 may already be on his way up the mountain " she 
 breathed, her pulses riotous with apprehension. 
 
 Now Lindy was well aware that she was doing an 
 unusual thing an altogether reprehensible thing, 
 in coming to the still alone at night, thus seeking out 
 a man so notorious as was Hass. Is it perfectly 
 safe, she wondered, particularly now that Hass was 
 so constantly under the influence of liquor? And 
 then his awful temper. Hass's fits of rage had 
 always filled Lindy with a certain amount of misgiv- 
 ing brave as she had appeared. Hitherto, she 
 had been able to control the situation. But could 
 she to-night all things considered? And the girl's 
 blood hammered in her ears. 
 
 But the circumstances were desperate. There ap- 
 peared no alternative and oh, there was no time 
 to lose. If Hass should get beside himself and
 
 LINDY LOYD 161 
 
 forget had she not this? her hand seeking the 
 tiny protector within her bosom; and hurriedly 
 climbing the rock, now flooded in soft radiance, Lindy 
 gazed fearfully down through the fissure. "Yes 
 Softy is gone," she gasped. 
 
 With the exception of Softy's absence, the situ- 
 ation within the cave remained practically un- 
 changed. Hass, his head fallen forward, was sitting 
 upon an upturned keg drowsing before the fire, 
 the empty bottle just within reach sufficiently pro- 
 claiming his condition. Close against the farther 
 side of the cave, partially sheltered behind a lot of 
 rubbish, lay Softy's dog, vigilant and motionless. 
 
 At this moment Hass lifted his head and stared 
 stupidly around the cave. "The fool have gone 
 damn 'im," he muttered. 
 
 Hass's life within the past few months could but 
 have left its inevitable impress; and the bloated, 
 upturned face with its evil look, its sensual, cruel 
 mouth, filled the girl with terror. 
 
 At this moment Hass's eyes fell upon the dog. 
 "Kem yere!" he commanded, savagely. But the poor 
 beast only whimpered, pitifully. "Kem yere I 
 say " Hass shouted ; and the dog, a world of sup- 
 plication in his soft eyes, obeyed. 
 
 "An if Softy, he don't get that air business done 
 tonight," he snarled, bestowing a brutal kick upon 
 the helpless animal, "I'll " 
 
 And Lindy, sickened by the repulsive scene, clung
 
 162 LINDY LOYD 
 
 to the rock in sheer loathing of her self-appointed 
 task. "Is there no other way?" she breathed. 
 
 But Lindy was by nature fearless, and presently, 
 having grasped her courage anew, she peered again 
 within the cave. 
 
 "Hass?" she faintly articulated. 
 
 White, bathed in the sweat of fear, Hass started 
 and gazed apprehensively around. "War 't war 
 't a ha'nt?" he breathed. 
 
 "Hass?" again the soft voice, "It's me Lindy! 
 come outside." 
 
 Not yet convinced of the reality of the summons, 
 Hass obeyed; and there in the brilliant moonlight, 
 her slender, girlish figure bewitching in its boyish 
 garb, stood Lindy. 
 
 "Lindy Lindy !" cried Hass, enraptured by the 
 beauty of the girl, the unexpectedness of the en- 
 counter. 
 
 But Lindy, dominated by one purpose, did not 
 linger. Going straightway to him she placed her 
 hand upon his breast in unconscious appeal and 
 began: "I have come down here alone, to see you, 
 Hass." 
 
 "What air you-uns a-doin down yere, Lindy 
 at night this a-ways?" demanded Hass, awakening 
 to the situation. "What's hit?" 
 
 "Listen!" replied the girl, her direct gaze seeking 
 his, "I heard you and Softy, this afternoon, Hass. 
 I heard you tell him to to kill Daddy to-
 
 LINDY LOYD 163 
 
 night - " and her eyes searched his. Steadying 
 herself, Lindy went on "I heard you say you were 
 going to get Hugh too " and the girl went 
 white. 
 
 "Well " demanded Hass brutally. 
 
 "Don't !" 
 
 "Why not?" he persisted. 
 
 "Because I ask you." 
 
 "Damn !" 
 
 "Because," and the steadfast eyes gazed straight 
 into his, "low-down as you are, bad as you have be- 
 come, you have not yet committed murder." 
 
 "Lindy will you-uns be jined to me?" Hass de- 
 manded. 
 
 "No, Hass," firmly. 
 
 "Lindy, air you-uns a-callatin to be jined to that 
 city feller?" 
 
 "Yes" was the fearless reply. 
 
 "Well then Lindy, you-uns must be clear 
 plum' crazy !" Hass exploded. "Yuh kem way down 
 the mountain all alone an stand right yere before me 
 in the moonshine the purtiest thing God A'mighty 
 ever made then ask me to give yuh up to another 
 man ! Me! yuh ask me! Why Lindy leetle 
 Lindy," he pleaded, "I've loved yuh all my life ! 
 there never wuz no time whenst I ain't loved yuh, 
 Lindy ! an yuh ask me to give yuh up to 'im to 
 that damn city feller ! curse 'im curse *im! I 
 say," Hass vociferated, wildly.
 
 164 LINDY LOYD 
 
 But Lindy, fearless of his ravings, dauntlessly 
 persisted : "Don't do it Hass don't do it !" 
 
 As has been stated, Hass was a man of strong 
 passions, rough, reckless, unyielding in purpose and 
 not especially scrupulous as to the means employed 
 if the purpose were finally attained. The one puri- 
 fying, softening influence in his life had been Lindy 
 Lindy, who shone like a star in his firmament ; 
 and standing before the intrepid girl, so alluring in 
 her beauty, her splendid courage, her fearless 
 avowal of love for another man, the flame of Mass's 
 passion but increased until the thought of life with- 
 out Lindy became unbearable. 
 
 Convinced at last of the utter impossibility of 
 securing Lindy by fair means, Hass decided to re- 
 sort to unfair ; and by forcing the situation to 
 compel the girl's acceptance of himself. 
 
 "An yuh won't be jined to me, Lindy?" 
 
 "No, Hass." 
 
 "Yuh won't?" 
 
 "No," patiently. 
 
 Hass stood regarding her. 
 
 "An you-uns air a-spectin me to let the city feller 
 go, Lindy?" 
 
 "Yes, Hass." 
 
 "An if I do you-uns air a-spectin to be jined 
 to 'im?" 
 
 "Yes, Hass," the girl reiterated, fearlessly, her 
 eyes upon his.
 
 LINDY LOYD 165 
 
 "Well then I won't ! I won't let 'im go !" 
 Hass shouted. "There ain't nobody on God's earth 
 ez would give yuh up to another man, Lindy no- 
 body! Now listen to me!" and his hand fell heavy 
 upon the shoulder of the dauntless girl, "there is just 
 one way out of it just one way!" he reiter- 
 ated with cruel emphasis, his eyes burning into hers, 
 "be jined to me tomorrow! tomorrow Lindy! 
 An I will call Softy off an I will let the city feller 
 
 go." 
 
 Involuntarily, a tremor of disgust passed over the 
 girl and she shrank from him. 
 
 Hass noted her aversion. "An if so you-uns 
 won't be jined to me, Lindy," he went on, "why 
 I'll know just what to do 'bout yer Daddy an 
 bout that other'n, too," he added with grim sig- 
 nificance. "Damn 'im damn 'im ! I say," shouted 
 Hass, his face ablaze with hate. 
 
 White, stricken to stone, all the pretty color gone 
 from her cheeks, the light from her eyes, Lindy gazed 
 dully at Hass. What was it Hass had said? marry 
 him marry Hass? Why she could not she was 
 to marry Hugh ! Reaching blindly out for support 
 Lindy came in contact with the rock and clung, 
 trembling, to it as she strove to control her failing 
 senses, her shaking body. Oh where was Hugh? 
 why was he not here to help her in her extremity ? 
 And Daddy Ah ! With a shuddering breath the 
 girl awoke to the terrible situation.
 
 166 LINDY LOYD 
 
 To marry Hass to marry Hass! Ah she 
 could not ! Her entire being revolted at the thought. 
 Dear God I cannot marry him / cannot! she 
 pleaded. But perhaps Hass might relent. One 
 glance at that brutal face so greedily thrust for- 
 ward awaiting her decision, speedily convinced the 
 girl of the utter futility of that hope. 
 
 But to marry Hass ! And Hugh then ah, 
 what of him and of their love? And her soul 
 cried out in agony. 
 
 Once more Lindy lifted her eyes in wordless en- 
 treaty, scanning that cruel face for a gleam of 
 relenting. 
 
 But there was none. Having the girl at last in 
 his power, Hass was adamant. There was no appeal. 
 
 Must she accept his hateful proposition? Ah, 
 must she? If she agreed to marry Hass, nothing 
 short of death would release her from that promise. 
 Once her word was given, it would be kept ; and 
 Hass, aware of the absolute sincerity of the girl, was 
 waiting, longing, for that assurance. And oh 
 there was no time to waste. She must yield. Softy 
 had been gone a long while now already he might 
 be on his way up the mountain and Daddy oh 
 oh And bewildered, terrified, overcome by the 
 lack of time, by her utter impotence in regard to any 
 help whatsoever, Lindy consented to the sacrifice. 
 
 "And if I don't marry you tomorrow, Hass, you'll
 
 LINDY LOYD 167 
 
 you'll " questioned the girl in horrified accents, 
 her eyes glued to his. 
 
 "I will do ez I said, Lindy so help me God!" 
 Hass affirmed, solemnly; his diabolical expression 
 sufficiently indicating the fixity of his resolve. 
 
 "And if I do marry you, tomorrow you will let 
 Daddy and Hugh go?" 
 
 "I will, Lindy " 
 
 "For always, Hass?" 
 
 "For always, Lindy." 
 
 Steadily those truthful eyes searched the wicked, 
 pitiless face. Then "I will marry you tomorrow, 
 Hass," she said. 
 
 Controlling her emotion, Lindy stood in scornful, 
 stony silence while Hass appointed the place and the 
 hour for the sacrifice, which, for the sake of privacy, 
 he decided should be a village farther down the river 
 and at as early an hour as was possible. 
 
 Having further protected himself by securing the 
 girl's promise of certain, absolute secrecy in regard 
 to the marriage and the attendant circumstances 
 thereof until such time as he should deem it ad- 
 visable to reveal it Hass departed, exultant.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 WEARILY, mechanically, stupefied by the 
 calamity that had overtaken her a ca- 
 lamity she must not share Lindy turned 
 her steps homeward. How she climbed the trail the 
 girl never knew ; but reaching her home Lindy sought 
 the solitude of her own room and behind its closed 
 door endeavored to face and to accept the terrible 
 crisis so unexpectedly and so hatefully forced upon 
 her. 
 
 But the room cried aloud of Hugh. He was every- 
 where everywhere. Back of the door stood an 
 alpen-stock cut and fashioned by his dear hands, 
 reminiscence of a never-to-be-forgotten climb. On 
 the door hung a cap once his property. From 
 one corner of the room was suspended a broken 
 branch a tiny bird's-nest attached thereto; from 
 another, trailed the red berries of the eglantine and 
 the pale mistletoe; while scattered here and there 
 were trophies of many a mountain-ramble bits 
 and spoils of the forest of no intrinsic value 
 whatsoever, but rich in priceless association to 
 Lindy. 
 
 "Oh, Hugh how can I how can I " moaned 
 the girl, her eyes lingering upon each dear token. 
 
 168
 
 LINDY LOYD 169 
 
 Upon a small table by the bedside were the dearer 
 things : Hugh's picture ; the books he had given her ; 
 the tiny prayer-book once her mother's ; all 
 all linked indissolubly with the dear past asso- 
 ciated in some manner with Hugh ; with Hugh, her 
 lover, whom she was required to put out of her life, 
 forever; of whom, after tomorrow, it would be a sin, 
 even to think. 
 
 "And to marry Hass ! Hass Hicks!" she burst 
 forth with loathing, a sudden realization of her un- 
 happy fate sweeping over her. And Lindy sank upon 
 her knees in wild-eyed misery. 
 
 "Dear God I cannot ! I cannot give up 
 Hugh 7 cannot!" she pleaded, her eyes upon the 
 pictured face of her lover. "Mother oh, my 
 mother can you hear your little girl tonight ? I 
 need you so oh 7 need you so and there is 
 nobody nobody!. Mother oh my own 
 mother " sobbed the girl, her wet cheek upon the 
 prayer-book, sole reminder of the mother held so 
 dear. 
 
 Presently outraged nature claimed her own and 
 Lindy fell asleep, leaning against the little white bed. 
 
 Sometime in the gray hours of the very early 
 morning Lindy awakened from her unquiet slumber 
 and knew that her father had come safely down the 
 mountain and that the new day the dreaded new 
 day was almost upon her. 
 
 And there was yet a duty to perform an ending
 
 170 LINDY LOYD 
 
 of the old sweet life before entering upon the 
 new; and Lindy resolutely set herself to perform it. 
 
 Gathering together the books, Lindy stripped the 
 room of every small memento, every cherished re- 
 membrance of the happy past. Softly, reverently, 
 as if for the dead, she went about her preparations, 
 making everything into a bundle. 
 
 When all was finished, the girl gazed sadly around 
 her dismantled room. "One thing more the last," 
 she whispered ; and taking Hugh's picture into 
 her hands Lindy gazed long and earnestly upon it. 
 "Good-bye my lover, Hugh good-bye " she 
 breathed, placing it softly against her trembling 
 lips. Laying the picture with the rest, Lindy gath- 
 ered the bundle within her arms and stole softly from 
 the cabin.
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 UPON leaving the still, Softy had gone directly 
 to his cabin, where, desperate, bitter, he 
 brooded over his wrongs and endeavored to 
 nerve himself to the commission of the dastardly, 
 cold-blooded deed with which he had been charged. 
 
 It was miserable within the cabin ; its bareness, its 
 utter cheerlessness but emphasized by the flickering 
 gleam of the fire upon the hearth the only light 
 afforded. About it, as about the one suggestion of 
 comfort within reach, the entire family were 
 gathered. 
 
 Softy, his 1 elbows upon his knees, occupied one 
 corner of the fireplace. Surly, sodden with drink, 
 he sat glowering at the embers. Near him sat his 
 wife, slatternly, gaunt, hopeless-looking, her ill- 
 nourished baby pressed to her empty breast. Three 
 or four unkempt, sickly children in various stages 
 of poverty stricken undress, their young faces 
 already stamped with the sadness, the listlessness of 
 expression common to the mountaineer, were huddled 
 in the opposite corner of the hearth eagerly watch- 
 ing the preparations for the evening meal which was 
 presided over by the eldest girl. 
 
 171
 
 172 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Presently, scattering the heap of hot ashes, the 
 girl withdrew an ash cake from the center where it 
 had lain buried. Deftly removing the layers of 
 cabbage leaves enfolding it corn husks, thin strips 
 of board or any suitable protection would answer 
 the purpose equally well she placed the cake upon 
 a broken table propped against the wall. Lifting 
 the coffee from the embers for coffee of some sort 
 is a staple article of food with the mountaineer 
 she pronounced the meal ready and the hungry fam- 
 ily gathered about it. 
 
 Hass, in the meantime, inflated with the success 
 of his interview with Lindy, proceeded up the moun- 
 tain in search of his tool. Reaching the little cabin 
 he peered within the narrow window and with a low 
 whistle summoned Softy outside. 
 
 "Curse 'im!" muttered Softy, lingering at the 
 table. 
 
 Again the whistle more imperative. Realizing 
 that he had no choice but to obey, Softy shuffled 
 outside and stood before his tormentor. 
 
 Hass had been intolerable of late, and Softy, 
 loathing his toils, filled with hate and fear of his 
 tyrant, yet lacked sufficient strength of character to 
 break away from Hass's domination. But "the worm 
 will turn" and in Softy's opinion, Hass had far ex- 
 ceeded his privileges. Having come to this decision, 
 Softy only awaited a suitable opportunity to strike. 
 
 "An yuh ain't gone up the trail yet ?" gibed
 
 LINDY LOYD 173 
 
 Hass, regarding the poor wretch, contemptuously. 
 Unwilling to release his hold upon his miserable vic- 
 tim, he added: "Hit will be a hangin' job yuh 
 knows, Softy." 
 
 Softy winced. 
 
 "Wonder how 't'll feel, Softy, to step out upon 
 nuthin 't all just nuthin 't all?" he continued, 
 cruelly ; and with a significant gesture, Hass laid his 
 fingers across his throat. 
 
 "Damn yuh " muttered the shrinking man. 
 And Hass laughed, brutally. 
 
 "Well now then Softy, yuh ain't a-goin ! 
 yuh ain't a-goin up the mountain tonight an 
 yuh're to keep yer hands off of Mitry Loyd !" com- 
 manded Hass, with an entire change of manner. 
 
 Softy's jaw fell and he stared, dumbly. 
 
 "Don't yer savvy damn yuh?" Hass shouted, 
 fiercely, advancing upon the bewildered Softy, "Yuh 
 ain't a-goin up the mountain an yuh're to keep 
 off! got 'tr 
 
 "Yep I got 't," muttered Softy, lifting his arm 
 to ward off the expected blow. 
 
 "What a mean low-down no 'count cuss yuh 
 be, Softy, anyways ; hit air all I can do to keep my 
 hands off yuh;" Hass broke forth, contemptuously, 
 eyeing the poor wreck before him. 
 
 Softy watched him, warily. 
 
 "Aw kem along Softy ! kem on over to 
 Leary's an get some spunk into yer mis'ble carcass,"
 
 174 LINDY LOYD 
 
 cried Hass, turning away. "Kem on, Softy kem 
 on " he reiterated, jocularly, "we-uns'll make a 
 night of 't." 
 
 And Softy, scarcely yet realizing his release from 
 the contemplated crime and utterly distrustful of 
 Hass's sudden change of attitude, followed him to a 
 well known drinking-place, where, with kindred 
 spirits, they immediately proceeded to dice and 
 carouse. 
 
 The revelry increased as the night wore away. 
 Hass drank frequently the only apparent effect 
 being an increasing insolence and arbitrariness which 
 finally became insufferable and the evening's festivi- 
 ties terminated in a drunken row a free, hand-to- 
 hand fight. Fortunately, however, the arrival of the 
 officers of the law put an end to the disgraceful 
 scene. There were a number of arrests Softy 
 Sykes among the rest. Hass, however, again 
 escaped and evading pursuit, succeeded in reaching 
 his home.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 LEAVING the cabin, Lindy entered the trail 
 leading directly to the river. 
 
 There had been a heavy frost during the 
 night and the earth lay cold and white. Below, in 
 the distance, stretched the fields, their emptiness 
 covered with a filmy, web-like robe soon to be trans- 
 formed into a silvery, glittering sheen. Hanging 
 over the mountains were feathery banks of mist, 
 blown about by the breeze. Here and there, peeping 
 in between, could be seen the tops of the rock-ribbed 
 peaks, black and forbidding. Above, lay the clouds, 
 light and fleecy. Far up the zenith, delicate streamers 
 of palest yellow and red were flying, indicating the 
 path of the on-coming sun; while on the opposite 
 horizon, in the heart of a deep gorge, where the shad- 
 ows lay heavy and black, a slender shaft of red was 
 flung. 
 
 The trees were bare of foliage, now, their dead 
 leaves rustling underfoot. Many of the tiny wood- 
 dwellers had already gone into retreat for the winter 
 and the forest appeared empty of life. Occasionally, 
 however, a "cotton-tail," or a belated weasel, hurry- 
 ing home from some marauding expedition, would 
 
 175
 
 176 LINDY LOYD 
 
 flash into sight. Once, a "possum" trotted leisurely 
 across her path. 
 
 But Lindy was deaf to the voice of the woods. 
 Passing rapidly down the mountain she came out 
 into the open some distance above Dark Hollow and 
 proceeded directly to the river, where she placed her 
 bundle upon the ground, weighting it with stones. 
 Entering a skiff, Lindy then rowed out into the deep 
 water and dropped her bundle softly overboard. 
 
 With her face set resolutely down the river the 
 girl floated on with the current. On on and 
 still on : Dark Hollow, her own mountains, fa- 
 miliar landmarks all fading in the distance ; 
 Hugh, dear associations, her happy past Daddy, 
 too (for was she not hedged about, pledged to a 
 horrible secrecy, even from Daddy) all all 
 were left behind. Before her stretched the empty, 
 hopeless, utterly abhorrent future. But Lindy had 
 no thought of turning back. Her word was given 
 she would keep it. 
 
 After a time, rounding a bend in the river, her 
 destination came into view. Rowing ashore, Lindy 
 secured her boat at the edge of a small wood and 
 walked on to the village. 
 
 "You-uns be yere, Lindy," said a voice at her 
 elbow; and Hass stepped up beside her. 
 
 "Yes I'm here." 
 
 Evidently, there was to be no difficulty regarding 
 Lindy Vpart of the contract and Hass stole a glance
 
 LINDY LOYD 177 
 
 of admiration at the quiet, self-controlled girl. He 
 noted also the entire absence of her pretty, bright 
 manner, her pallor and the heavy shadows under 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Pore leetle Lindy," he meditated, "hates me like 
 pizen but a-goin to keep her promise if 't kills 
 her the plucky leetle devil ! Well I'll make 't 
 up to her ; I'll stop a-drinkin an a-carryin-on ; 
 I can make her happy an I will / will!" deter- 
 mined Hass, constrained by the girl's force of char- 
 acter. 
 
 "We-uns'll go to the Methody parson, Lindy," an- 
 nounced Hass, as they entered the village. 
 
 "I will be married in my mother's church, Hass," 
 quietly replied Lindy." 
 
 "Well hit makes no difference, so we be jined," 
 agreed Hass ; and presently they followed the rec- 
 tor white-haired and kindly into the church 
 and were married. 
 
 Hass, awkward and constrained, left the church 
 at once. Lindy, however, frightened, defenceless, 
 overwhelmed by the finality of the step just taken, 
 lingered a moment within the sacred walls, unable, 
 immediately, to meet the situation awaiting her out- 
 side and turning, the rector met the anguished, 
 panic-stricken eyes of the girl. 
 
 "Isn't it all right?" he inquired. 
 
 "Oh, no no!" she burst forth. 
 
 "Tell me my child "
 
 178 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "But I cannot tell you " 
 
 "Why can you not tell me?" 
 
 "I cannot oh, I cannot," she reiterated, with 
 trembling lips. 
 
 "Is there a burden to carry?" questioned the 
 rector, gently. 
 
 "Ah dear God ! yes yes " came the an- 
 guished reply. 
 
 "Is it yours?" 
 
 "Oh no!" 
 
 "Look at me my child." 
 
 Lindy lifted her clear, unfaltering eyes to his. 
 
 And the old rector, wise, experienced in dealing 
 with matters of the spirit, gazed directly into the 
 white, clean soul of the girl and was satisfied. 
 
 Softly he laid his trembling hand upon her bowed 
 head and slowly, impressively, pronounced the bless- 
 ing of the church: "The Lord bless thee and keep 
 thee. The Lord make His face to shine upon thee 
 and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up His 
 countenance upon thee and give thee peace, 
 both now and evermore. Amen!" 
 
 Comforted, Lindy arose and left the church. 
 
 Hass was disposed to be jubilant, talkative. Why 
 not? Had he not at last attained his heart's desire? 
 Was not the beautiful girl at his side now his wife? 
 His wife! Hass wanted to shout it aloud. And 
 what if the means employed were somewhat doubtful, 
 he argued, they had proved to be entirely adequate.
 
 LINDY LOYD 179 
 
 And what if Lindy did hold him in aversion? in 
 time he would win her love. In any case, she was his 
 wife his wife! Nothing could undo that great 
 fact nothing! And secure in that accomplish- 
 ment, Hass stepped along blithely. 
 
 Lindy, however, wrapped in a quiet dignity of 
 manner, calmly held Hass aloof and would have none 
 of his advances. 
 
 Presently they reached the woods. Untying her 
 boat, Lindy prepared to embark. 
 
 "Lindy leetle Lindy " Hass cried, suddenly. 
 
 Startled, Lindy lifted her weary eyes to his. "What 
 is it, Hass?" she gently inquired. 
 
 "Lindy," he burst forth, "you-uns air so white 
 so so tired an still like just like a leetle hurt 
 bird a leetle hurt bird, Lindy," he reiterated, his 
 eyes fixed miserably upon her, "an I I didn't cal- 
 late to hurt yuh none Lindy." 
 
 Lindy stood, speechless. 
 
 "Lindy," Hass went on, passionately, "I air 
 a-callatin to make you-uns happy to take keer of 
 yuh ! I air a-goin to stop a-drinkin, an a-carryin- 
 on you-uns can do anything yuh wanter with me, 
 Lindy anything 't all ! Lindy oh, Lindy " 
 
 But Lindy, her heart cold and dead within her, 
 could only gaze sorrowfully into Hass's face. 
 
 "Lindy," he pleaded, "I wisht mebbe mought 
 I kiss you-uns just onct? I I mean just what 
 I have said."
 
 180 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Oh must I Hass?" gasped the girl, her 
 eyes wide with fright and abhorrence. 
 
 As has been stated, in Lindy's interviews with 
 Hass stormy as those interviews commonly proved 
 to be she had been able, heretofore, to control the 
 situation; Hass, to do him justice, rendering the 
 girl the respect due her. Now, however, the situa- 
 tion was changed. Hass had not, now, to ask. It 
 was his to demand to take, even, should he so 
 choose; and Lindy, having realized the lengths of 
 evil to which Hass could go, was afraid oh so 
 horribly afraid. White, cold with apprehension, her 
 frightened pulses leaping, the girl awaited the caress 
 Hass could rightfully claim. 
 
 Hass stood, bitterly regarding her. He had read 
 the fear and detestation in her eyes and his heart 
 was filled with despair. So it was all of no avail. 
 Lindy's abhorrence was too deep for any plea of 
 his. Why oh, why, could he not move her ap- 
 peal to her? How she hated him how she feared 
 him, he meditated, gazing into the wide, loathful 
 eyes of the girl. 
 
 Very well then his brute nature in the ascen- 
 dency he could do no more. If she would not be 
 won, if she was determined to have none of him 
 why he could take what she refused to give. She 
 was his wife his wife. He would be only within his 
 rights. And, desperate, raging, Hass seized the girl 
 and crushed her to him.
 
 LINDY LOYD 181 
 
 Lindy closed her eyes. Like some fair, white 
 lily appealing in her very helplessness, her non- 
 resistance she lay within his arms. 
 
 For a second Hass stood silent, his eyes upon that 
 sweet form. Yes it was Lindy and she was his, 
 now. His by the laws of God and man. He could 
 crush her could break her and none could say 
 him nay. But that was not what Hass wanted 
 that pathetic, hopeless little figure. Ah, no ! Hass 
 wanted Lindy ! Lindy herself! that dear spirit 
 now shrinking in fear and aversion behind the sweep- 
 ing lashes. Ah, that! would that ever be his? 
 And Hass gazed despairingly upon the girl. Ah 
 why could he not win her? why oh, why? 
 
 "An you-uns won't kiss me, Lindy leetle 
 Lindy?" he cried with exceeding bitterness. 
 
 Lindy, her pulses throbbing wildly, remained mute 
 within his arms. . 
 
 "I won't have a stun immige, Lindy," he shouted, 
 suddenly releasing her. "Damn damn damn " 
 and Hass flung off through the woods.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THERE'S likely to be another big frost to- 
 night," remarked Mitry, entering the kitchen. 
 "Reckon hit's plum' time for another 
 heard the wild geese a-honkin' again this mornin' 
 for one thing," Joan replied. 
 
 "Yep beats all how them wild critters do hit 't," 
 agreed Mitry. "Hit certainly do smell good in yere, 
 Joan," Mitry went on, sniffing the savory odors from 
 the hearth ; and having hung his cap upon the back 
 of the door coat likewise he filled his pipe and 
 settled himself comfortably in the corner of the fire- 
 place to await the summons to supper. 
 
 The kitchen with its appetizing odors, the ruddy 
 glow from the hearth scattering the shadows from 
 the blackened rafters overhead presented a pic- 
 ture of homely comfort. At intervals, a brilliant flare 
 would set strange figures dancing upon the cabin- 
 walls. Now here, now there, hither and yon they 
 darted, their elfin touches flickering among the pol- 
 ished brasses in gleams of gold. 
 
 In front of the hearth, luxuriating in the prospec- 
 tive good cheer, lay Peter, endeavoring by every 
 means in his cat power to convey his extreme appre- 
 
 182
 
 LINDY LOYD 183 
 
 ciation of the situation his expectation of joint 
 participation. Presently the family gathered about 
 the table. 
 
 "Well " announced Mitry, "Hass an Softy, 
 they's both back in the jail-house!" 
 
 "What's hit Lindy? air you-uns a-chokin?" 
 cried Joan, rising to aid the girl. 
 
 "It's nothing nothing Aunt Joan," gasped 
 Lindy, hysterically. All day long she had gone 
 about her home, apprehensive of the sometime arrival 
 of Hass and of his lawful claim upon her; and the 
 sudden relief afforded by Mitry's words was almost 
 more than she could endure. 
 
 Mitry said nothing, but his eyes dwelt upon her, 
 questioningly. 
 
 "Who wuz 't a-tellin yuh, Mitry?" inquired Joan, 
 resuming the subject of conversation. 
 
 "Hit war Si Etter. Said there wuz the biggest 
 kind of a time over to Leary's last night a-drinkin 
 an a-hollerin; purty soon they-alls got into a big 
 fight sorta free for all, like." 
 
 "Well I never !" interpolated Joan. 
 
 "An Si, he said," Mitry went on, "that the law, 
 hit have had its eye on that place of Leary's for 
 some time; an last night the officers just lit right 
 onto the hull caboodle of 'em. Got 'em, too ceptin 
 Hass an he war cotched this mornin, sometime." 
 
 "Well that Hass Hicks he certainly have 
 been a-goin 't yere lately," gibed Joan. "Where'd 
 they find 'im?"
 
 184 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Clear down the river somewheres." 
 
 Lindy lifted startled eyes. 
 
 "I clar for 't, Lindy yuh air that white " 
 Joan cried, "Reckon I'd better fix yuh up some 
 bone-set." 
 
 "Very well," agreed the girl. 
 
 "Softy, he hates Hass wusser'n a snake," Mitry 
 went on, "an whenst them officers axed did they-alls 
 know anything 'bout Hass Hicks, Softy, he up an 
 told 'em that Hass'd been there too right along 
 with the rest of 'em " 
 
 "Huh!" Joan ejaculated. 
 
 "An Softy Sykes, he'd better take good keer of 
 that hide of his'n whenst Hass gets out the jail- 
 house," Mitry concluded, as they rose from the 
 table. 
 
 "That's so!" Joan agreed, heartily. 
 
 "What have made you-uns so still-like Cita? 
 What's hit?" demanded Mitry, drawing the girl to 
 him. 
 
 Lindy placed her arms about his neck, hiding her 
 face upon his breast. "Tired Daddy. I think I 
 was never so tired never!" she replied. "Daddy, 
 are are you certain that Hass is in the jail- 
 house?" 
 
 "He's in the jail-house, Cita an it's just plum' 
 where he b'longs," emphatically. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Daddy !" and a tremor passed over the 
 girl.
 
 LINDY LOYD 185 
 
 Mitry drew her closer; and Lindy, her whole soul 
 crying out for help, for protection, lingered, com- 
 forted by the sense of his dear arms about her. "Ah 
 Daddy Daddy dear," she whispered, clinging 
 to him. But she did not tell him of her trouble 
 she must not. 
 
 "What's hit, Cita? tell Daddy," he urged. 
 
 "I am I am so tired Daddy so tired," she 
 reiterated, her face still hidden. 
 
 "Well well get to bed, Cita, get to bed," 
 he soothed ; and Lindy turned obediently away. But 
 Mitry's troubled eyes followed the girl. 
 
 The experiences of the past twenty-four hours had 
 been almost too much for human endurance and ex- 
 hausted, body and soul, Lindy laid herself upon her 
 bed, but not to sleep. With wide-open eyes she 
 lay, motionless, her weary brain endlessly traversing 
 the same beaten track the temporary relief af- 
 forded by Mass's imprisonment the single ray that 
 penetrated the darkness. 
 
 The circumstances surrounding the girl were 
 especially painful. In addition to the conditions of 
 the situation, unusual and distressing in themselves, 
 was the added weight of secrecy imposed by Hass. 
 Dissimulation was utterly foreign to Lindy. 
 Straightforward, ingenuous, her life hitherto had 
 been but an open page ; and a secret something 
 that must be hidden was a thing unknown to her. 
 Particularly was this the case in reference to her re-
 
 186 LINDY LOYD 
 
 lations with her father with whom she had discussed 
 her joys and sorrows since babyhood. "To deceive 
 Daddy why, I cannot!" she whispered. "He 
 knows, now, that something is wrong and I dare 
 not look into his dear eyes. If he finds out he 
 will shoot Hass and he must not have that guilt 
 upon his soul. Oh the whole thing is horrible ! 
 I loathe it / loathe it!" And the girl writhed in 
 her misery. 
 
 Then there was Hugh and the rendezvous 
 at the old camp, planned for the following day. 
 Well she was going. In spite of her conscientious 
 scruples regarding her duty as Hass's wife, she 
 would not deny herself that one, last, sad meeting. 
 Besides, it was due Hugh. It was due them both 
 a decent ending to their dream of love. But oh 
 what could she say ? How explain Explain! 
 she could explain nothing nothing! Owing to that 
 most cruel limitation put upon her, she could make 
 no defense whatsoever. Defense! and in connec- 
 tion with Hugh her lover, Hugh! And so, over 
 and over the same mental round went the weary 
 brain. 
 
 Was she Hass's wife, anyway? It was ages and 
 ages ago maybe it was a dream she might be 
 fevered or or something. And with a wild 
 hope the girl sat up in bed, her hand stealing to her 
 bosom. Ah, no ! It was no dream no wild fancy ! 
 They were there those hated marriage-lines !
 
 LINDY LOYD 187 
 
 and Lindy dropped back upon her pillow. Peace 
 peace what was it the kindly old rector had 
 said? Peace? Ah, dear God when would she 
 have peace? when " and with a long, shivering 
 sigh, Lindy fell asleep.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 HUGH came slowly up the trail, sober and 
 meditative. Ordinarily, his eager spirit far 
 out-stripped his feet ; but to-day well, to- 
 day was different. The expected summons calling 
 him North had arrived and Hugh had that to say 
 to Lindy, which, brave girl though she was, would 
 bring tears to her eyes, a quiver to that sweet mouth. 
 To hurt Lindy ! well Hugh was miserable at the 
 thought ; and although the prospective arrange- 
 ment was far beyond his expectations, he found him- 
 self for the moment almost regretting his splendid 
 opportunity. What a lot of misery there is in the 
 world anyway, he meditated. 
 
 It had been a never-to-be-forgotten summer, all 
 too short for the lovers ; particularly these last few 
 weeks. The appointed interviews at the old camp, so 
 pitiably few in their estimation, had been eagerly 
 anticipated, met and the full toll of satisfaction ex- 
 tracted from each. Now, it had suddenly become but 
 a matter of days of hours, even. Ah, well it 
 had to be done. He must tell Lindy. 
 
 But where was Lindy? Had he arrived too early? 
 Aroused from his absorption, Hugh gazed expec- 
 
 188 

 
 LINDY LOYD 189 
 
 tantly up the trail, but no sweet girl-figure rewarded 
 his longing eyes. Well a certain amount of pleas- 
 ure was always to be had from anticipation she 
 would certainly be here directly ; and leaning against 
 the old pine, Hugh surrendered himself again to med- 
 itation. 
 
 With brows drawn and lips compressed, he peered 
 into the future, planning, demanding. He would suc- 
 ceed he would! and his mouth settled into grim 
 lines. No chance should elude his grasp ; no possible 
 opportunity be neglected. With eyes fixed steadily 
 upon the accomplishment of his purpose, he would 
 pursue an undeviating path to his goal, each step 
 of his progress but a shortening of the separa- 
 tion from Lindy from Lindy. And the fire of an 
 unalterable resolve, an abiding purpose, glowed in 
 Hugh's eyes. 
 
 Still Lindy did not appear and Hugh's wonder 
 became concern. That she should be late at a ren- 
 dezvous was a thing unknown; that she should not 
 come at all was a thing not to be believed. What 
 could have happened what ? Ah ! as a flutter 
 of feminine garments appeared on the pathway. 
 Hugh immediately sent out the whippoorwill's call. 
 But there came no answering response. 
 
 Slowly, as with weighted feet, Lindy came down 
 the trail. 
 
 "Lindy Lindy what is it?" cried Hugh, hur- 
 rying to meet her.
 
 190 LINDY LOYD 
 
 The girl made no reply, but came lingeringly 
 along. 
 
 "Why why, you are faint, Lindy," Hugh ex- 
 claimed, beholding the pallid face, the nerveless body ; 
 and he bent to gather her within his arms. 
 
 But Lindy refused his proffered assistance. "Don't 
 don't, Hugh," she said, moving aside. 
 
 "But but you are ill !" he insisted. 
 
 "Oh, no Hugh ! don't touch me don't ! please 
 Hugh," pleaded the girl, withdrawing from his em- 
 brace. 
 
 And Hugh could only stare helplessly. 
 
 Reaching the old pine, Lindy laid her head wearily 
 against it, her face downcast. 
 
 Astonished, perplexed, Hugh stood silent before 
 her. With the eye of the physician he noted the evi- 
 dence of some painful experience endured : the pallor, 
 the heavy eyes, the unnatural depression, the ex- 
 haustion. It was as if some terrible blight had passed 
 over the girl he held so dear. 
 
 "For God's sake, Lindy tell me what has hap- 
 pened to to blast you so," he burst forth. 
 
 "I cannot I cannot tell you, Hugh," she began ; 
 then, her voice faint and tremulous, "I I have 
 come to bid you to bid you good bye, Hugh." 
 
 "Ah! is that it, Lindy?" Hugh cried, relief in 
 his voice ; and he drew her to him. 
 
 "No don't ! oh don't Hugh !" the girl im- 
 plored, shrinking away.
 
 LINDY LOYD 191 
 
 "But why not Lindy why not?" Hugh expos- 
 tulated. 
 
 "Because you must not ! you may not now. 
 
 Oh, Hugh ! never never again!" And white, 
 trembling, Lindy clung to the pine. 
 
 Into Hugh's soul crept a nameless foreboding 
 impalpable, satanic, impossible. "Lindy " he 
 cried, desperately, "what is it? Your face is white 
 
 and there are cruel circles around your pretty 
 eyes God ! your suffering unmans me ! Lindy 
 Lindy what is it ? tell me !" 
 
 The girl strove desperately to control her emo- 
 tion. "Something has happened, Hugh and 
 and " 
 
 "But tell me what what has happened, Lindy," 
 Hugh entreated, "let me help you ! Ah come to 
 me, Lindy! Lindy come?" his arms out- 
 stretched. 
 
 "But Hugh I cannot tell you and and I 
 may not come !" the girl replied, wildly, imploringly. 
 
 Resolved to end the painful scene, Hugh seized 
 Lindy in his arms, pressing her head with gentle 
 force against his breast. "Now, listen to me, Lindy," 
 he said, authoritatively, "lie quiet and we will talk 
 over this strange happening." Holding her closely 
 to him, Hugh constrained her to listen while he 
 soothed her, pleaded with her. 
 
 And Lindy ! Vanquished, the storm-tossed girl 
 lay quiet within the haven of Hugh's arms her 
 head once more upon his dear breast.
 
 192 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Put your arms around my neck, Lindy," Hugh 
 commanded. 
 
 Lindy obeyed. 
 
 "Now !" and Hugh laid his lips to hers. "You 
 are mine mine Lindy!" he cried. Swept away 
 by man's primal instinct he crushed her fiercely to 
 him, reiterating: "You are mine! my wife! God! 
 God ! and let any man try to take you from 
 me!" 
 
 With a wild cry Lindy tore herself from Hugh's 
 embrace. "But I can never be your wife, Hugh 
 never never! You will not want me when 
 when I have told you, Hugh," she cried frantically, 
 her staring eyes upon him. 
 
 Perplexed, miserable, Hugh gazed at the girl. 
 "Lindy," he cried, passionately, his eyes burning 
 into hers, "why cannot you be my wife? tell me 
 tell me now !" 
 
 For a moment Lindy remained silent. Then, 
 placing one hand lightly upon Hugh's breast, she 
 passed her finger-tips softly, lingeringly over each 
 lineament in the effort to imprint that dear face 
 forever upon her memory. "Because, Hugh be- 
 cause I am married am married to another," she 
 whispered as she turned away. 
 
 Hugh went white. Confounded, stricken, he stood 
 in awful silence before the girl. 
 
 "Married did you say married Lindy?" he 
 reiterated dully.
 
 LINDY LOYD 193 
 
 But Lindy was realizing the enormity of her task 
 and could make no reply. 
 
 Again the awful silence. 
 
 "Is this thing true? this that you have said, 
 Lindy?" Hugh burst forth, presently. 
 
 Lindy could only nod assent. 
 
 "Married God ! God ! when when were 
 you married?" he shouted. 
 
 "Yesterday " faintly. 
 
 "To whom?" 
 
 But Lindy remained silent. 
 
 "Why why did you marry him?" thundered 
 Hugh. 
 
 "I cannot tell you, Hugh " 
 
 "But you shall tell me you shall, Lindy! Why 
 did you marry him?" Hugh's hand fell heavy on the 
 girl's shoulder and he turned her face to his. 
 
 A tremor passed over her, but Lindy did not fal- 
 ter. "I had to," she breathed, her eyes downcast. 
 
 "You say you had you had to marry him, 
 Lindy?" reiterated Hugh, his strained face peering 
 into hers. 
 
 "Yes I had to marry him " the girl repeated, 
 automatically. And Hugh, stricken to stone, stood 
 desperately regarding her. 
 
 Ah where is now your good angel, Hugh, to 
 stamp out at once and forever, that cruel, insane 
 doubt that like a fiery flame is eating into your 
 soul?
 
 194 LINDY LOYD 
 
 And Lindy ! Could she but have lifted her eyes 
 those wells of truth Hugh would have read the 
 utter whiteness of the soul within. But alas! she 
 did not she dared not! She must not allow her- 
 self another glance into that face so dear. 
 
 "Lindy " and Hugh's voice was low and tense, 
 "you say you had to " 
 
 "Yes it is true, Hugh," panted the girl, "I had 
 to " 
 
 Hugh turned abruptly and strode down the moun- 
 tain, his soul utter, black chaos. 
 
 What was this unbelievable this perfectly im- 
 possible thing, so suddenly and so unexpectedly 
 thrusting its hateful face into his? Lindy married 
 to another? it was unthinkable maddening ! 
 
 And the future ! Every plan, every step of the 
 way was associated with Lindy centered about 
 Lindy ; and now its emptiness, its utter loneliness 
 stared him in the face. Hugh dared not think about 
 the future. 
 
 What should he do ? where should he go ? 
 
 Like a faint, far-away whisper came the remem- 
 brance : "Hugh if if you find you can 
 come ever " 
 
 Ah ! there was loyalty there was sympathy. 
 He would go to Miss Lucie. He would state the 
 case to her in its entirety and without a shadow of 
 pretence. If she would listen if she would accept 
 his ruined life, he would give himself to her comfort 
 utterly.
 
 LINDY LOYD 195 
 
 Hugh took the train that night for Mobile, where, 
 not many days after, Miss Lucie Simmons and he 
 were married. They sailed abroad immediately; 
 Hugh, at the insistence of Miss Lucie, entering at 
 once upon the continuance of his medical prepara- 
 tion.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 A FEW days after the events just recorded, 
 Joan was sewing by the kitchen-window, 
 Peter dozing upon the sill. Suddenly Peter 
 hastily retired beneath the settle. 
 
 "Huh ! thought so," muttered Joan, peering 
 from the window. 
 
 The latch of the door lifted and Mrs. Hicks en- 
 tered. Seating herself before the hearth, she 
 dropped her face into her palms and remained silent. 
 
 "Brackie," Joan burst forth, cheerily, "the circuit- 
 rider, he air on his ways ; be at the church-house 
 next Sunday, most likely." 
 
 "Don't know ez I'd get there, anyways Hass in 
 the jail-house." 
 
 "Yep you'll get there," Joan soothed. " 'Spose 
 whenst Hass's in the jail-house, he ben't a-carryin 
 on none outside ; there's that to think on, Brackie," 
 she added. 
 
 "Mebbe so," Mrs. Hicks agreed, accepting the du- 
 bious encouragement. 
 
 "Reckon Evie Tuttle an 'er feller '11 be jined, if 
 the rider, he kerns by, Joan." 
 
 "They's a-callatin to be. Lissy Aller, she war 
 
 196
 
 LINDY LOYD 197 
 
 down the mountain an she said as how some of the 
 neighbors war a-goin over to the Tuttles's kem to- 
 morrow, to help Evie with 'er quiltin; an if me'n, 
 yuh an Miz Rogan could kem up, inebbe, 'twixt us 
 all, that quilt could be got out the frame. I 'lowed 
 I'd tell yuh." 
 
 "Yep I'll go up. Tomorrer?" 
 
 "Tomorrow." 
 
 "Joan, what wuz 't ez happened up to Trim 
 Aller's on Hallere'en night?" Brackie suddenly de- 
 manded. "Hit war sumpin 'bout Trim, hisself ." 
 
 "Haven't you-uns heern tell of Trim Aller's curi- 
 ous an 'sprisin antics on Hallere'en, Brackie? 
 haven't you, now?" Joan cried. 
 
 "No I ain't heern tell," aggrievedly. 
 
 "Well we all sure had a great time, up there, 
 that night what with the tricks an spells an all the 
 foolishness of 't. But Trim hisself, Brackie Trim 
 he war the one. I clar for 't, I can see Trim Aller 
 a-makin for that barn, right this yere very minute !" 
 and Joan gave way to her mirth. 
 
 "What war Trim after out there in the barn?" 
 
 "After Trim after? That war just hit, 
 Brackie, only hit war the yuther way 'round ; Trim, 
 he war plum' certain that sumpin war after 'im," 
 gurgled Joan. 
 
 "Well Joan " said Mrs. Hicks, austerely ; 
 and Joan went on : 
 
 "Yuh wouldn't a-blieved that a broom could have
 
 198 LINDY LOYD 
 
 made such a commotion, Brackie, but that's what 't 
 war just nuthin in this world but a fool-broom 
 that somebody had rigged up plum' like a wumman; 
 had 'er all dressed in white, with a bunnit on an set 'er 
 behind the door, just where everybody first kem in. 
 
 "Land-er-livin ! Brackie, but she was sure fear- 
 some. They had the room dark, an I wan't the on- 
 liest one that hollered right out whenst I kem upon 
 'er. Evie Tuttle, she just keeled over ; an then Lissy, 
 she said she wan't a-goin to be 'sponsible for any 
 more faintin's, so she up an carried the thing into 
 'er bed-room an shut the door upon 't; an bimeby, 
 whenst they-alls got ready to dance, everything war 
 just piled into Lissy's room, right on the top of the 
 broom-lady. 
 
 "Well Brackie 'long 'bout midnight, Trim, 
 he kem in off the mountain. Seems he'd been out for 
 a couple days, a-hunting; an he war so daid tired 
 that he just crept into the winder, out of his clothes 
 and into his baid without a-sayin one word to any- 
 body. Even Lissy, she didn't know that Trim had 
 kem in. 
 
 "Yuh knows 'zactly how they-alls carry-on, 
 Brackie; an bimeby they'd got to cuttin' an searin' 
 round so that the hull house hit just shook an every- 
 thing in 't ; an the clothes an things they'd piled 
 onto the broom-lady dropped onto the floor an left 
 'er, white an starin. Just 'bout that time, Trim, he 
 opened up his peepers an there stood the broom-
 
 LINDY LOYD 199 
 
 lady a-teeterin round in the moonlight. Trim, he 
 laid there an looked at 'er, too scairt to move an 
 then, Brackie, then Miz broom-lady, she just 
 jumped right at 'im yep jumped right at 'im." 
 
 "Ain't 't now?" interpolated Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "Well Brackie yuh knows no mortal could 
 be a-spected to stand that. Trim, he let out a yell 
 an kem a-bouncin into the next room just a-hollerin; 
 an I can tell yuh for a fact, Brack Hicks, hit war 
 moughty curious round there for a whiles what 
 with all of 't. Trim, he war so scairt hisself, that he 
 scairt up everybody else ; an whenst he begun to hol- 
 ler "hants hants " an started for out-doors, 
 we-alls just streamed right 'long after 'im; an the 
 last thing I see of Trim Aller he war headed straight 
 for the barn Lissy after 'im, a-carryin some kind 
 of a kiver she'd grabbed off the fence." 
 
 "Kiver a-carryin some kind of a kiver Joan 
 you-uns don't mean " 
 
 "Yep I do Brackie that's just what I 
 been a-tellin yuh ! Trim Aller, he lit into that room 
 just 'zactly like he lit into baid; just 'zactly that 
 a-ways!" 
 
 "Laws-a-massy laws-a-massy !" twittered Mrs. 
 Hicks. 
 
 "How them white laigs of Trim's did twinkle up 
 that lane ; an thin I never would a-believed that 
 Trim Aller had such thin laigs ; would yuh 
 Brackie? Did yuh think Trim had thin laigs?" 
 persisted Joan, wilfully.
 
 200 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Me? Me Joan?" Mrs. Hicks shrilled, "never 
 thought nuthin 'tall 'bout 't. I ben't that kind " 
 
 "Aw shucks ! Brack " 
 
 "Should think yuh'd do yer best to forget such 
 sights," admonished Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "Wouldn't yuh now?" Joan agreed, wickedly. 
 "But 't pears like I can't ; reckon I'll see them laigs 
 of Trim's just ez long ez I live, Brackie." 
 
 Mrs. Hicks's silence was eloquent of disapproval. 
 
 "An Mitry, he says," concluded Joan, "that Trim, 
 he's a-goin round with a gun these yere days, just 
 a-waitin for somebody to say 'ha'nts' to 'im." 
 
 "Spose Si Etter, he war up there, Joan?" Mrs. 
 Hicks inquired, presently. 
 
 "Yep," shortly. 
 
 "Miz Rogan, she war a-tellin 'bout Si," Mrs. 
 Hicks persisted, "an she 'lowed that he air ernuther 
 man since the bush-meetin. Pore lonesome feller ! 
 ain't nobody to keer none whether he goes right or 
 goes wrong"; and she stole a glance at her com- 
 panion. 
 
 But Joan vouchsafed no reply. 
 
 "That Mandy Pegg, now, Joan she do beat all ; 
 the way she kites round after well after 
 some folkses" Mrs. Hicks burst forth, with apparent 
 irrelevance. 
 
 Still Joan remained silent. 
 
 "Did yuh ever see such queer color hair as Mandy 
 Pegg have, Joan nor so much of 't did yuh
 
 LINDY LOYD 201 
 
 now?" Mrs. Hicks demanded, turning suddenly to 
 Joan. 
 
 "Nope." 
 
 "An ain't she lame? an ain't her eyes crooked 
 or or sumpin?" 
 
 "Yep." 
 
 "Well then wouldn't yuh think Mandy 
 Pegg'd have sense 'nough to keep herself more quiet, 
 like? Where'd she kem from, Joan anyways? 
 Don't b'long round yere none. An if she kem to get 
 what old Granny Pegg left why don't she go 
 back now that Granny's daid an she have 
 got 't?" 
 
 But Joan remained perfectly non-committal. 
 
 "Have Lindy been sick, Joan?" Mrs. Hicks be- 
 gan again, presently. 
 
 "Nope," was the discouraging response. 
 
 Mrs. Hicks jumped to her feet and glared at her 
 companion. "Well if yuh won't talk yuh won't, 
 I reckon," she snapped; "but Lindy, she certainly 
 do look punin,' Hite Cronce, he war a-tellin me," 
 she persisted, "that the doctor feller, he have gone 
 gone for good. 'Pears like Hite, he seen 'im go 
 one ev'nin. Hit war four or five days a-gone," she 
 added, her speculative gaze upon Joan. 
 
 "War 't?" Joan drawled. 
 
 And Mrs. Hicks went out and slammed the door.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 MITRY, pipe in his mouth, chair tilted to the 
 right angle, was occupying his after-supper 
 position upon the hearth, his eyes following 
 Lindy as, white and listless, she went about her accus- 
 tomed duties. 
 
 "Kem yere, Cita," he said, presently. 
 
 The girl came obedient to his call and dropped 
 down upon a low seat beside him, her head upon his 
 lap. 
 
 Mitry's arms closed about her and for a time the 
 two were silent. 
 
 For some time, now, indeed, since the day that 
 marked so painful an epoch in the life of the girl, 
 Mitry had been quietly observant of her awaiting 
 her confidence. 
 
 Lindy, bound by the hateful restrictions of secrecy 
 imposed by Hass, had been perfectly aware of her 
 father's condition of mind his anxiety and dis- 
 satisfaction. She was aware also, that the situation 
 would, finally, have to be met and some sort of an 
 understanding or explanation arrived at; and 
 now, the time was come. 
 
 "What's hit?" Mitry questioned, presently. 
 202
 
 LINDY LOYD 203 
 
 Lindy made no reply, but clung despairingly to 
 him. 
 
 "Leetle gal tell Daddy what's a-worryin' you- 
 uns," he whispered. 
 
 Still no reply. 
 
 "Cita, I've had to be Mammy an Daddy both, to 
 yuh. Mebbe I haven't alwuz done the best but 
 I've tried, Cita I've tried ! you-uns must tell 
 me what's hit!" 
 
 "But I can't tell you, Daddy," cried the girl des- 
 perately. 
 
 "Can't tell me yer Daddy? why can't yuh 
 tell me?" he demanded. 
 
 "Because, Daddy because I I can't." 
 
 For a moment Mitry was silent ; then "Have 
 that young 'Umphreys been a-playin fast an loose 
 consarn " 
 
 "Oh, no Daddy, no ! Hugh couldn't be unkind 
 to me. Besides he has gone ! he has gone! 
 I shall never see him again oh, Daddy Daddy !" 
 and Lindy flung herself upon her father's breast in 
 an abandonment of grief. 
 
 "There there, Cita there, leetle gal," soothed 
 Mitry. "Yer Daddy's yere he'll take keer of you- 
 uns. He will!" grimly. "What'd 'Umphreys go off 
 for, Cita?" he demanded, presently. 
 
 "I sent him away, Daddy." 
 
 "Yuh sent 'im?" suspiciously. "What's he been 
 wisht I'd a had my hands onter 'im ! but he'll kem 
 back again, Cita, he'll kem back," he soothed.
 
 204 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "No, Daddy Hugh will never come back. 
 Never never " sobbed the girl. 
 
 "He won't kern back? Why " 
 
 "Listen, Daddy, it wasn't Hugh ! I I 
 won't let him come back. It nearly broke Hugh's 
 heart, Daddy, when I sent him away. Oh, Hugh 
 Hugh " she cried, brokenly. 
 
 "Then who wuz 't?" demanded Mitry. "Hit war 
 somebody! Wuz 't that damn Hass?" 
 
 The girl remained silent. 
 
 "Cita wuz 't that devil?" and Mitry's face, 
 black with anger peered into hers. 
 
 But Lindy only sobbed, broken-heartedly. 
 
 "God God " shouted Mitry, trembling with 
 passion. "There'll kem a time and then " lift- 
 ing his hand to Heaven, as if to register his unspoken 
 oath. 
 
 "Don't Daddy, don't " cried Lindy. "Hass 
 didn't Hass hasn't " 
 
 "Wan't Hass mixed up in 't someways, Cita?" 
 Mitry demanded. 
 
 But the girl was speechless. 
 
 "I won't have you-uns made mis'ble I won't ! 
 I won't have that low-down skunk damn ! Cita, 
 you-uns must tell me what's hit!" Mitry ex- 
 ploded, exasperated at his helplessness. 
 
 "Ah if I only could tell you, Daddy if I 
 ordy could," grieved the girl. "When I can I will. 
 But not now not now. Daddy oh, Daddy," she
 
 LINDY LOYD 205 
 
 burst forth, despairingly, her eyes upon his, "there 
 is no sin of mine upon my soul none! I am just 
 your own little girl your baby, Daddy ! And I 
 need you so oh, / need you so! You must hold me 
 close to you Daddy very, very close. Could any- 
 body could anybody take me away from you, 
 Daddy?" And Lindy, her eyes wide with apprehen- 
 sion, clung affrightedly to him. 
 
 Mitry's answer was not given in words. 
 
 "And you must trust me, Daddy you must trust 
 me now," she continued. "And you must wait 
 too. Oh, yes you must wait, Daddy," and the 
 girl's clear, unfaltering gaze met his. "Can you wait, 
 Daddy?" she pleaded. 
 
 "Leetle gal leetle gal " and Mitry's arms 
 were close about her, his eyes upon hers, "yer Dad- 
 dy's right yere right yere ! an I can wait until 
 you-uns can tell me what's hit. But that damned 
 Hass" and Mitry's j aw squared, while his eyes 
 glowed, ominously "well he don't wanter kem 
 my ways none."
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE following day, towards the latter part of 
 the afternoon, Joan, breathless, her eyes shin- 
 ing, and in a state of repressed excitement 
 generally, joined the quilters up at Mrs. Tuttle's. 
 
 "Law-a-massy ! but yuh be late, Joan Where 
 yuh been? where's Lindy?" demanded Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "Lindy, she have gone out on the mountain with 
 'er Daddy. Didn't know whether to kem or not 
 hit be so late " Joan panted. "Just look at 
 me " indicating various rents in her clothing and 
 bruises upon her body. 
 
 "Why yer arms, they be all clawed up, 
 Joan " 
 
 "You-uns ain't a-tellin that 't war a wild beastis, 
 Joan " 
 
 "Good-land! What yuh been up to, Joan 
 tell us !" demanded the women. 
 
 "Been a-savin a woman's life me'n Si Etter," 
 was the laconic reply. 
 
 "A-savin a woman's life " 
 
 "What woman? " 
 
 "Oh, shucks ! Joan," they chorused. 
 
 "Did yuh say yuh'n Si Etter, Joan?" demanded 
 206
 
 LINDY LOYD 207 
 
 Mrs. Hicks. "An who war the woman? you-uns 
 ain't told us that yit," she added. 
 
 "The woman war Mandy Pegg," announced Joan. 
 
 "Mandy Pegg! " 
 
 "She ain't daid? " 
 
 "Nope she's alive what's left of 'er " Joan 
 replied. 
 
 "What's left of 'er? Then hit war a beastis, 
 Joan?" 
 
 "Jim, he told me to kem down the mountain early," 
 interpolated Mrs. Rogan. 
 
 "Go on, Joan, go on " urged Lissy Aller, "tell 
 we-uns." 
 
 "Don't know where to take hold where to begin 
 at," said Joan. 
 
 "Begin? why at the plum' beginnin," cried the 
 women. 
 
 "Reckon we-alls mought ez well go on with the 
 quiltin," Mrs. Tuttle suggested, quietly. 
 
 "That's so that's so " and the expectant 
 women settled to their quilting in breathless silence. 
 
 "Well " Joan began, "I started up yere in 
 plum' time to get in a good afternoon's work just 
 like I said I would; an just because 't war a leetle 
 the nearest I cut through by Miz Pegg's a-callatin 
 to take the trail just beyonst. But the Lord, he must 
 certainly have sent me that a-ways, for if I or 
 somebody else hadn't a kem by, that woman 
 well she'd a died a turrible death that's sure."
 
 208 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Land-er-love ! " 
 
 "I wuz just a-hurryin along," Joan continued, 
 "whenst I heard sumpin that sounded 'zactly like a 
 dawg a-whimperin'. Well I looked all 'round, but 
 I couldn't see no dawg an then I made up my mind 
 that 't wan't no dawg at all but somebody. Then 
 I just took to my heels for Miz Peggs's." 
 
 "War 't a dawg, Joan?" inquired one. 
 
 "Hit war no dawg," solemnly. 
 
 "Whenst I kem by," Joan went on, "I run right 
 into the house a-huntin an a-hollerin for Miz Pegg; 
 but I couldn't find hide nor hair of 'er an 
 all the time that turrible sound wuz a-goin on. Hit 
 sure war f earsum." 
 
 "War 't a ha'nt, Joan?" whispered another. 
 
 "Hit war no ha'nt," was the low reply. 
 
 "But mebbe 't war, Joan," persisted one, glancing 
 timorously about. 
 
 But Joan shook her head in negation. 
 
 "Well f or-the-lan's-sake ! Joan, what war 't 
 then?" cried Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "Hit war Mandy Pegg ! an" all work was sus- 
 pended, Joan's hearers hanging breathlessly upon 
 her forthcoming words "she war in the water- 
 bar'll!" 
 
 For the space of a few seconds dumb silence 
 reigned the women gazing blankly at each other. 
 Then "Did yuh say Mandy Pegg war in the water- 
 bar'll Joan?" somebody breathed.
 
 LINDY LOYD 209 
 
 "That's where she war in the water-bar'll!" 
 Joan reiterated, "just wedged in haid up an heels 
 up ; an if somebody hadn't a kem along, Miz 
 Pegg, she'd a been there right now daid!" An 
 just 'sposin that bar'll had been full of water ez 
 hit's a-spected to be?" Joan went on. "Even less 
 would a done 't"; and before the mental vision of 
 each woman passed the terrible picture. 
 
 "Go on, Joan go on " urged the women. 
 
 "I don't know 'zactly what happened next," said 
 Joan, "reckon I must have hollered right out, for 
 Miz Pegg, she half opened up her eyes an whenst 
 she see somebody had kem, she fainted daid a-ways." 
 
 "An then Joan " 
 
 "Then I tried to pull her out the bar'll. But she 
 had slid way down in, most to the bottom of 't 
 shut in there just like a jack-knife an I couldn't 
 move 'er. Then I wondered if I moughtn't break 
 the bar'll. I clar for 't yuh mought a thought 
 that such a thing as a axe had never been heard of 
 for I couldn't find nary a one anywheres ; 
 an Miz Pegg a-layin there a-dyin looked like." 
 
 "For-the-land's-sake ! Joan " 
 
 "A-sposin she had a died, whiles yuh war a-huntin 
 for that axe, Joan?" 
 
 "That war just hit !" cried Joan. "She certainly 
 looked plum' like death her eyes all sunk in 
 one of 'em anyways," she added, significantly. 
 
 "One of 'em, Joan why what "
 
 210 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Yep one of 'em! just that!" Joan insisted. 
 
 "Go on, Joan an then what " 
 
 Then I thought mebbe I could shake her out if 
 so be I could get the bar'll over. But 't war water- 
 soaked an had sunk way down into the ground an I 
 couldn't move 't. Reckon I must have gone clear 
 plum' crazy 'bout that time, for the next thing I 
 remember, I wuz way down at the turn of the road 
 a-wavin my apern an a hollerin over to Si Etters's." 
 
 "A-wavin* over to Si Etters," murmured Mrs. 
 Hicks. "Did Si kern, Joan?" 
 
 "Kem?" replied Joan, "he war there ez soon ez I 
 war ; an we-alls had that bar'll over an had begun to 
 pull Miz Pegg out whenst whenst whenst " 
 
 Here, Joan ceased her narration. Throwing her 
 apron over her face, she began to rock, violently. 
 
 "Go on Joan " importuned her hearers. 
 
 But Joan remained silent. 
 
 "Could't you-alls get Miz Pegg out that bar'll, 
 Joan?" demanded Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "Yep we-alls got 'er out got the most of 'er 
 out anyways " was the muffled reply. 
 
 "Got the most of 'er out " 
 
 "The most of 'er " and the women gazed ques- 
 tioningly at each other. 
 
 "Good-land-er-livin ! Joan go on with 't ! go on 
 with 't!" cried one. 
 
 "Joan go on, now !" commanded Mrs. Hicks, 
 "Hit ben't too bad to tell be 't?"
 
 LINDY LOYD 211 
 
 And Joan sat right up in her chair, yanked the 
 apron from her face and rattled off: "Me'n Si, we- 
 alls war a-gettin Miz Pegg out that bar'll just ez 
 careful ez could be whenst whenst her laig 
 hit kem right off" reiterating with thrilling em- 
 phasis, her hand extended in demonstration "hit 
 kem right off there in my hand!" 
 
 An awful silence succeeded this startling announce- 
 ment, every eye fixed in horror upon the narrator, 
 who, her apron again over her face, resumed her 
 rocking. 
 
 "Did did Joan say she pulled Miz Peggs's laig 
 off?" queried one, weakly, turning to her neighbor. 
 
 "She bodaciously did say that " 
 
 "For-the-land's-sake !" 
 
 "Reckon the hull thing have been too much for 
 Joan," breathed another. 
 
 "Reckon 't have. Joan 'peared sorta queer-like, 
 whenst she first kem in." 
 
 "That's so. Better hold some burnt feathers 
 under her nose if she's a-goin to faint " 
 
 "Give 'er some whiskey " 
 
 "Some right hot tea " 
 
 "Stick 'er feet into hot water " and the women 
 gathered solicitously around. 
 
 "Joan " and Mrs. Hicks placed her hand upon 
 Joan's shoulder, "d' yuh know what's hit yer been 
 a-sayin? 'bout a-pullin Miz Pegg's laig off? 
 get a holt of yerself now," sternly.
 
 212 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "I bodaciously do know what I been a-saying," 
 Joan burst forth, indignantly, "an I don't want no 
 whiskey nor tea nor hot water nor burnt 
 feathers an I ben't queer-like, nuther ; Hit war 
 plum' 'zactly ez I have said!" And the women gazed 
 at each other, silenced. 
 
 "What kind of a laig have Miz Pegg got, Joan?" 
 Mrs. Hicks inquired, meekly. 
 
 "Hit be wooden." 
 
 "Wooden " in varying intonations. 
 
 "Of course I dropped my end of Miz Pegg I 
 war that upset," Joan went on, "an Si Etter, he war 
 so scairt up a-seein what I had in my hand 
 that he all but dropped his end of 'er, too ; an he 
 axed me did I think Miz Pegg's haid would kem off 
 a-meanin her wig. She do wear a wig, Brackie," 
 Joan added. 
 
 "That's just what I thought," cried Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "Go on Joan go on " urged the women. 
 
 "Hit certainly war no time for foolin an me'n Si, 
 we just worked ez hard ez we could with Miz Pegg. 
 Si, he got a leetle whiskey down her throat an whenst 
 I see she war a-gettin ready to kem to, we-alls car- 
 ried 'er into the house." 
 
 "A laig an a wig an that ain't a-sayin a word 
 'bout teeth, I 'spose, Joan " gasped one. 
 
 "Nope an that ain't all, yet," cried Joan. 
 
 "Joan, yuh ben't a-hintin that some more of 
 Mandy Pegg war a-missin be yuh?" protested 
 Mrs. Hicks.
 
 LINDY LOYD 213 
 
 "Oh go on, Joan we-alls can stand anything 
 now," chuckled another. 
 
 "Well Si, he'd just been a-givin Miz Pegg some 
 more whiskey whenst her eyes, they flew open an 
 well I all but dropped that cup of whiskey, 
 an Si Etter, he just swore; he swore tur- 
 'ble. 'Joan,' he sez sorta solemn-like 'Miz 
 Pegg, she haven't got but one eye' sez he ; an 
 his own war ez big ez saucers." 
 
 " 'No more she haven't' sez I." 
 
 And the women sat, spell-bound. 
 
 Presently a faint voice broke the silence: "Joan, 
 yuh ben't a-tellin we-alls that Miz Pegg, she haven't 
 got but one eye?" 
 
 "That's what I bodaciously be a-tellin yuh," Joan 
 replied. 
 
 "One eye ! that do top 't all !" 
 
 "Hit do that !" 
 
 "Well Joan you-uns must have kem to the 
 last now " 
 
 "Pore Mandy Pegg " 
 
 "Yep if she'd only kept herself a leetle more 
 quiet more like folkses now " 
 
 "Well I, for one, should think Mandy Pegg'd 
 be willin now, to go back to where she kem from," 
 declared Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "Wouldn't yuh?" 
 
 "What bekem of Si Etter, Joan?" cried one. 
 
 "Went out that door like a shot off a shovel," Joan 
 replied.
 
 214 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "An I should think he mought," agreed another. 
 
 "Afeerd to stay any longer most likely," sug- 
 gested a third. 
 
 "What'd Si think of 't all, Joan?" inquired Mrs. 
 Hicks. 
 
 "He didn't say," dryly. 
 
 "What war the fust thing Mandy Pegg said 
 whenst she kem to?" Mrs. Hicks persisted, her 
 speculative gaze upon Joan. 
 
 "Asked for 'er b'longins." 
 
 "Good - land - er - livin ! Joan why where 
 where " 
 
 "They's in the bottom of the bar'll," laconically. 
 
 "An did you-uns have to hunt 'em out, Joan?" 
 
 "I bodaciously did ! an I laid 'em all out on the 
 chair, one by one. By that time 't had got so queer, 
 like, that I had to get out of the house, too just 
 like Si Etter ; an I think I'll see the real Mandy Pegg 
 to the end of my days. I laughed an I cried all the 
 ways up yere. But I war just 'bliged to kem if 't 
 war late," Joan added. 
 
 "An I sure am moughty glad you-uns kem up. 
 Joan," cried one. 
 
 "Me, too. Wouldn't a-missed 't for nuthin !" 
 
 "Me, nuther!" 
 
 "Nor me ! We've had a great time, Joan." 
 
 "Huccome Miz Pegg, she war in that water- 
 bar'll anyways, Joan? yuh forgot to tell us 
 that," inquired Mrs. Hicks.
 
 LINDY LOYD 215 
 
 "Pears like she'd laid a board across the top an 
 clumb up on 't to fix the water-drip ; an whenst she 
 sat down on the board to slide back on the ground, 
 the board, hit broke an in she went." 
 
 "But think of 't ! A laig an a wig an 'er eye 
 an teeth !" chorused the women. 
 
 And with merry jests and hearty good wishes for 
 the bride-to-be, they departed.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE wandering colporteur, sent out for the dis- 
 tribution of Bibles and religious literature, 
 appears to hve been the pioneer in missionary 
 effort for the mountaineer. 
 
 Later, an effort for more systematic evangeliza- 
 tion was made and the circuit-rider, a clergyman 
 appointed to certain districts, was sent out. 
 
 With his Bible, hymn-book and sermons secured 
 in his saddle-bags (together with certain recognized 
 medicaments for diseases of the body) the circuit- 
 rider passed over his route, visiting the sick and 
 dying, encouraging the faint-hearted, denouncing 
 the sinning, uniting in wedlock and, not infrequently, 
 delivering a long overdue funeral sermon ; for, as has 
 been intimated, the mountaineer's ideas regarding the 
 proper time for the last-named function are ex- 
 ceedingly elastic. According to his conception a 
 funeral and a burying are two very distinct mat- 
 ters the former entirely conformable to conven- 
 ience. As can be readily understood, the arrival of 
 the "rider" within a given locality was an event ; im- 
 portant matters being timed thereto. 
 
 The following Sunday, therefore, found the little 
 church-house filled with a quiet, attentive congrega- 
 
 216
 
 LINDY LOYD 217 
 
 tion. At the close of the service and in accord- 
 ance with the general expectation Evie Tuttle and 
 her lover were "jined." 
 
 Early the next day Mrs. Hicks appeared in Joan's 
 kitchen. "What war that queer noise in the church- 
 house, yesterday?" she inquired as she settled her- 
 self comfortably before the hearth, "I don't mean 
 the babby nor yit the dawg ; but that first noise 
 of all? the one that started up all the other'ns, 
 I reckon." 
 
 "Yuh'd never believe what !" snorted Joan. 
 
 "Hit didn't sound like folkses nor yit like a 
 beastis not 'zactly ; don't know's I ever heard 
 any noise just like 't," Mrs. Hicks continued. 
 
 "Don't reckon yuh ever did hear anything like 't 
 nor nobody else did nuther, for that matter," 
 sniffed Joan. 
 
 "Well I war just a-dozin off, Joan an I clar 
 for 't I just set right up an " 
 
 Joan chuckled. "Uncle Dave, he set straight up, 
 too, Brackie. Did yuh see 'im?" 
 
 "Nope I didn't see 'im." 
 
 "Well he did then; an he peered 'round so 
 scairt so queer like; just as if he war 
 a-spectin" and Joan glanced quickly around, her 
 voice lowered "a-spectin to see a ha'nt," she added. 
 
 "What war 't, Joan, anyways?" 
 
 "Hit war a whole lot of things ; but first an 
 foremost, hit war Mitry Loyd."
 
 218 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Mitry ! war he a-chokin, Joan?" 
 
 "Nope he wan't a-chokin." 
 
 "War he took like cramps or " 
 
 "Nope he wan't took none." 
 
 "Well then hit do beat me ! What got up 
 with Mitry Joan?" Mrs. Hicks demanded. 
 
 "Hit was a sneeze, Brackie ; leastways that's 
 what hit wuz meant to be an wuzri't" Joan added, 
 significantly. 
 
 "A sneeze ! didn't sound like any sneeze I ever 
 heerd. Ben't Mitry 's nose all right, Joan?" 
 
 "I never heerd that 't wuz'nt," dryly. "But I 
 ain't a-blamin yuh none for askin, Brackie." 
 
 "Then what war Mitry a-tryin to do Joan 
 anyways?" austerely. 
 
 "That's hit that's just hit!" Joan burst forth. 
 "The church-house, hit be no place to try experi- 
 ments in a-scarin everybody up, so ; an that's 
 'zactly what I told Mitry Loyd. Instead of a-takin 
 a good, comfortable sneeze, just like other folkses, 
 Mitry, he got a notion into his knot that by holdin 
 his mouth shut an a-shuttin of his breath, he could 
 shut off that sneeze. Well Brackie you-uns 
 heard just 'zactly how much he shut 't off," Joan 
 concluded, expressively. 
 
 "Yep, I heerd." 
 
 "Hit sounded like nuthin human that I ever heerd 
 ever! an I war that scairt I jumped plum' up off 
 the bench. Sallie Crum, she war settin there along-
 
 LINDY LOYD 219 
 
 side of me," gurgled Joan, "an she must have been 
 a-dozin, too, for up she jumped an started to holler; 
 an 'er babby, hit all but rolled off her lap, Brackie; 
 
 Sallie just did make out to grab 't by the laig 
 ez 't war a-goin down. Of course the babby, hit hol- 
 lered an then Hen, he swore. Good-land ! Brackie 
 
 how Hen Crum can swear yuh wouldn't 
 b'lieve. Just 'bout that time somebody else 
 scairt up, too, most likely must have got onto 
 that dawg's tail an there yuh are. 'Spose the 
 pore beastis didn't feel called upon to put up with 
 folkses a-walkin all over 't. But 't war bodaciously 
 funny 'round there for awhiles, Brackie." 
 
 "Hit be scandalous, Joan plum' scandalous ! 
 a-laughin so in the church-house," Mrs. Hicks burst 
 forth. "Just shut yer eyes " 
 
 "Just shut my eyes?" shrilled Joan. "Well 
 then Brack I had 'em shut ; an just so's not 
 to see old Mam Kane a-carryin on. Did you-uns 
 see 'er?" 
 
 "Nope I didn't see Miz Kane," stiffly. 
 
 "Well she war something to see ; a-smilin, an 
 a-noddin, an a-workin 'er mouth 'zactly like the 
 preacher, he wuz a-doin. Hit war too much for me. 
 An just whenst I'd got myself quiet, like 'long 
 kerns Mitry with his yawp," Joan concluded, aggriev- 
 edly. 
 
 "What be the matter with Lindy, Joan?" Mrs. 
 Hicks inquired, presently. "I set there in the church-
 
 220 LINDY LOYD 
 
 house yesterday a-watchin 'er; an I clar for 't, she 
 war that white an laggy " 
 
 "Mebbe Lindy, she didn't sleep none too good, Sat- 
 urday night," Joan evaded. 
 
 "An 'er eyes, they's that big an black," Mrs. Hicks 
 persisted, "an she never moved never took them 
 eyes aways from Evie an Jim, whenst they's 
 a-standin up 'fore the preacher. Miz Rogan, she 
 war a-axin me what war the matter with Lindy 
 an an she 'lowed she hoped Hass would soon be 
 out," Mrs. Hicks added, significantly, her eyes glued 
 upon Joan. 
 
 Joan made no reply. 
 
 "I didn't sleep much last night, nuther," Mrs. 
 Hicks went on. 
 
 "Hit wan't ha'nts war 't, Brackie?" with a 
 quick glance around. 
 
 "Don't know what 't war. Hit be sure lonesome 
 up there, Joan these yere days," Mrs. Hicks burst 
 forth. 
 
 "Where be yer dawg?" 
 
 "A dawg couldn't keep the ha'nts away, Joan." 
 
 "Nope a dawg couldn't keep the ha'nts away. 
 Be you-uns afeerd, Brackie?" 
 
 "Not 'zactly afeerd; an mebbe 't ain't ha'nts. 
 The dawg, he air good 'nough an I can get erlong 
 if so be the ha'nts they'll stay aways" glancing 
 over her shoulder; "but since 't have got so froze 
 up, I listen sometimes for the wild things to
 
 LINDY LOYD 221 
 
 kem 'round for sumpin to eat ; else else 't be 
 ha'nts. Hit sure do be sumpin, Joan." 
 
 And the two women were silent, each mind occupied 
 with one of the familiar but not on that account, 
 acceptable phases of the mountaineer's life. 
 
 "Be yuh sure, now Brackie, there be no hole nor 
 place where a hole could be made anywhere 'round 
 yer house? That cat of old Granny Pegg's, now 
 hit air the meanest, most perseverin' beastis a-livin ; 
 an I 'spose if a cat could get in, sumpin else 
 mought, mebbe." 
 
 "Sumpin else mought get in Good-land-er-livin ! 
 Joan. Reckon I'd better get to hum an peer 'round 
 'fore 't gets dark." And Mrs. Hicks hurried away. 
 
 "Bring yer dawg into the house, tonight, Brackie," 
 Joan called. 
 
 "Yep I will." 
 
 "Mitry," cried Joan that night, "I be clear plum* 
 worried 'bout Lindy." 
 
 Mitry made no reply but his mouth settled into 
 grimmer lines. 
 
 "Lindy, she's a-worryin 'bout something that's 
 sure," Joan went on, "an yarb-tea won't help worryin 
 none. She ain't eatin 'nough to keep a bird alive, 
 nuther ; an she ain't a-sleepin good. Mitry Loyd, 
 the first thing we-alls knows, Lindy, she'll be down in 
 the baid with a spell of fever." 
 
 Mitry swore, softly. 
 
 "Did you-uns see 'er, yesterday in the church-
 
 222 LINDY LOYD 
 
 house, whenst Evie and Jim war a-standin up 'fore 
 the preacher?" 
 
 "Yep I see 'er," Mitry replied, bitterly. 
 
 "Well she looked just like a poor leetle white 
 ghost, Mitry, a poor leetle "white ghost a-settin up 
 there with them sorrowful eyes fixed 'pon " 
 
 "Hit be that Hass ! that devil Hass!" burst 
 forth Mitry ; and he paced the floor, his eyes blazing. 
 
 "What's hit, Mitry what have Hass done? I 
 a-spected he war in 't." 
 
 "That's 'zactly what I can't find out, Joan 
 just what I don't know. I wish to God I did !" Mitry 
 groaned. "Cita, she air a-grievin 'er heart out over 
 that young 'Umphreys ; an Hass the low-down 
 skunk he air at the bottom of 't ; that much I 
 know. An if so be I could get my two hands enter 
 'im I'd soon find out the rest damn 'im !" Mitry 
 ground out through set teeth.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 WINTER was abroad in the forest. The trees, 
 stripped and bare, shivered in the icy wind ; 
 frozen twigs and branches snapped and 
 crackled beneath one's tread; the rocks rose naked 
 and cold, the lifeless vines rattling at their feet. Deep 
 down beneath the frozen surface, tucked carefully 
 away, the countless children of the forest lay sleep- 
 ing. Hidden within the embrace of the trees, within 
 the caves and secret places of the mountains, the 
 forest-dwellers lay dormant, all awaiting Nature's 
 command to come forth. 
 
 But the forest was still beautiful. Above the deli- 
 cate tracery of the bare branches stretched the blue 
 sky. Mingled with its clear tint were the ever-chang- 
 ing blues of the mountains so darkly blue in the 
 distance melting to tender greys, then changing 
 to black in the shadows ; nearer earth were the som- 
 ber colors of the rocks and the soft browns of the 
 dead verdure. 
 
 Everywhere were stately evergreens and the shin- 
 ing holly and laurel. From the frozen sod arose the 
 hardy galax, its glossy green leaves changed to a 
 rich, russet-brown ; while directly underfoot could be 
 found the running-cedar, the wintergreen and the 
 
 188
 
 224 LINDY LOYD 
 
 partridge-berry. To the ear came the tinkle, tinkle, 
 tinkle of the mountain stream rushing between ice 
 fringed banks and, occasionally, a stray bird-note. 
 
 Within the little community day succeeded day 
 with quiet monotony, the hours filled with the em- 
 ployments of the season. For the women, an occa- 
 sional "quiltin'," a "carpet-rag" party, a "candle- 
 dippin' " or a "visitin'," might vary the uniformity 
 of daily life, but, ordinarily, the time passed un- 
 eventfully enough. 
 
 For the men there were the usual winter pursuits : 
 logs to be hewn for spring repairing and building, 
 new ground to be cleared and not of least con- 
 sideration hunting. Small pelts brought good 
 prices in the market; these, together with an occa- 
 sional larger skin, formed quite a source of revenue 
 for the hunter. For recreation, there were gather- 
 ings for feats of skill bouts at jumping, wrestling, 
 shooting and various pastimes; not forgetting a 
 very occasional "preachin'," a "country-dance" and 
 the ever seasonable "courtin'." 
 
 About this time Hass Hicks succeeded in making 
 his escape from jail severely wounding an officer, 
 who died soon after. Hass was now a marked man 
 in the eyes of the law. Not only was he recognized as 
 a moonshiner and a desperate character, generally, 
 but he was now a murderer as well. The final result 
 could be foreseen : Hass was recaptured. Incarcerated 
 anew, he awaited his trial for murder.
 
 LINDY LOYD 225 
 
 With the escape of Hass from jail, Lindy's health 
 gave way utterly. To the distressing conditions 
 already surrounding her was added the burden of 
 fear; and the girl lived in constant dread of Hass's 
 sometime appearance and the assertion of his lawful 
 claims. If she could but have shared the terrible load. 
 But, alas she could not. Her promise had been 
 given and she would keep it. At the time of Mass's 
 recapture Lindy, tossing in wild delirium, was pass- 
 ing anew through the painful experiences of the past. 
 "I cannot tell you, Hugh I cannot Oh, Daddy 
 
 Daddy if I only could Because I had to, 
 Hugh yes I had to I had to I had to " 
 or starting up, her eyes fixed and wild, "and if I 
 don't, Hass you'll Oh, Daddy and Hugh 
 Daddy and Hugh Daddy and Hugh Oh I 
 loathe him I loathe him " on and on in endless 
 reiteration went the tired voice; and Mitry, heart- 
 broken, watched by her bed. 
 
 Entering the room upon one occasion, Joan found 
 Mitry standing white and tense in the middle of the 
 floor, his eyes glued upon Lindy's "marriage-lines." 
 
 Without a word Mitry handed the paper to Joan 
 
 and suddenly his step and bearing had become that 
 of an old man. White, speechless, the two faced each 
 other. 
 
 "Where " Joan gasped. 
 Mitry pointed to the floor. 
 "The blarsted hound ! so that war hit? God !
 
 226 LINDY LOYD 
 
 my leetle gal my leetle gal " he panted. And 
 Mitry dropped upon his knees and bent over the 
 emaciated little figure. 
 
 "Hit air beyond all bearin, Joan," he blazed, 
 springing to his feet. "Why why she have been 
 a-f eared ! Cita have been a-feared, Joan ! I'll 
 I'll my God ! what " and Mitry gesticulated, 
 wildly. 
 
 "Mitry," said Joan, and her tears fell fast, "I for 
 one, be perfectly willing to leave the Almighty to 
 deal with Hass in this. Hit be a matter far beyond 
 any human settlement." 
 
 The days passed and Lindy lay, worn and wasted. 
 At times the agonizing story would begin again 
 told alas, in whispers, now. But for the most part 
 the girl lay quiet, her sweet 4if e ebbing away. 
 
 "She has something on her mind some fear is 
 pursuing her," declared the specialist whom Mitry 
 in his desperation had persuaded to come. "There 
 may be an interval of consciousness I say there 
 may be. It is barely possible. If such an interval 
 should occur " he continued and he gazed 
 straight into Mitry's anguished eyes "and it could 
 be taken advantage of in just the right way, this 
 fear removed, the mind set at rest and natural sleep 
 should follow well I don't know " and he 
 turned away "there might be a chance for her. I 
 say there might be," he reiterated, impressively. 
 "Otherwise " and the great man took his de- 
 parture.
 
 LINDY LOYD 227 
 
 The Doctor's words appealed with especial sig- 
 nificance to Mitry. As has been said, the tie existing 
 between Lindy and her father was particularly close 
 and endearing. Had he not always helped her, 
 shielded her, cherished her? If, therefore, human aid 
 was essential in the coming crisis if crisis there 
 were who could proffer it better than he? who, 
 better through God's great mercy could stay 
 perhaps call back the wandering, wavering 
 soul from the borders of Eternity? And with grim 
 determination Mitry set himself to do battle with 
 the Destroyer. "God Almighty send we can win 
 out send we can win out?" he pleaded. 
 
 There came a time when to the watcher beside the 
 bed it appeared as if Death might already have 
 claimed the girl so motionless she lay so faint 
 and uncertain her respiration. Stilling his anguish 
 Mitry waited, tense and quiet, his whole soul engaged 
 in the struggle. 
 
 Presently, with a little fluttering breath, the heavy 
 lids slowly lifted and Lindy gazed, half uncon- 
 sciously, into her father's face. "God Almighty 
 send we can win out " breathed Mitry in this su- 
 preme moment. 
 
 "Yer Daddy's yere, Cita " Mitry's voice was 
 low and steady and his eyes held hers. "Listen, Cita, 
 as the look of intelligence deepened, "Daddy, he 
 knows all 'bout 't now he knows 'bout all of 't, 
 Cita. An Hass he be back in the jail-house."
 
 228 LINDY LOYD 
 
 And Mitry gently lifted the pale little hand within 
 his reassuring clasp. 
 
 Into the beautiful eyes crept a look of comprehen- 
 sion, and with a soft breath of relief, Lindy slept.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 THE days passed, each bringing its quota of 
 added strength and Lindy crept slowly back 
 to life. No small factor in her recovery was 
 the relief afforded by the removal of secrecy and of 
 the immediate fear of Hass. 
 
 The impression left upon Lindy by her enforced 
 marriage was that of unreality and of loathing. Of 
 Hass, as the miserable author of her griefs, she re- 
 fused to think. But deep within her innermost being, 
 an experience too dear, too sacred to be shared, were 
 enshrined the memories of Hugh Humphreys. 
 
 So the winter hastened by and the girl gradually 
 recovered health and strength. 
 
 One morning in the early spring, Mitry entered 
 the kitchen and glanced cautiously about. "That 
 dad-blarsted skunk, he have broke jail again, Joan!" 
 he announced in a low voice. "Hass, he air a-hidin 
 out." And the two gazed inquiringly at each other. 
 
 "Well " replied Joan. 
 
 "Wisht Lindy, she didn't have to heern tell of 't 
 didn't have to know nuthin 'tall 'bout 't; an she 
 hadn't ought to be left alone 't all, now, Joan." 
 
 "Nope Lindy hadn't ought to be left alone," 
 Joan agreed. "There's Brackie she'll tell " 
 
 229
 
 230 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Reckon she will. The widder now Joan 
 she ain't never said nuthin to you-uns 'bout Lindy an 
 Hass a-bein jined have she?" 
 
 "Nope." 
 
 "Then Hass, he air a-keepin his mouth shut 'bout 
 that damn 'im ! Well Joan reckon we-alls 
 can take keer of Lindy," Mitry concluded, grimly, 
 his hand unconsciously seeking his pistol. 
 
 "Mitry Loyd," cautioned Joan, "you-uns don't 
 want Hass's blood on yer soul noways! 'spe- 
 cially since the law, hit have jined 'im to Lindy !" 
 
 "I won't have Hass Hicks a-kemin 'round yere, 
 none," exploded Mitry. 
 
 "Mebbe, now, they-alls'll catch 'im soon, again," 
 Joan soothed. 
 
 "No such luck," muttered Mitry. "Rufe Kane, he 
 said that Hass'd had a plum' good start this yere 
 time broke out in the night; an if a feller has a 
 good start well there be places, you-uns knows 
 that, Joan." 
 
 "Yep I knows that. 'Pears like Hass, he had 
 'nough sense to wait 'till the snow war all off the 
 ground, Mitry." 
 
 "Huh !" Mitry snorted. 
 
 "Hass, he be a poor doomed feller, anyways yuh 
 can fix 't, Mitry whether he air to fall by the hand 
 of man or by the Almighty," Joan went on. "From 
 what I can heern tell, Hass, he be most daid, right 
 now. Hit takes a strong feller to hide-out, Mitry."
 
 LINDY LOYD 231 
 
 "Such varmints b'long in the jail-house, anyways," 
 Mitry persisted. 
 
 "Well you-uns have got to keep yer hands off 
 this yere time, anyways, Mitry." 
 
 "Mebbe so mebbe so, Joan ! but we-alls have got 
 to watch out an Lindy, she don't want to be left 
 alone never!" Mitry reiterated. 
 
 "We-alls'll watch out, Mitry." 
 
 Since Lindy's recovery, all mention of Hass Hicks 
 had, by common consent, been carefully avoided ; and 
 her marriage owing to its seeming unreality, and 
 the girl's utter indifference to the instigator of it 
 appeared to have passed into oblivion. Nevertheless, 
 the hated fact, together with an unspoken dread of 
 Hass's possible claims, remained ever present. 
 
 Shortly after this conversation Mrs. Hicks came 
 hurrying over. "Have you-uns heern tell 'bout Hass, 
 Joan?" she cried. 
 
 "Yep I've heern, Brackie. Don't worry bout 
 't." 
 
 But Mrs. Hicks had flung her apron over her face 
 and was sobbing: "He'll die, Joan he'll die cer- 
 tain, out there on the mountain ! An them mis'ble 
 doves," she went on, irrelevantly, "they's been 
 a-settin there on my trees for the last two days just 
 a-moanin' an a-moanin' an a-moanin' 'till 
 they've nigh 'bout drove me plum' crazy. I just 
 knowed sumpin war a-goin to happen." 
 
 "Shucks ! Brackie, them doves, they've got nuthin 't
 
 232 LINDY LOYD 
 
 all to do with 't ; an Hass, he can take keer of 
 himself, anyways." 
 
 "But Hass, he ben't able to hide-out, Joan; 
 he's just a-coughin' an a-coughin' all the time an 
 so thin an weak, like. Yuh don't know, Joan yuh 
 don't know." 
 
 "Mebbe, now, hit won't be so bad, Brackie ; an 
 there's 'bliged to be warmer weather 'fore long, now." 
 
 "Sposen he gets sick, Joan out there on the 
 mountain all alone?" 
 
 "Well Hite, he'll watch out for 'im ; reckon 
 Hite, he knows 'bout where to find 'im, Brackie." 
 
 "Yep reckon he do." 
 
 "An the folkses, they-alls won't let 'im starve; 
 an you-uns can get sumpin up to 'im, too, Brackie. 
 Oh, shucks ! there be plenty of ways to take keer of 
 Hass," cried Joan, bent upon cheering her com- 
 panion. 
 
 Owing to the bitter, long-existing feud regarding 
 moonshining, it is perhaps inevitable that the moun- 
 taineers, generally speaking, should be united in a 
 common cause against the law. Be that as it may, 
 it is quite the customary thing for the fugitive from 
 justice flying to the shelter of the mountains 
 to be aided and abetted by them in every way pos- 
 sible. Food and various necessities may be found 
 deposited in perfectly unexpected places ; the bend- 
 ing of a twig in a contrary direction, or some 
 equally simple displacement of Nature's arrange-
 
 LINDY LOYD 233 
 
 ments, serving as a sufficient indication to the 
 initiated of sustentation near at hand. Given the 
 necessary physique, not too rigorous a season and 
 time enough to reach one of Nature's fastnesses, and 
 a criminal can quite successfully "hide-out" and 
 eventually succeed in evading the clutches of the law. 
 
 "Hass, he ben't a-goin to live long, anyways, Joan. 
 I ain't said anything 'bout 't but I mought ez 
 well, now," and Mrs. Hicks wiped away the tears. "I 
 see that, the last time I wuz up to the jail-house ; 
 an I war a gettin what comfort I could a-thinkin he 
 war likely to die peac'bly, up there, in his baid 
 stidder stidder that other way ; but now to 
 starve mebbe to freeze to death " and the poor 
 mother rocked in her misery. "He be all I got ! 
 Oh, my Lord my Lord if he could only die in 
 his baid " she moaned. 
 
 "Mebbe the Almighty, He means Hass to die in 
 his baid, Brackie." 
 
 "I don't see how now, Joan." 
 
 "Nor me nuther. But that makes no difference. 
 You-uns mought ask, Brackie," gently. 
 
 "Yep I mought do that," and the two were 
 silent. 
 
 "Hit do beat all how the Spring be a-kemin on," 
 Joan cried, cheerily. "Did you-uns hear the frogs 
 a-hollerin last night, Brackie?" 
 
 "Yep an the black-birds, they be a-hollerin, 
 too ; an the robins, an the blue-birds, an oh
 
 234 LINDY LOYD 
 
 all of 'em! they's just a-flockin 'round," responded 
 Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 "An the willers, they be a-turnin green, 
 Brackie " 
 
 "An the ground, hit war kivered with worms, yes- 
 terday, an you-uns knows what that means, Joan." 
 
 "An did you-uns hear the thunder, the other night, 
 Brackie? That means the snakes, they be a-turnin' 
 over, too," Joan added, mischieviously. 
 
 "Snakes !" and Mrs. Hicks shuddered. 
 
 "I see Si Etter, yesterday, Joan, an he sure do look 
 mis'ble. That niece of his she have gone back hum 
 an the pore feller air a-livin there all by hisself. I 
 clar for 't," turning to her companion, "there be no 
 man on the face of God's earth ez can get 'long com- 
 fort'bly all alone. Hit be plum against nature." 
 
 Joan made no reply. 
 
 "Well " Mrs. Hicks went on, "if Si Etter don't 
 take keer of hisself, he'll be down fast in his baid ; 
 looks like he be ready for 't, right now." 
 
 "Mebbe, now, Si's a-sorrowin 'cause Aunt Polly, 
 she be daid," Joan suggested, ^sweetly. 
 
 Mrs. Hicks turned and looked at Joan. "Eh 
 what's that? what's that, yuh said?" she de- 
 manded. 
 
 "Mebbe Si, he's a-sorrowin 'cause Aunt Polly, she 
 be daid," repeated Joan. "Mebbe that's what's 
 a-ailin 'im." 
 
 "Why of course ! of course, now, that be hit,"
 
 LINDY LOYD 235 
 
 cried Mrs. Hicks, elated at Joan's unwonted and 
 kindly recognition of Si Etter. "We-alls knows just 
 what a good, kind-hearted feller " 
 
 "I war just a-sayin Brackie," Joan persisted, 
 coolly, "that Si, he war a-sorrowin just 'cause he 
 wan't nuthin like so comfortable ez he used to be 
 now that Aunt Polly, she be gone; that's what I said. 
 Reckon Si Etter, he ben't a-sorrowin for nuthin 
 else," she added, wickedly. 
 
 "Eh what what?" stammered Mrs. Hicks, 
 gazing doubtfully at her companion. Then Joan's 
 perversity finally dawning upon her "What have 
 that pore feller done to yuh anyways, Joan, that 
 yuh can never have a kind word for 'im?" she burst 
 forth, angrily. 
 
 But Joan maintained a discreet silence.
 
 THERE came a night when Lindy was again 
 alone. 
 
 Early that morning, Mitry, with his dog 
 and gun, had started up the mountain. Later in the 
 day a heavy wind-storm had set in, increasing in 
 violence as the darkness fell. 
 
 In the intervals between the blasts one could hear 
 the wind, like a thing of evil, creeping stealthily 
 about the cabin, seeking entrance. Suddenly, shriek- 
 ing with rage, it would swoop down, seize the tene- 
 ment in fierce embrace, shake it to its very founda- 
 tion and barely releasing it retire, muttering 
 threats of future demolition. 
 
 But all was peace and cheer within. 
 
 "The Lord have mercy on the pore soul ez has no 
 kiver over his haid this night," cried Joan, "hit cer- 
 tainly do be fearsum." 
 
 "Oh but I love the storm, Aunt Joan ! it is so 
 big so masterf ul-like !" 
 
 "Mitry, he ought to be in soon, now," remarked 
 Joan, placing his supper upon the hearth. 
 
 "Maybe Daddy won't come down ; maybe he'll 
 stay up there with the men, tonight." 
 
 236
 
 LINDY LOYD 237 
 
 "He'll kem down," Joan replied. "There 
 now " as a step was heard outside. 
 
 But it proved to be Rufus Kane, anxious-eyed and 
 breathless. "Can you-uns kem over quick, Joan?" 
 he burst forth, "the leetle feller he have been took 
 bad again an Becky, she wants yuh ! she wants 
 yuh bad, Joan." 
 
 "Oh Ruf e ! if Mitry war yere Lindy's alone 
 an " began Joan, torn between the instincts of 
 common humanity and Mitry's express orders. 
 
 "But Aunt Joan I've stayed alone, often I'm 
 never afraid never ! and Daddy's likely to get in 
 at any moment, now," cried Lindy. 
 
 "Becky she 'peared to be a-f eared the leetle 
 feller'd choke 'fore we-uns could get back, Joan " 
 Rufe muttered. 
 
 "Oh, hurry Aunt Joan, hurry !" Lindy urged. 
 Filled with misgivings, yet unable to refuse, Joan 
 hurried away with Rufus. 
 
 Later, her father still absent, Lindy sought her bed 
 and fell peacefully asleep. 
 
 Fury and tumult were abroad on the mountain. 
 The wind had become rampant. Like a wicked 
 spirit it raged hither and thither seeking, devouring, 
 shouting in demoniac glee. The trees, shuddering, 
 moaning, bent at the cruel onslaughts, bits of wreck- 
 age flying before his fierce breath. Overhead, the 
 jagged, black clouds hurried tumultuously on. The
 
 238 LINDY LOYD 
 
 moon, careening wildly, peered dimly through the 
 broken mass upon the mad havoc below. 
 
 Ah ! was that a shadow some wreck of the 
 forest carried before the gale? 
 
 Alas, no ! The moon, breaking suddenly through 
 the clouds, proclaimed it a human wreck, battling 
 feebly with the storm. 
 
 Wasted, gasping, well-nigh overcome in the un- 
 equal struggle, Hass upheld by the consuming de- 
 sire to see again the one love of his life had come 
 down from the mountain. Crouching under some 
 overhanging rock, creeping furtively from tree to 
 tree, listening, peering, watching the shadows, scan- 
 ning each doubtful place for a hidden foe, he had 
 stumbled along ; the watchword : "Lindy leetle 
 Lindy," ever on his feverish lips. 
 
 Hass knew that Lindy was alone. On his way 
 down, early that morning, the hunters had passed 
 him and he had gathered from their conversation 
 that a long trip was in prospect that Mitry, in 
 all probability, would return late that night if at 
 all, now that the storm had so increased. Later, 
 watching from his shelter, he became aware of Rufe's 
 emergency and of Joan's response ; had heard 
 Lindy's gay "good night" and, presently, all sound 
 and movement having ceased in the cabin, knew that 
 the girl had sought repose. 
 
 Evidently the time was opportune. And why not 
 anyway? he meditated. Lindy was his wife. He
 
 LINDY LOYD 239 
 
 had every right. By this time she would have ac- 
 cepted the fact of her marriage and have learned to 
 think of him kindly. So he reasoned; and sud- 
 denly, overcome by the thought that the desire of his 
 heart was at last to be gratified, that he was to look 
 once more into the face of the girl he loved so pas- 
 sionately, Hass sank trembling to the ground. 
 
 Strange that he should be in such a weakened con- 
 dition continuing his meditations. Certainly he 
 was very tired, also worn with his long hiding-out 
 
 with the exposure and privations it had entailed, 
 but this . And of course he was famished. God ! 
 
 when had he tasted a good meal and Hass 
 cursed, quietly. Then this cough ! as a terrible 
 paroxysm intervened. 
 
 After a while, Hass staggered weakly to his feet. 
 Gazing warily about, he crept nearer the cabin and 
 presently, watching an opportunity between the 
 blasts, he left his cover, darted across the open and 
 quietly entered the kitchen ; for a locked door is 
 a thing unknown to the mountaineer. 
 
 But the fact that he had at last reached his goal 
 that he was now beneath the same roof with the de- 
 sire of his heart together with the relief afforded 
 by the comforts of home spread before his longing 
 eyes : the fire upon the hearth, the supper beside it, 
 proved to be more than the wretched outcast could 
 immediately endure; and Hass was seized with an- 
 other attack of trembling and of weakness.
 
 240 LINDY LOYD 
 
 Presently, however, warmed and fed, Hass re- 
 vived. Crossing the kitchen, he noiselessly lifted the 
 latch of the adjoining room and stood for a moment 
 in the doorway. It was very still within, only the 
 girl's soft breathing broke the silence. 
 
 Lindy's room was dimly lighted and as Hass stood 
 peering within, some faint stirrings of his better na- 
 ture, a feeble comprehension of his utter unfitness to 
 enter so pure, so peaceful a retreat, was born within 
 him. But muttering, "I have the right I have the 
 right " Hass stole softly across the room and bent 
 over the sleeping girl. 
 
 "Lindy leetle Lindy " broke from his trem- 
 bling lips. "I didn't know she war so leetle," he 
 breathed, noting the slender shape beneath the cov- 
 erings, "why she be most like a babby a purty 
 babby!" and his eyes devoured the unconscious 
 sleeper. Again Hass was shaken with a fit of trem- 
 bling. "Curse 't curse 't" he whispered, cling- 
 ing to the side of the bed. 
 
 And Hass was right. Lindy, slight, fragile, not 
 yet fully recovered from her long illness, was like 
 some pretty child. It had been found necessary to 
 remove her hair during her illness and the new growth 
 lay in soft, curling rings all about her face; the 
 heavy lashes swept her cheek; her night-robe, 
 loosened at the throat, revealed the pure whiteness of 
 the flesh beneath ; one bare arm, perfect in contour, 
 was flung in graceful abandon above her head; and
 
 LINDY LOYD 241 
 
 with chin slightly uplifted, Lindy lay wrapped in 
 the deep, the all-embracing sleep of youth. 
 
 Presently, that fatal weakness again overcome, 
 Hass turned to find Lindy, her eyes wide with hor- 
 ror, dazedly regarding him. 
 
 Had it come true then the ever-present fear? 
 Was Hass even now, sitting beside her bed? Oh, 
 no ! it could not be. 
 
 "Lindy leetle Lindy " Hass panted, weakly. 
 
 Ah, then it was indeed true! this gaunt, 
 wild-eyed, white-faced specter was in very deed, Hass 
 her husband! and with every pulse hammering a 
 violent protest, Lindy closed her eyes and shrank 
 away. 
 
 "Lindy Lindy be you-uns a-hatin me yet?" 
 Hass cried, despairingly. "I had to kem, Lindy 
 I had to! Hit just got so bad that I had to see yuh 
 once more. So I crept down. Hit be queer" he 
 muttered "don't seem to 'member how I got yere, 
 though. Lindy leetle Lindy " he burst forth, 
 pleadingly, "say you-uns don't hate me any more ! 
 say 't, Lindy say 't! so I can have sumpin to 
 carry back up the mountain ; for I must be a good 
 ways up the trail 'fore the mornin', hit be yere," he 
 muttered. 
 
 But Lindy, struggling desperately with her fear, 
 was deaf to his plea. Oh she must be calm ! 
 she must get control ! surely she had need of all 
 her tact, her faculties, in this emergency.
 
 242 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Hit be turrible turrible Lindy, a-hidin- 
 out," Hass went on, "Nobody knows nobody 
 knows. Hit be bitter cold up on the mountain, too ; 
 an kem times whenst there be nuthin 't all to eat. 
 Mebbe yuh ben't able to get out to look for 't, nuther ; 
 dassent most likely ; an yuh just got to go 
 hongrey" ; and Hass leaned wearily forward, his head 
 supported in his hands. 
 
 "Kem times whenst yuh can't keep warm no- 
 ways" he continued, presently ; "whenst yuh das- 
 sent have no fire 'count of them tarnal revenoors ez 
 be always a-huntin yuh down damn' em ! An 
 lonesome God Almighty! how lonesome 't be, 
 Lindy! kem times whenst yuh can't stand 't any 
 longer whenst yuh don't keer whether they get 
 yer or not. An the hants ! the hants ! 
 Lindy," his voice sinking to a hoarse whisper. "A 
 feller, he gets to a-seein things ! a-seein things " 
 he reiterated, his gaze wild. "Reckon I been mis'ble 
 like yere lately ; mebbe that war hit," he added ; 
 and another fit of coughing racked the poor frame. 
 
 "But I be feelin fine, now, Lindy just fine," 
 Hass went on, with a ghastly attempt at cheerful- 
 ness. "An I ben't hongrey, now I found the sup- 
 per out there," indicating the kitchen, "an if 't 
 wuzn't for this pesky cough " 
 
 Hist ! Carried on the wind came a sound of 
 alarm. 
 
 "They's after me, Lindy they's after me!" Hass 
 panted.
 
 LINDY LOYD 243 
 
 "Listen " breathed the girl ; and in the tense 
 silence they caught the echo of a far-away shout. 
 
 "Oh where where is there no place, Hass? 
 - the loft " 
 
 "I won't be caught like a rat in a trap damn 
 J em !" Hass exploded. 
 
 Again the sound of alarm a peculiar, long- 
 drawn-out note. 
 
 "The blood-hounds ! Hit be the blood-hounds, 
 Lindy ! God ! they's a-trackin me !" and Hass 
 shook his clenched fist, impotently. 
 
 "Oh, go ! hurry, Hass hurry ! I will not 
 have you caught " Lindy urged, frantically. 
 
 "Lemme kiss you-uns good-by, then, Lindy on 
 yer mouth!" Hass demanded. "I never have kissed 
 you-uns that a-ways, yet ! never not once!" 
 
 "Oh, Hass do you have to?" breathed the girl, 
 shrinking in dismay. 
 
 "I will kiss you-uns, Lindy I will I say ! I 
 have the right " 
 
 But Lindy made no reply her staring eyes fixed 
 upon his. 
 
 "Lindy leetle Lindy not yet ? yuh won't 
 kiss me, yet?" Hass cried, despair and anger in his 
 voice. "Well then lemme kiss yuh there! 
 right there! I never see anything so white an 
 purty," indicating the girl's throat. 
 
 Lindy lay, mute. 
 
 "I will then Lindy ! I will I will ! / have 
 the right / say!" And Hass laid his hot lips
 
 244 LINDY LOYD 
 
 against the soft, white body then rushed out into 
 the darkness. 
 
 The force of the wind had somewhat abated and the 
 rain was beginning to fall as Hass, alert to those ter- 
 rible sounds of pursuit, started back up the mountain. 
 
 Well the rain was a good thing, he reflected. It 
 would help obliterate his tracks. It was cool, too ; 
 and he turned his hot face to the sky. 
 
 Hass had no clear recollection of the painful path 
 so recently traversed. At the best, it must have 
 been a rambling one difficult for even the keen 
 scent of the bloodhound to follow and there were 
 dim, indistinct memories of many crossings of the 
 brook ; Well he certainly must have wandered, un- 
 necessarily. And the poor outcast, stupefied with 
 fever, weary, sick unto death, staggered on through 
 the darkness not so much alarmed, now that he was 
 out in the open under God's sky. 
 
 "Lindy leetle Lindy how purty she be," he 
 muttered, his thoughts reverting to the dominant 
 passion of his life. "An she keered Lindy keered ; 
 she war moughty afeerd they-alls'd find me," hug- 
 ging the remembrance to his starved heart. "An she 
 be mine ! Lindy be mine " he cried as he strug- 
 gled on, his eyes wide and staring. How tired he was. 
 It seemed as if he could not drag himself one step 
 farther ; then this terrible weakness ; and Hass 
 contended with another attack.
 
 LINDY LOYD 245 
 
 Again the dogs gave tongue nearer now. 
 
 "Dad-burn them hounds ! Reckon they'll get me 
 yet !" he panted, recalled to the present. "Where be 
 I anyways ?" and shivering with fright, the poor 
 hunted creature clung desperately to the friendly 
 support of a tree and gazed confusedly about. 
 
 "Damn if I ben't a-goin torrards hum," he mut- 
 tered. "That that light up there hit sure be 
 Mammy's Wonder if she be a-spectin me? Well 
 
 I be dog-tired reckon I'll get on hum an 
 into baid"; and with his worn face upturned to the 
 beacon delirious, trembling with fatigue and ill- 
 ness, Hass stumbled along the familiar trail. 
 
 Again those ominous sounds nearer, and yet 
 more near. 
 
 "Blarst 'em ! gasped the poor wretch, "them dawgs 
 
 they's out after somebody I can't 'pear to 
 'member ; mebbe mebbe I'd better take to the 
 water again." And with the strength of delirium 
 Hass pursued his difficult way up the bed of the 
 brook. 
 
 "Reckon Mammy, she knowed I wuz a-kemin " 
 he mumbled, his eyes glued upon the light. "God 
 Almighty if I could get there " he panted. 
 Presently Hass left the brook and fought his way 
 on up the trail. 
 
 Meanwhile within the cabin, all was in readiness 
 for Hass's coming. 
 
 Unable to sleep, her heart with her desolate, erring
 
 246 LINDY LOYD 
 
 boy, Mrs. Hicks had flung herself, dressed, upon her 
 bed and lay listening to the fury of the storm each 
 separate blast as it struck the cabin weighted with 
 fear for his welfare. 
 
 Lying alone in the darkness, keenly alert to the 
 sounds of the night, she had heard the first bay of 
 the hounds and knew, immediately, that some poor 
 fugitive was abroad upon the mountains. 
 
 "Hit be Hass ! an he be a-kemin down !" she 
 cried, with a mother's intuition; and rising quickly 
 from her bed Mrs. Hicks made ready to receive the 
 wanderer. Placing a light in each window, she re- 
 plenished the fire, prepared food and entering the 
 inner room turned back the covering of his bed 
 upon her lips the constant petition : "God Almighty, 
 send he can die in his baid send he can die in his 
 baid " Having finished her preparations, Mrs. 
 Hicks steeled herself to listen and to wait. 
 
 Again the deep note of the hounds was carried on 
 the gale. 
 
 "He be most yere now," she whispered, peering 
 out into the night. "Ah God Almighty !" and 
 Hass fell, exhausted, across the threshold. 
 
 Quickly her arms were about him. Half dragging, 
 half lifting, Mrs. Hicks carried the emaciated form 
 into the inner room and laid him upon his bed. 
 
 "Mammy don't let " he gasped, horror in his 
 eyes. 
 
 "No I won't, Hass I won't," soothed his 
 mother, grimly, her firm clasp on his.
 
 LINDY LOYD 247 
 
 With the implicit faith of childhood days, Mass's 
 head fell back upon his pillow. "Mammy Mammy 
 I've kem " he breathed. And the stormy, tem- 
 pest-tossed soul passed out into the night. 
 
 "God Almighty, I thank Thee I thank Thee," 
 murmured Mrs. Hicks, folding the hands above the 
 pulseless breast. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Hicks passed into the outer room. 
 Closing the door upon her dead she seated herself to 
 await the arrival of the officers of the law. 
 
 She had not long to wait. Soon the eager dogs 
 were clamoring before the cabin. With a brutal kick 
 the door flew wide and two men, their guns leveled, 
 rushed inside. 
 
 "Where is he?" they demanded their eyes 
 searching the place. 
 
 But the woman crouching before the fire gave no 
 slightest recognition of their presence. 
 
 "We-alls tracked him in here you might as well 
 give him up " cried one, his hand heavy upon the 
 shoulder of the unresponsive woman. "Is he in yon?" 
 indicating the inner room. 
 
 But he might with equal success have addressed a 
 stone image. 
 
 "Watch out ! we-alls'll get potted!" they 
 muttered stealing warily towards the closed door. 
 Bursting it open, they sprang into the middle 
 of the room, their weapons pointed at its inmate. 
 "Hands up we-ve got ye covered " they 
 shouted.
 
 248 LINDY LOYD 
 
 But there came no response from the quiet figure 
 upon the bed. 
 
 "Dead?" 
 
 "Dead ! he has given we-alls the slip." And fol- 
 lowed by the burning, contemptuous gaze of the 
 woman before the hearth, the two slunk quickly 
 from the cabin.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 SPRING had come and the song of life and of 
 love was again heard. The breezes whispered 
 it, the merry brooks, released from icy confines, 
 chattered it, countless bird-throats sang it, all na- 
 ture thrilled with it. 
 
 Up from the ground rushed the sap and the trees 
 sprang immediately into life. To the farthest limit 
 swept the quickening fluid and soon the bare, 
 skeleton-like branches shook forth the tender baby- 
 leaves and the feathery blossoms. 
 
 The forest speedily became carpeted with a prodi- 
 gality of growth, countless blooms appeared and the 
 delicate odor of the trailing-arbutus arose. Soon, 
 upon every side, were massed the pink and white 
 blossoms of the sweet-briar and wild azalea, the dog- 
 wood and the Judas-tree ; the soft winds came laden 
 with perfume and every breath was a delight. 
 
 The pairing, building and home-making season, 
 too, had arrived and from many a secret place bright 
 eyes peered forth ; birds were rioting in the thickets 
 and every winged thing was astir. 
 
 Lindy, too, heard the glad spring-song with its 
 promise of joyful fulfillment and the youth within 
 
 249
 
 250 LINDY LOYD 
 
 her responded to the call. With renewed strength of 
 body she roamed the hills, revisiting old haunts, all 
 her splendid strength of purpose doing battle with 
 the sorrow that had darkened her life. 
 
 But there was one place unvisited. Lindy had not 
 been to the old camp since the occasion that wit- 
 nessed the separation between herself and Hugh 
 Humphreys ; and now that spring was calling call- 
 ing the custom of her life or was it a more 
 tender demand urged her thither. Well she 
 would go to the old camp, she meditated and the 
 girl set her lips firmly. It would be a test of her 
 courage. Perhaps, if she could see again the place 
 so especially associated with her lost happiness, her 
 persistent heart-hunger might be somewhat allayed; 
 she might, in a measure, at least, be able to put 
 away the haunting memories. So she reasoned. 
 
 It may have been the terrible circumstances sur- 
 rounding the girl's awakening from love's dream 
 circumstances so abnormal, so cruel, so entirely with- 
 out consent upon either side that made its up- 
 rooting appear so impossible a thing ; and that Lindy 
 should hold Hugh's memory in tender regard was, 
 under the circumstances, perhaps, inevitable. But 
 there came times cruel, bitter times when, in 
 spite of strenuous efforts to the contrary, the girl's 
 whole soul cried out for Hugh her lover, Hugh! 
 torn so ruthlessly from her. 
 
 That Hugh had married Miss Lucie Simmons, the
 
 LINDY LOYD 251 
 
 two immediately sailing abroad for a term of years, 
 had long since come to Lindy's knowledge; and 
 since the marriage, a number of instances pointing to 
 Miss Lucie's love for Hugh had recurred to her 
 memory. But there remained no bitterness in Lindy's 
 heart towards Miss Lucie and of Hugh's love for 
 herself she was perfectly assured. Rather had they 
 been entangled in a chain of unprecedented circum- 
 stances certainly emanating from the evil one. 
 Of Hass Hicks, as the instrument in his hands 
 and the author of the calamity that had overtaken 
 her Lindy thought with a shuddering horror, mit- 
 igated by the pitiful conditions of his death. 
 
 In any case, Hugh had passed out of her life ; and 
 it was her duty to say the least to accept the 
 situation. If she were unable to do this if she 
 were so pitiful a thing as to persist in an undying 
 affection for the husband of another then, such 
 weakness must be hidden. Besides, there were other 
 duties to be considered : the cheer and comfort of 
 those within her home ; of Daddy, for instance, 
 whose dear eyes followed her so solicitously. 
 
 So reasoned Lindy; and except for a certain 
 womanly quietness of demeanor, the girl, to general 
 appearance, was herself again her merry laugh 
 ringing out as of yore ; and if at times it carried an 
 uncertain note, none guessed at the cause. 
 
 Within her home, however, an occasional absorp- 
 tion of manner, together with an unconscious sad-
 
 252 LINDY LOYD 
 
 ness, evidenced to watchful eyes that the battle was 
 not yet entirely won; and beholding, Mitry cursed, 
 silently. 
 
 "Hit do plum' beat all, Brackie, how yer garden- 
 patch, hit be a-kemin on !" cried Joan, coming down 
 the path. "Hit must have moughty good care." 
 
 Mrs. Hicks was down on her knees, weeding. 
 " 'Pears like I have to keep myself a-goin', these yere 
 days," she replied, turning her heated face to Joan. 
 "If so be I can go to baid dog-tired at night, I be 
 more likely to sleep ; don't have to lay awake an 
 think 'bout things," she added. 
 
 "Yep I know, Brackie," was the sympathetic 
 rejoinder. 
 
 "Where you-uns been, Joan?" 
 
 "Down to Dark Holler." 
 
 "You have? what'd yuh heern tell?" 
 
 "Nuthin of any 'count ; but I see sumpin, 
 Brackie." 
 
 Mrs. Hicks sat back upon her heels, her face up- 
 lifted "Well " 
 
 "I see the last of Mandy Pegg ! the very last, 
 Brackie, She have gone 'bag and baggage.' ' 
 
 "Huh ! she have gone ! Well I ain't said ez 
 I war glad, Joan, but this yere be a quiet neighbor- 
 hood an Mandy Pegg, she wan't like our folkses, yere 
 on the mountain yuh knows that." 
 
 "Yep I know 't."
 
 LINDY LOYD 253 
 
 "Kem on in, Joan"; and Mrs. Hicks having 
 reached the end of the row, rose laborously to her 
 feet and led the way into the cabin. "Hit beat all 
 how stiff a body do get," she muttered. "An yuh 
 didn't see anybody nor heern tell nuthin 't all, 
 Joan?" she went on, querulously. 
 
 "Nope " 
 
 "Well if yuh ben't the greatest " 
 
 " 'Spose I can't get no news if there ben't none," 
 flared Joan ; and silence fell. 
 
 "I war over to Si Etter's this mornin," Mrs. Hicks 
 began, presently. "Si, he's a moughty sick man, 
 Joan." 
 
 "Mitry, he's a-goin over there again to-night," 
 Joan replied. 
 
 "The neighbors, they's sure moughty good 'bout 
 a-helpin, but Si Etter well he's a-needin some- 
 body there all the time, now ; some wumman es 
 could stay Joan" ; with a quick glance at her 
 companion. 
 
 But Joan made no response. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Hicks began again: "Pears like 
 Hite Cronce, he air a-goin to drive for the hotel, this 
 summer in the place of that doctor feller; the 
 one ez uster kem up the mountain to see Lindy." 
 
 "Is he?" nonchalantly. 
 
 "An I spose Lindy, she'll be a-carryin berries an 
 sich down to the hotel just like she did last sum- 
 mer, Joan?"
 
 254 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Mebbe." 
 
 "Things be moughty different, this summer," per- 
 sisted Mrs. Hicks. "Lindy, she'll miss that cripple- 
 wumman for one, Joan. Queer wan't 't her 
 gettin jined to the doctor feller?" and Mrs. Hicks 
 eyed Joan, sharply. 
 
 But Joan remained perfectly non-committal. 
 
 "Pears like the cripple-wumman, she have died in 
 f urrin parts yere, last winter ; an 'er husband, he 
 be a-bringin her body hum to bury 't ; some- 
 wheres in Alabamy. Hit war Hite ez war a-tellin 't. 
 Pore Hass he war dretful fond of Lindy," Mrs. 
 Hicks added, irrelevantly. 
 
 Time went on the fever raged and Si's life ap- 
 peared to be drawing to a close. He did not lack 
 for care and attention either by night or by day; 
 sympathy, help and experimental knowledge in deal- 
 ing with sickness being freely extended by the kindly 
 mountaineers. But there came a time, when, the 
 fever broken, Si lay exhausted and perfectly apa- 
 thetic upon his bed ; and those most interested 
 their well-meant attempts to awaken his renewed in- 
 terest in life continuing unsuccessful were at their 
 wit's end. 
 
 "Hit be just this a-ways," declared Rufus Kane 
 to Mrs. Hicks and Mitry standing outside Si's 
 cabin in the early morning "That feller in there, 
 he don't give a hang whether he lives or dies ; an
 
 LINDY LOYD 255 
 
 that bein the case well hit looks plum' bad for 
 'im." 
 
 "Yep hit looks that a-ways," Mitry agreed. 
 
 "Now, if Si he had sumpin or somebody 
 to spunk up for some wumman, now, ez keered a 
 leetle," Rufe went on, "but shucks ! what have the 
 pore feller got anyways a-livin yere all alone? 
 
 nuthin 't all for comfort ez I can see." 
 
 "Yep if there only war somebody ez keered a 
 leetle," Mrs. Hicks reiterated, "Si, he just lays there 
 
 don't say nuthin 't all, but every time that door 
 of his opens, his eyes, they open too an they travel 
 right there yep right there! for all the world 
 ez if he war a-watchin for somebody to kem like. 
 An onct he axed me who 't war out there in the 
 kitchen." 
 
 "He did ax that?" Rufe exclaimed. 
 
 "He did an Lissy Aller, she have spoke 'bout 
 Si's a-watchin the door so. She axed me did Si 
 have any folkses he war a-spectin." 
 
 "Huh!" 
 
 "Mebbe mebbe now there mought be such a 
 wumman somewhere 'round orter to be, any- 
 ways," Mrs. Hicks went on with a glance at Mitry, 
 "an mebbe Si, he's a-wishin an a-listenin for that 
 wumman to kem ; hit mought be hit mought be." 
 
 "Do you-uns know of any such a wumman?" Mitry 
 demanded, suddenly. 
 
 "I ain't said ez I do, Mitry," Mrs. Hicks evaded.
 
 256 LINDY LOYD 
 
 "Well wumman or no wumman, if Si, he don't 
 spunk up purty soon, now, he'll just nacherly die ! 
 an that's all there be to *t," declared Rufe. "Be yuh 
 a-kemin over yere to set up to-night, Mitry?" Re- 
 ceiving Mitry's affirmative, Rufe went on his way. 
 
 "Better get Si's basket ready, Joan," advised 
 Mitry at the end of the day ; and knocking the ashes 
 from his pipe he prepared to take the trail. 
 
 "Hit's queer, Si, he don't get along faster, Mitry 
 now that the fever, hit be broke," Joan remarked 
 as she lifted the savory broth from the fire and placed 
 it within the basket. Brackie, she says he just lays 
 there so still-like don't 'pear to keer none 'bout 
 nuthin nor nobody." 
 
 "Joan," Mitry demanded, turning sharply towards 
 her, "have yuh been in to see Si?" 
 
 "Eh what me? well not in to see 'im 
 'zactly, Mitry," Joan replied, her startled eyes 
 upon his, "but I've been over there every day 
 a-takin 'im things an an I see 'im through the 
 door onct. Reckon Si, he haven't axed for me," 
 she concluded. 
 
 "I think you-uns had better not wait for Si to ax 
 for yuh. I think yuh had better go in Joan," 
 Mitry urged, significantly. 
 
 "Why Mitry?" and Joan's face was desperate. 
 
 " 'Kez I think Si Etter, he be a-goin to die, Joan. 
 He certainly will unless he can make up his mind 
 to live that's sure ! an I don't know ez that
 
 LINDY LOYD 257 
 
 could save 'im, now. Joan" and Mitry's eyes 
 arraigned hers "Si, he be a-dyin just kez he ain't 
 a-keerin none to live. That be hit. Just kez he ain't 
 a-keerin none to live," he reiterated, impressively. 
 
 Joan went white. "Why ben't Si Etter a-keerin 
 none to live, Mitry?" 
 
 "That's 'zactly what I don't know. Do you-uns 
 know Joan?" Mitry demanded, his eyes fixed upon 
 hers. 
 
 "Oh I don't know, Mitry" and Joan's 
 face was ashen. "Dear God ! hit war so long 
 ago-" 
 
 "You-uns never have told me what 't war ez got 
 up 'twixt yuh an Si an I never have axed," Mitry 
 went on. "But if so be you-uns could fix 't up why 
 
 yuh'd better do 't, Joan, yuTi'd better do '," he 
 reiterated, gravely. "Si Etter, he be a turrible sick 
 feller; hit mought make 't a leetle easier for you- 
 uns afterwards mebbe." And taking his bas- 
 ket, Mitry departed. 
 
 "So that be hit," muttered Joan, standing wide- 
 eyed and white-lipped in the kitchen. "Si he be 
 a-dyin just kez he ain't a-keerin none to live " 
 
 Slowly, mechanically, Joan proceeded with her 
 work. Presently, having finished her preparations 
 for the night, she crept into bed. 
 
 " 'Kez he ain't a-keerin none to live ! ain't a-keerin 
 
 ain't a-keerin " the night rang with the pitiful 
 refrain. Lying alone in the darkness, Joan com-
 
 258 LINDY LOYD 
 
 muned with her own heart, and pride, that root sin 
 of human nature, became clearly revealed; stripped 
 of all subterfuge it stood forth in its nakedness, its 
 hideous deformity. Ah yes ! it had been pride 
 a foolish unwillingness to acknowledge having been 
 in the wrong that was responsible for the ruin of 
 their two lives ; and face to face with the probable 
 outcome of Si's illness, the miserable details of their 
 alienation shrank into mere nothingness. 
 
 Joan had always felt assured of Si's heart-loyalty 
 to herself. During all the troublous, wrecked years 
 of the past, he had been crying out for her for 
 her; she knew it knew it perfectly. And now, 
 sick unto death, he still longed for her needed her. 
 " 'Kez he ain't a-keerin none to live ain't a-keerin 
 ain't a-keerin " again that endless refrain. 
 
 Mitry had said that Si would die. Dear God ! 
 perhaps he might already be gone. Oh how 
 heartless how cruel she had been ! she would go 
 to him; if not too late, she would beg him to stay. 
 
 Panic-stricken, Joan hurried out into the night 
 and soon, remorse lending wings to her feet, lifted the 
 latch of Si's cabin. 
 
 "Mitry be Si be he he ben't " she 
 panted, apprehension in her eyes. 
 
 "Go on in Joan," Mitry replied ; and entering 
 the inner room Joan stood by the quiet form. 
 
 Ah was he still alive? so still he lay so 
 white and Joan, deadly fear clutching at her 
 heart, bent nearer.
 
 LINDY LOYD 259 
 
 As if conscious of her presence, Si's eyes suddenly 
 flew wide. 
 
 "Joan Joan yuh have kem " he breathed. 
 
 "Yep I have kem ; an I be a-goin to stay 
 Si," Joan added, her hand in his. 
 
 Into the worn face came a look of utter peace 
 and the long estrangement was over.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 JUNE came again. June with its soft winds 
 and blue sky. June with its associations and 
 memories. 
 
 Lindy came out upon the porch and stood for a 
 moment, her eyes following the familiar trail down 
 the mountain. "I said I would come and I am 
 going," she murmured. 
 
 It was the anniversary of her betrothal to Hugh 
 Humphreys and Lindy was going to the old camp 
 
 a spot as yet unvisited. Yes, she meditatel 
 foolish, sentimental, perhaps even wicked still 
 she was going. 
 
 And Lindy had known all along that she would 
 go when the time came. All the reasoning she 
 could bring to the contrary and the girl had been 
 perfectly sincere in her strivings all the scorn, the 
 lashings of conscience all had proved to be en- 
 tirely futile. She was going to keep the anni- 
 versary. 
 
 Those terrible restrictions that Hass had imposed, 
 
 restrictions she had been unable to mitigate by 
 even so much as one word of explanation her 
 seemingly harsh treatment of Hugh, her ignoring of 
 his claims upon her, all, had been a source of lasting 
 
 260
 
 LINDY LOYD 261 
 
 regret to Lindy. If she should see Hugh, she could 
 explain now ; oh, yes ! and she could recover her 
 self-respect in the matter, which, in a measure, 
 she felt to have been forfeited. If Hugh should be 
 there 
 
 But how could Hugh be there? He could not. 
 Hugh was abroad had gone to remain for a term 
 of years. Besides, he ought not to be there. Again 
 the same line of reasoning of fruitless upbraiding. 
 Oh was ever love so wickedly persistent? 
 
 Well it was no doubt altogether foolish, but in 
 spite of all reason the determination to keep the ap- 
 pointment had only strengthened and she was go- 
 ing. Going at the hour agreed upon and she 
 would give the whippoorwill's call. 
 
 The old camp thrilled with life this wonderful June 
 day ; it thrilled, too, with memories of Lindy 
 of Lindy! and the man beside the brook surrendered 
 himself to the thronging memories. 
 
 Hugh had made no secret of his wrecked hopes, 
 of his hurt, in offering Miss Lucie Simmons his care 
 and devotion. Convinced of his sincerity she ac- 
 cepted his frank statement of the situation and they 
 were married. 
 
 "Hugh," she cried, "a greater woman than I 
 would refuse your proffered devotion. But but 
 I cannot, Hugh, I cannot. It will be but for a short 
 time now I have had renewed assurance of that.
 
 262 LINDY LOYD 
 
 And and I am so terribly lonesome, Hugh ! Dear 
 God ! you can never know how lonely " and 
 Miss Lucie's eyes said the rest. As Hugh dwelt 
 upon the past there were only tender memories of 
 the sweet woman whose love had entered his life. 
 
 As Hugh waited beside the brook there suddenly 
 boomed forth the big bass "brr-oom brr-oom " 
 of a great frog, answered immediately by a tiny pipe 
 near by ; and instantly a chorus of voices, great and 
 small, arose and as suddenly died away. 
 
 A snake slipped stealthily into the water and 
 headed up stream, his destination an opening under 
 a big, overhanging stump. 
 
 From a hole in the opposite bank a musk-rat 
 thrust forth his head sniffing the air, his small eyes 
 roving, warily. Catching sight of Hugh, he vanished. 
 
 Beneath the stones the "googlies" lay, hidden. 
 Within the cool depth and shadow of a great rock 
 swarms of fish were playing ; and with a flash of 
 white a kingfisher swooped with unerring aim, then 
 back to the limb above his helpless prey dangling 
 from his beak. 
 
 Farther down the brook, motionless as the stone 
 upon which he stood, a stately heron was fishing. 
 Soon he, too, flew away with a luckless victim. 
 
 Blind to the exceeding beauty of the place and 
 hour, deaf to the appeal of the woods-life, intent 
 only upon the sad travesty before her, the girl upon 
 the trail came swiftly on.
 
 LINDY LOYD 263 
 
 Straight to the old pine went Lindy. Flinging 
 her arms about its sturdy trunk she leaned her soft 
 cheek against it and remained motionless. 
 
 Presently she loosened her clasp and stood her 
 unseeing eyes fixed upon the distance and the 
 mournful call floated unfalteringly forth: "Whip- 
 poor-will whip-poor-will whip-poor-will " 
 
 "Whip-poor-will whip-poor-will whip-poor- 
 will" came the joyous response and Lindy was 
 clasped in Hugh's arms. 
 
 THE END
 
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